A Woman, A Man, Her Lover, and His Lover # A Short Story

This is English version of "Melati", an Indonesian short story by @musismail. I translated this story with his permission. Please enjoy the story.

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Melati



The man then married another woman he loved. She was married to another man she loved. But that did not make their both loves less.

The man asked his wife, "If I ever love another woman, what will you do? Will you hate me?" He asked in a mild tone, a flat voice, like water flowing to the shore.

The woman, Mawar, who had just been married a year, did not look surprised. For a moment, she seemed to be thinking. Her eyes stared intently at her husband.

"Before I answer," said Mawar, "I also want to ask you, what would you do if I fell in love with another man? Would you hate me?"

The man pondered for a moment. He could not understand why his wife has the same question. He looked closely at his wife and got a very deep love shining from the eyes of the woman she loved.

Love was still the same, maybe more, as he met a few years ago since they declared an agreement: love to death, love will not be shared. Ah, why did they have the same question now?

The man and the woman looked at each other. They were stunned. They were like regretting each other's questions. The cursed question? Why should there be such a question?

No sound. Silence crept. Then she smiled. The man smiled. The woman's hand then moved, pulling him down. Both of them fell. Their eyes still looked at each other.

The silence continued to creep. Outside, the moon shone indifferently. Night crept very slowly. Drizzle just finished.

The man asked a woman who he had - and still - loved. "Do you hate me after I get married? What kind of man do you imagine of me?" Her voice was loose, unburdened, like the needle of a watch in her hand that fluently accompanying the sun moved. The day became night.

The woman, Melati, showed no surprised at the question. He remained calm, looking out, piercing through the window of a cafe on a tall floor of the tall building. What surprised her was the sight before his eyes: Suddenly the sky was full of flashes of light, like a long sword splitting the sky.

The sky became dark. The rain suddenly flushed, when Melati was soon to meet someone she loved very much, the father of the child she now conceived. If it had rained, it had to be that the traffic in this city would be jammed. Certainly, she would be difficult to reach home for dinner.

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Dinner together, a commitment they tried to do as much as possible all the time.

What answer should she say if her husband asked? Lost? Doh, how that's a very tedious and unreasonable excuse. He certainly knew she did not go home directly. If she go home directly, she would not face traffic jam. Her office was at the end of the road which became the point to all the congestion.

Melati stood for a moment. Then, she asked the man in front of her. "I also want to ask you. What will you do if the person you loved made love with other person she loved. Will you hate her?"

He tried not to remember anything. He was trying to forget the image of woman he loved who might love someone else. He looked outward, following the direction of the woman's gaze, which seemed to pierce the heavy rain, through the flashes of glittering light swords.

No sound. Silence crept. Only the nostalgic songs that the cafe music operator played slid very slowly around them. The songs brought them to last year moments: lively lunches, tomato juices, and exciting future plans.

Soon Melati's voice came on one afternoon, in a corner facing the outdoors of a tall floor of the tall building--yes, it was here--and the woman asked slowly: "If we were to marry, would you continue to take care of me in your heart? "

The man remembered his answer at the time--which was a question, too: "If we were to marry, would you just have lunch with me? Do you just keep love for me?"

Just as the question was resolved, a sudden explosion was heard, the building looked like staggering, the nostalgic songs drowned out by people's screams. They hugged each other.

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He embraced Melati tightly, his eyes searched for the source of explosion which he heard not far from there. But in the cafe there was no broken or falling glass, just panic people. Soon the sound of siren screamed.

The loudspeakers that usually played nostalgic songs now send a strange and alert voice: "Gentlemen, please do not panic. The situation is under control." But the people kept their heads down. Some were on their stomachs. Some were squatting as their hands closed tightly in both ears. Their faces hold a deep fear.

Several security guards then came and guided people to leave the cafe, down the emergency stairs. They were breathless and had anxious eyes, overshadowed by deep fear.

That man, the woman - maybe other people - keep asking: who were savage people blowing his humanity here?

The survivors saw the crazy scene: bloods everywhere, parts of the building were ravaged, cars burned, and many people laid dying. The sirens kept screaming, people were hysterical. They kept trying to save themselves with fearful eyes.

He and Melati could no longer speak. Words were not enough to describe this situation. They kept quiet until they got taxi and left.

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It was a bad dream. The man and the woman canceled their wedding plan. They read the incident as a bad sign for their future.

The knew it was not true. But they believed irrationality often shape the world around them.
The man was marrying someone else. Melati was marrying another man. They still secretly kept their loves. But it did not make their love less. Instead, they felt their love became more.

The sun set. The rain slowly stopped. Suddenly they seemed to be awake from a bad dream. The man looked at Melati. The woman stared back. They looked at each other.

"You have not answered my question," the man said.

"You have not answered my question," she said.

"Does it need to be answered?" The man asked.

The woman interrupted. "Yes, do I need to answer?"

"I still love you," the man said.

"My love for you has never diminished," the woman replied.

They paused for a moment. The rain completely stopped. The man tapped his forehead.

"Ouch, I forgot I was promised to take my wife to go shopping," he said. Then he quickly pulled out his cell phone from his pocket,and called.

"Ma, the meeting is not finished yet, it's jammed, I know, it's raining and it's better to take a taxi to the supermarket," he said. At first glance, the man smiled. The woman did not respond.

A moment later, Melati's phone also rang. "Hello Pa, I'm still in a meeting with the client, need one or two hours more. Oh, Pa, if you're hungry, you can have dinner. The traffic are jammed."

The man and the woman looked at each other.

"Is there still something I should answer?" The woman asked.

The man did not answer. No one spoke. Silence crept. Nostalgic songs again brought up their past memories. Outside, the sky became dark.

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Mawar asked her husband, "If I did love another man, what would you do? Will you hate me?" She asked in a mild tone and flat voice like water flowing to the shore.

The man she loved so much did not show any surprise. For a moment, he seemed to think. His eyes looked intently at his wife.

"Before I answer," he said, "I also want to ask you. What would you do if I also fell in love with another woman? Will you hate me?"

The woman did not answer. She just looked at the man laying beside her. Her heart thundered in her chest. Why did her husband have the same questions? Did he keep love somewhere else?

Suddenly Mawar regretted the question. Not everything should be disclosed. Not everything should be asked. Sometimes the question actually unravels something quiet into fear.

Ah, why should everyone spread love elsewhere.

Mawar bit her lip, looked at the ceiling and imagined a man she loved making love with other woman.

A hand suddenly touched her face. The man was still staring at the woman beside him. The woman then responded with a small smile. They looked at each other. No sound. Silence crept.

Outside, the drizzle was just over. The night moved slowly, spreading the cold air.

Pamulang, December 16, 2003

All images source: Pixabay


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