Mother, I don’t wanna be ungrateful but...
It was the 1950s. Emran was the only male child of seven, in Syed al-Yamani’s family. The youngest of the family, the apple of the eye, was very lavished by her mother, Syarifah Khatija. Syarifah Khatija was a strict old lady, especially after being the sole breadwinner when the patriarch passed away. Although strict, Syarifah gave his son everything—the best education, the best clothes and taught the best of manners and he grew to be a very fine young man. At twenty-one, now working a good job and saving a lot of money, It is time now for Emran to marry. Emran was ready too, he was mature and popular among the girls so Syarifah half-expected that he’d have a good candidate. “ Ummi, I have known this friend, a female friend. ” Emran said one day. “ Good? What’s her name? ” “ Aisyah. ” “ Aisyah? Aisyah what? ” “ Aisyah binti Burhan, ummi. ” “ Hm. Just friends, I hope. No fancy stuff. “ His mother was silent after that. Maybe his mother didn’t know this girl, that’s why she looks ...