Author's Note: This is my first time writing a Historical fiction and also in third person so constructive criticism is appreciated. =) Please let me know what you thought , what could be improved on. I am here to grow as a writer. Thank you in advance!

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Pulau Ujong, Singapura (Singapore) -- Kampung Rambutan

December 1940

Chapter One: News

Just like any other ordinary morning, it was a quiet, cooling day. Fifteen-year-old Nadiah stopped short in her trail, looking up at the radiant sky above, marvelling at God's creation. Streaks of red and yellow hues dominated across the horizon, a gentle breeze swayed the wheats from side to side. She inhaled the morning air; taking in the scent of fresh cut grass, relaxing her shoulders as she did so. She stayed for another moment before striding off. When she came to a small clearing, she heard the sound of the waterfall pounding on the rocks and the chirping of the morning birds. She moved closer, lugging her basket of clothing with her until she came to the mouth of the river. The ruins of what was once a hut stood on one side of the winding river. Various vines wounded itself around its walls and plants grew through the floorboards.

Slipping inside, Nadiah peered around, making sure there was no one present before stripping down and pulling on a batik cloth, tying a knot tightly above her bosom. Then she moved to the river bank, testing its waters with a toe before retracting it. It was shivering cold! She moved down, stepping on the slippery rocks cautiously so as not to lose her footing before lowering herself into the waters. Soon, she was lathering her hair with shampoo and scrubbing herself. Though it was freezing out, she loved it here. She would slip out every morning after dawn to wash herself and to wash the garments of her family afterwards.

Her mother did not know she bathe here. No, she could never know. In fact, no one in the village knew. Though she had a bathhouse and toilet outside her kampung (village/hut) house, she disliked taking a bath in it. The bath house and toilet weren't just used by her family but by her neighbours too. Once she was done, she rinsed herself from all the soap and went to put on her Baju Kurung(A traditional Malay dress) in the abandoned hut.

She returned to the river bank, squatted down and began her washing. It was a difficult task she had undertook every single day and it would take her close to two hours. She began to hum a tune to herself as she scrubbed the dirt and grime off.

***

Zainab wiped the sweat from her forehead, trying her best to chop the onions while withstanding the burning of her eyes. It was only seven in the morning and she could hear the chickens clucking outside. She had only chopped ten onions so far and she still had a sack more to go. She sighed, wondering why must onions be used in cooking. Her cousin, Ainum, was getting married tomorrow and her family had been busy helping to prepare for her wedding.

Ainum was only older than her by a year, being only sixteen. Just like other girls in their village, it was customary for girls to wed as early as the age of thirteen - given that the girl was of age. (surpassed puberty) Girls who were not married by the age of twenty were considered old maids and were looked down upon. She wondered when her turn would be. No man has yet came around to ask for her hand.

The kettle hooted at her, the water overflowing and spilling to the open fire. Jolting out of her thoughts and dropping the knife on the chopping board; she went to put out the fire. Gathering bundles of cloth, she used them to lift the kettle from the stove and poured the boiling water into a pot filled with dry red chilli, steam gushing at her and clouding her vision.

Seeing the chilli simmer in the water, she set the kettle down once again and was about to return to her stool when there were rapid knocks on her front door.

"Timaaaaaah!" A woman's breathless cry sounded followed by more raps on the door. Zainab climbed the wooden steps leading up to her living room, wondering who it could be at this hour. It was too early for people to come around to visit. She saw her mother, Fatimah, rushing out of her bedroom and threw the door open revealing their middle-aged, pesky neighbour, Eton.

"Huh, Eton, what brings you here this morning?"

"Have you heard the news?"

"Nope, the only news I know of is you coming at this hour," Fatimah chuckled. "What's the news?"

Zainab stood idly at the doorway, listening to her mother speak to their neighbour. Being a close-knitted community, news travelled fast in the small village. People would scurry to their neighbour's house just to relay the news and their neighbours would in turn pass the message on. She was used to their neighbour coming around their house to let out some new gossip about so-and-so. She was the village's gossipy makcik (Auntie) who was known to voluntarily busy herself with the welfare of the villagers. Her favourite subjects included young, unwed girls - who hadn't married yet and why, who had the richest husbands or who had just given birth and so on. She knew sooner or later, she and her peers would be her targets. Yup, that was their beloved makcik.

Zainab was about to leave, about to dismiss the news as worthless gossip when she heard Eton's exclamation. Her mouth hung open as she digested this news. This wasn't just ordinary news, she thought. She had to find Nadiah.

***

Nadiah swiped off her damp baby hair which moped before her eyes before continuing to tend to her washing. It was getting brighter and she could feel the heat starting to set in as the sun's rays penetrated the tree branches, breathing down on her. She was about to reach for another cloth from her basket when a shout halted her calloused hands. She jerked her head to find the source of the call. In the distance, she saw her best friend, Zainab, staggering with her skirts, nearly tripping as she ran. Her scarf no longer draped around her head, rather was looped around her shoulders.

"Nadiah!" Zainab gasped as she raced to where Nadiah was squatted at. "Nadiah...Maa...Maa'rof.."

Nadiah dipped her hands in the bucket, rinsing her hand of soap before rising to her feet, her face crossed with confusion. What could be so important that had Zainab running to tell her the news? It hadn't quite register in her who Maa'rof was.

She queried as she dabbed her wet hands with a wash cloth. "What's wrong, Zainab?"

"Maa'rof! Maa'rof is coming back!" Zainab panted, her hands were planted on her knees as she tried to catch a breath. Nadiah gave Zainab a blank stare. When Zainab noticed that Nadiah didn't latched on to this piece of information, she explained, "Abang Maa'rof. The one who you were close to last time, he's coming back."

Still confused, Nadiah was about to respond when the chords struck. Maa'rof. Could it be the Maa'rof?

"Are you saying...Maa'rof, the son of the villager's chief? Maa'rof Ali?"

"Yes."

Nadiah's mouth went dry at Zainab's affirmation. Surely Zainab could be mistaken? She hadn't heard of the name in the last two years. He was the one whom she used to spin tops and fly kites with as a child. He was the one who had taught her English. He was the one who had promised to write to her. And he was the one who had left...three years ago with no news of. Until now. Her Maa'rof. He was back.

She could no longer hear the rush of the waterfalls but his voice now echoed in her head.

"Abang, when are you leaving?" Nadiah asked as she plopped down next to him on the stone bench. They were surrounded by the rubber plantations owned by Maa'rof's father, Haji Ali or rather affectionately known as "Tok Haji Ali" among the villagers. She had sought him out that morning, intending to pass him the English homework she had done last night. Maa'rof took a chug of water before answering. He was drenched in sweat from working at the rubber plantations since early that morning.

He said, "In a week's time."

"Will you come back?"

"Of course," Maa'rof gave her a reassuring smile. "I will write to you."

They both sat in silence, both contemplating in their own thoughts as Nadiah played nervously with a branch. She had known two months prior that he was leaving. She was the first person he told the news to. She had forgotten about it until he'd brought up the subject a few days ago.

"How-" Without her realising it, she uttered. Maa'rof threw a glance at her, waiting for her to continue. "How long will you be gone for?"

"Two years. Or probably more."

Her heart sank upon hearing this. He couldn't go away for so long! She needed him. Who else would teach her English if not for him? She wanted to tell him not to leave. But she did not...

"Nadiah...are you okay?" Zainab's voice interrupted her reverie.

"Yes, I am," Nadiah quickly recovered, forcing a smile on her face in an attempt to hide her true feelings. But really, she couldn't believe what she was hearing. She was surprised at the sudden rapid pumping of her heart at the mention of his name. She wasn't sure what she was feeling or was supposed to feel at that moment. She felt a mixture of happiness yet a tinge of disappointment. Disappointment due to the fact that he hadn't kept his promise to keep in touch.

"How did you....how did you know?"

Zainab explained, "Makcik Eton came over to my house. His family received a telegram a few days ago."

"Oh."

"You excited to meet him?"

"I...don't know." Nadiah answered honestly, hating how it sounded. But Zainab took no notice of it.

"I wonder how he looks like. He must be even more handsome after all this years," Zainab rambled on. "Whoever becomes his wife must be a lucky girl."

Wife? Nadiah thought, a sudden, uneasy feeling bubbling in her stomach. Of course he would get married! He wasn't going to remain a bachelor forever.

"Uh-huh..." Nadiah swallowed. "But he's still not married, right?"

"Yeah. But it won't be long till he gets married."

"How would you know?"

Zainab shrugged. "Everyone gets married early. Like us, for example. Our turns are due."

"Well maybe for you," Nadiah answered. "But not me."

Zainab's eyes popped in surprise. "What? Don't tell me you're not going to get married! Do you want to be an old maid?"

"No...." Nadiah said. "I'm just not ready. I want to marry the one I love and who loves me too."

"You know that's not how love works in Islam. Love comes after marriage."

Nadiah sighed. "But I just can't see how you can get married to someone you don't know and fall in love with him. It's just...impossible."

"But isn't that how our parents and your sisters got married?"

"I know," Nadiah admitted unwillingly. "Even up till now I still don't understand how my sisters could agree to marry a stranger."

"So....I take it you'll be a 'Anak dara tua' (An old maiden)? " Zainab teased, a mischevious twinkle in her eyes.

Nadiah screamed, lunging for Zainab."Whaaaaaaaaat?!"

Zainab started to run, laughing hysterically at her long-time best friend. Nadiah was such a joy to tease.

"Zainaaaaaab! Don't run away!" Nadiah shouted as she chased after Zainab. "I'm going to kill you!"

Zainab stuck her tongue back out at Nadiah as they circled a giant tree. "Jangan cepat marah, kalau tak nanti cepat tua! (Don't get mad so fast or you'll age faster)"

"Ish!!! Zainab! Come here! You're so dead!"

***

By night fall, it was evident that everyone in the village was well informed. Every where she went, there would always be someone nearby speaking about it. She had overheard Makciks (Aunties) talking about it in the wet market as they huddled together in groups while buying groceries. She had overheard people sitting in the little Coffee shops discussing about it and even managed to pick up a rumour or two about Maa'rof. All the talk seemed to be following her and if it wasn't bad enough, she could almost hear the name ringing in her ears even when she returned to her home.

Feeling fatigue from the tedious day, she went straight to the back door. Scooping water from the pot placed next to the entrance, she washed her legs and dried them on the mat before entering.

She called out to no one in particular. "Assalamualaikum..." (May peace be upon you!)

"Walaikumsalam! (May peace be upon you too!) Nadiah! Is that you?" Her mother's voice answered and a moment later the curtain of the kitchen doorway parted, revealing her mother.

Nadiah proceeded to kiss her mother's hand. Her mother said, "I've already cooked the dishes. Go cook some rice."

Nadiah nodded and taking a steel pot, she filled it with a few cups of rice grains. Washing the rice three times, she set it on the stove and alighted a fire.

An hour later, after the family had prayed Maghrib, they sat at the kitchen table for dinner. Only three persons were dining ever since her sisters had gotten married. Her eldest sister, Normah, got married when Nadiah was seven years old whereas her second eldest sister, Nadra, got married two years later after.

Her father, Hassan, sat in the centre of the table with her mother, Aminah, at his side and Nadiah sat opposite them. Her parents were engaged in adult talk that held no interest to Nadiah who was already mulling over Maa'rof. Her memory of how he looked like was already fuzzy though it had only been three years. She wondered if his appearance had changed like what Zainab mentioned.

She nibbled on the boiled tapioca she had in her hand as she thought this, her mind not focused on the food. Her ears perked when she heard her father mentioning his name and stopped chewing and looked up.

Hassan commented, "Maa'rof must have grown after all these years. He was such a good boy, always helping the villagers around."

"Haji Ali must be so proud of his only son." Aminah nodded her head in agreement. What came out of Aminah's mouth next got Nadiah stumped." You used to play kites and tops with him, right?"

Nadiah felt blood rush to her cheeks as both her parents looked at her, their gaze piercing her soul. She nodded quietly. Hassan brought about a change of subject to Nadiah's relief. Talking about Maa'rof with her parents was awkward. As she finished her food, she wondered when she would see him and what he would say to her.

***