01. Disheveled Woman

The sun shone brightly in the sky, and the sound of cicadas clinging to the trees was very loud. A middle-aged man ran hurriedly towards the stilt house where a man dressed well was sitting on the porch with an open laptop in front of him. Hearing the hurried footsteps, the man's attention was diverted.

“What is it?” the man asked, his voice sounding heavy and firm.

“Sir ...!” the middle-aged man stopped at the bottom of the porch stairs, breathing heavily. “Mr. Sakha, someone has fainted in the field!” he exclaimed with difficulty.

Contrary to the man's panic, Sakha's expression did not change. He carefully folded his laptop and then stood up and approached the workers.

“Where is she?” he asked.

The man quickly showed the way to the field he was referring to.

Sakha followed behind him. When they arrived at the field, the heat from the sun felt even more intense. In the middle of the cornfield, several people, also farm workers working in his field, were gathered around something.

“Hey, move aside! Mr. Sakha is here!” shouted the man who had reported earlier.

All eyes then turned to Sakha, who walked closer, some looking surprised.

“Pak Ji! Why did you call Mr. Sakha? You're just making trouble! Do you know how hot it is at this time of day?” scolded Inah, lightly hitting Parji's shoulder. The man was still gasping for breath, busy catching it.

“It's just pity for Ririn. Instead of leaving her here in the scorching heat, which could worsen her condition, it's better to call Mr. Sakha. Besides, it's part of his responsibility to ensure the health and safety of his workers,” Parji replied with whisper to Inah.

Right after that, Sakha arrived near them and immediately looked down at a woman lying on a shabby mat. The sunlight shone on her; her face was pale and sweaty, her forehead furrowed as if she was in pain.

“What should we do, Sir? Her house is quite far from here, and we don't know how to take her home,” said Parji.

Without thinking, Sakha answered, “I'll take her.”

That was the answer they had been waiting for.

Sakha squatted down and stared at the woman's face for a moment. She looked very disheveled. Her clothes, which must have been white before, were now brown and slightly torn at the edges. From the folds of it, he guessed she was wearing several layers. Her face was also dirty from dust and pale.

He suspected the reason she had fainted was dehydration. Without waiting any longer, he lifted the woman's body into his arms; he was slightly surprised by how light she was, not expecting it because her body looked plump.

“I will take her to the house. Continue with your work,” Sakha said.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

Sakha nodded and then turned and walked away.

Working in the midday heat like this was always tough, but Sakha had arranged all the schedules, and he didn't want the sun's heat to be an obstacle. He even paid extra to his workers who worked during the day.

When he reached the resting house hidden in the garden with shady trees, Sakha realized that the woman's body in his arms felt very hot, even though the sunlight was no longer directly hitting them because of the tree leaves.

Sakha entered the house and laid the woman on the bed in one of the rooms there. The room was never used, except for the room next to it, which Sakha usually used for afternoon naps while overseeing the workers in the field.

Actually, Sakha didn't know what to do, so he took his phone to call someone.

“Galih, after buying the seeds, come straight to the resting house. Bring the car,” Sakha said. After getting the desired answer, he hung up the phone and then looked at the woman. He touched her forehead to check her temperature; it felt hot. Sweat was also continuously flowing from her temples.

Sakha thought about what he should do, then his attention was drawn to the woman's disheveled clothes. He touched them lightly, a bit disgusted by the dirt, but he tried to ignore it and then opened the woman's shirt. And as he suspected, she was wearing multiple layers of clothing, which Sakha had to remove until only a clean white T-shirt soaked with sweat was left.

No wonder her body was light; she was very thin. The multiple layers of clothing indeed made her body look plumper.

Sakha then took a small towel, wetted it with water from the well, and wiped the sweat from the woman's face.

Her long eyelashes fluttered, her eyelids then opened, revealing dark black eyes that directly looked at Sakha's eyes. Sakha was startled for a moment, his hand that was moving stopped.

“You fainted, I'm trying to help you,” he said, but it seemed the woman didn't hear him. When he was about to speak again, the woman's eyes closed.

Sakha was silent, staring at her, then put down the towel in his hand and picked up his phone again. He called Galih, urging him to hurry.

Not long after, Galih arrived, and he was shocked to see his boss in the room with a disheveled and dirty woman on his bed.

“Take this girl home,” Sakha said.

Galih stood frozen at the doorway, his mouth open.

Sakha gave him a sharp look. “Did you hear me, Galih? Take her away!”

“What has ...?”

“She fainted in the cornfield, so I had to carry her here.”

With that brief explanation, Galih approached and looked at the woman's face.

“Do you know her?” Sakha asked.

Galih nodded. “She's Jamal's daughter, the Head of the Neighbourhood,” Galih replied.

“Since when has that man's daughter been working in my field?” Sakha asked in surprise.

“Oh no. This is not Mawar or Melati; her name, if I'm not mistaken, is Ririn.”

No wonder Sakha had never seen this disheveled woman the last time he visited Fahrul Jamal's house. Because as far as Sakha knew, Jamal only had two beautiful daughters who are often referred to as the village flowers. Who would have guessed that the disheveled girl in front of him now was also the man's daughter?

“Oh yes. Did you deliver my message to him?” Sakha asked.

“Yes, Sir, last night. He seemed a bit shocked but also had no other choice.”

“Good.”

“Uh, Sir.”

“What?”

Galih looked hesitant. “Have you talked about getting married again with the mistresses at home?”

Because of Galih's question, Sakha stared at him squinting. “Who called you?”

“Madam Henia, Sir,” Galih replied.

“Since when did you have such a loose mouth, Galih?”

“N-no, it wasn't me who told her, Sir! Madam Henia said she heard rumors from the villagers who like to gossip.”

Sakha was silent for a moment, muttering, “I should tell them soon.”

***