Madinah. The sacred city that inspired the name of their daughter, Almadina.
After ten hours of flying, Al finally walked hand in hand with her parents into the Prophet's Mosque. It had been her childhood dream — to bring her beloved mother and father to this holy place. That dream had come true. A swell of pride and gratitude rose in her chest, and one word whispered in her heart: "finally."
But in front of Gate 25, that joy was crushed.
Longing shot through Al's chest like a bullet — fast, sharp, and merciless.
"When we go for Umrah, let's meet right here at this gate. Gate 25 is where Indonesian couples usually wait for each other. I want to wait for you here too, so we can walk back to the hotel together."
Al could still hear Ahsan's voice. He had said that one evening while they were lying next to each other, casually scrolling through Instagram reels about Umrah.
It wasn't the first time. Ahsan always shared his dreams — the places he wanted to visit, the things he wanted to do, and how he imagined holding Al's hand throughout their sacred journey.
Ahsan had been to Umrah before. He fell in love with the cities of Makkah and Madinah.
Unlike Al, who, at the time, only wanted to make her husband and parents happy — chasing blessings without truly feeling drawn to the place. But now, she finally understood why people longed for this city.
And heartbreakingly, the person who helped her see that was no longer with her.
Al took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.
Her eyes fixed on the number above the gate.
"So... Gate 25 became your gateway to the barzakh, didn't it, Mas?" she whispered.
"You're not here waiting for me, not walking me back to the hotel after all, are you?"
She looked down at her right palm — the hand he used to hold every time they walked together.
Now, it felt cold.
Not from Madinah's soft breeze, but because the hand that used to warm it was gone.
Al remained still at that very spot, as if time had stopped for her.
Thousands of people walked by, but she noticed none of them. It was just her… and the echo of memories with Ahsan.
Her thoughts wandered back to their final days together.
She remembered clearly: when the medical team gave up, her first words weren't prayers or cries, but fragile hope wrapped in desperation.
"Mas... didn't you say we'd go for Umrah? We've been saving up…"
As if that plea could bring him back. Because she knew how deeply he longed for that sacred journey with her.
Tears fell without restraint.
She remembered standing outside the ICU door. She had kissed him, apologized over and over, whispered how much she loved him… and waved with a hopeful smile, saying, "Bye, love."
She truly believed everything would return to normal — that Ahsan would recover, walk out of that room, and take her hand again.
Ahsan had waved back with a calm, gentle smile.
Only now did Al realize: perhaps it wasn't the smile of someone who felt okay… but the smile of someone saying goodbye — a final gift to ease her heart.
Her tears flowed faster.
"No matter how beautiful a farewell is… doesn't it still hurt just the same?"