"Guess who'll reach home first, Ayah or us?," I playfully asked Huzaifah when we started our journey back to Putrajaya after being away from home for four days. I was asked to give a talk in Langkawi, so I thought it would be good to visit my biological mother on the way back, thus I brought all three boys with me, together with my helper and Mak's helper. It was my third trip to Langkawi this year, but the first in which I had to drive all the way to Kuala Perlis alone (during previous trips, I either drove a little or not at all)
We stopped by at Kampung Tunku first on our way back from Kedah. It was almost 10.00 p.m. when I started driving back to Putrajaya, hence me questioning Huzaifah. Hubby had to teach in Labu, his routine on the second and the fourth Sundays of every month, and his 'class' usually ends at around 9.30p.m. followed by dinner which usually ends at 10.30 p.m. or sometimes later.
I thought hubby would be home by 11.30 or 12 midnight the latest. I called his handphone but was immediately connected to his voicemail. When there was no sign of him arriving after midnight, my helper asked me if I would like her to accompany me waiting upstairs. That's our normal routine, when hubby is not around, my bibik would sleep with the children upstairs instead of in her own room downstairs just to keep me company.
I called his handphone again - and got the voicemail.
Numerous calls placed at different times got the same response - the voicemail.
I began to worry.
It's not like hubby to return late without calling first. Or an SMS, at the very least.
Labu is still a remote place after all - with the quiet, large, dark plantations and all.
Anything could happen and there might not be coverage for the phone.
He was not using our car but had to loan my cousin Faiz's Myvi, and who knows what could happen in that dark secluded area where it would not be easy to get access to a tow truck should anything unbecoming happened...
I started making do'a for him. I thought of calling my MIL's place in Seremban, but it was already late and I did not want to bother my MIL at such hour. After all, it could be nothing and I didn't want her - with her hypertension and all - to start fretting about nothing.
But still, I was worried.
Think, think, what could be his reason to be late? "Maybe he went to give the old Imam a visit," or so I told myself, to calm myself down. Hubby had told me about the Imam who had twice experienced stroke and is currently undergoing treatment using BioDisc and already there seems to be signs of recovery for the Imam.
When Baby Haniyya woke up for his midnight/early morning feed at around 2.00 a.m., hubby was still not back.
When Huzaifah 'mengigau' at around 4.00 a.m., hubby was still not back.
While one part of my mind told myself to stay calm, that nothing was wrong; the other half of my mind went "what if? what if?" with all sort of horror stuff. Yes, my imagination can run wild sometimes...
When hubby finally returned at about 5.30 a.m. I wanted to simultaneously punch him and hug him. I kissed his hands instead.
"Why are you late?". It's hard not to sound like a nagging wife after one long restless night.
"Oh, I left something in Rasah, so I went back to Rasah after the class was over in Labu. I felt sleepy so I thought of taking a short nap first before returning home..."
"Why didn't you call?"
"The battery went dead and I really thought it was going to be a short nap. I mean, I didn't intend to spend the night there, but..." He smiled weakly.
Heh, good thing I'm not the kind that stabs her husband when he comes home late.
Seriously, a phone call could put all those unnecessary worries away.
But then, the main point was, he was safe and sound and back home in one piece...
Right then, that's what mattered most and I was really grateful for that, alhamdulillah.
So I gave him a hug.
A tight hug.
And uttered a thankful do'a quietly.
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