The late afternoon sun filtered through the lace curtains of Umi’s modest kitchen, casting golden streaks across the tiled floor. The aroma of rendang simmered on the stove, rich and spicy, as Umi stood by the counter, her hands deftly chopping shallots. At thirty, Umi was a vision even in her simple house dress and hijab—curves that could stop traffic, a generous behind that swayed with every step, and a presence that demanded attention without even trying. But today, her mind wasn’t on the meal she was preparing for Abah, her husband. No, her thoughts kept drifting to the house next door.
Yesterday, she’d caught a glimpse of him—Jonny, the new neighbor. A burly American, fifty years old, with a thick beard peppered with gray and a body that screamed rugged strength. She’d watched from the window as he hauled boxes into his new home, muscles flexing under a tight shirt, sweat glistening on his brow. And those eyes—mischievous, piercing, like he could see right through her modest attire and straight into her secrets. Just thinking about it now made her stomach flutter in a way it hadn’t in years.
“Umi, makanannya udah siap belum? Capek nih,” Abah’s voice broke her reverie as he trudged into the living room, tossing his work bag onto the floor. At thirty-one, Abah was still handsome, but the spark in their marriage had dimmed, replaced by routine and exhaustion.
Umi rolled her eyes, wiping her hands on her apron before stepping into the living room. “Baru juga masuk, udah selonjoran. Sabar dikit, dong. Masih goreng bumbu ini,” she said, her tone playful but with a sharp edge.
Abah just grunted, already sprawled on the sofa, his eyes glued to his phone. “Ya udah, cepetan. Perut udah keroncongan.”
Umi crossed her arms, her full lips pursing. “Kerja seharian kok cuma bisa nyuruh-nyuruh. Nih, bini lo berdiri di dapur, bikin makan buat lo, minimal bilang makasih lah. Atau mau aku suruh tetangga sebelah masakin buat lo?”
Abah smirked, not even looking up from his screen. “Tetangga sebelah? Yang bule itu? Wah, kok tiba-tiba peduli sama tetangga baru, Mi? Biasanya kan lo cuek aja.”
Umi’s cheeks warmed, but she shot back, “Cuek? Aku cuma bilang sopan santun itu perlu, Bah. Lo yang malah curigaan. Takut aku kabur sama bule brewokan apa?” She turned on her heel, her hips swaying with a little extra sass as she returned to the kitchen, leaving Abah chuckling dryly.
She was just stirring the pot when a firm knock echoed through the house. Her heart skipped a beat for no reason she could name. “Bah, buka pintu dong!” she called out, but Abah only mumbled something incoherent. Sighing, Umi wiped her hands and made her way to the front door.
When she opened it, there he was—Jonny, in all his rugged glory. He wore a faded flannel shirt, sleeves rolled up to reveal forearms thick with muscle and dusted with dark hair. His beard framed a crooked smile, and those damn eyes twinkled with something dangerous. In his hands was a small plate of cookies, wrapped in plastic.
“Well, hello there, neighbor,” Jonny drawled, his heavy American accent rolling over her like warm honey. “Thought I’d swing by and introduce myself proper. Name’s Jonny. And I brought a little somethin’ to sweeten the deal.”
Umi felt her throat tighten, but she forced a polite smile, adjusting her hijab instinctively. “Oh, terima kasih, Pak Jonny. Saya Umi. Nggak perlu repot-repot bawa kue begini, kok.”
“Repot? Nah, darlin’, this ain’t no trouble at all. Especially not for a woman as stunning as you,” he said, his gaze dipping just enough to make her pulse race before meeting her eyes again. “I mean, damn, you make a simple apron look like high fashion.”
Umi laughed, a little too loudly, her hand fluttering to her chest. “Ah, bisa aja, Pak. Ini cuma baju rumah biasa. Bapak yang lebay.”
“Lebay? I don’t know what that means, but I’m guessin’ it’s you sayin’ I’m full of it,” Jonny grinned, leaning a shoulder against the doorframe, clearly in no hurry to leave. “But I’m just callin’ it like I see it. You got a glow, Umi. Makes a man wanna stick around and figure out what’s behind it.”
Her cheeks burned, but she tilted her chin up, refusing to let him see her falter. “Hati-hati, Pak Jonny. Di sini orang gampang salah paham. Nanti dikira Bapak lagi ngegodain istri orang.”
Jonny chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that sent a shiver down her spine. “Me? Flirtin’? I’m just bein’ neighborly. But if I’m steppin’ on toes, you just say the word, and I’ll behave. Maybe.”
Before Umi could fire back, Abah’s voice cut in from the sofa. “Mi, siapa tuh? Kok rame banget? Bule sebelah kok mesra amat sama lo?”
Umi turned, shooting Abah a glare that could melt steel. “Mesra apaan, Bah? Ini cuma ngobrol biasa. Lo yang malah bikin suasana awkward. Mending sambut tamu, sini!”
Abah stood, stretching lazily before ambling over. He gave Jonny a nod, his smile tight. “Selamat datang di lingkungan ini, Bro. Nama saya Abah. Istri saya nih, Umi. Kayaknya udah kenal banget, ya?”
Jonny laughed, extending a hand to Abah. “Pleasure to meet ya, man. And yeah, I was just tellin’ Umi here how lucky I am to have neighbors as welcomin’ as y’all. Ain’t often you meet folks with such… charm.” His eyes flicked to Umi for a split second, and she felt the heat of his gaze like a physical touch.
Abah shook his hand, his grip a little too firm. “Charm, ya? Hati-hati, Bro. Charm-nya istri saya kadang bikin orang lupa diri.”
Umi scoffed, crossing her arms. “Abah, udah deh. Pak Jonny cuma bawa kue, kok. Lo yang malah bikin drama. Aku balik ke dapur, ya, sebelum rendangku gosong gara-gara lo berdua ribut.”
Jonny’s grin widened as he watched her turn away. “Don’t let me keep ya, Umi. But I’ll be seein’ ya around. And if that rendang’s as good as you look makin’ it, I might just have to beg for a taste someday.”
She didn’t respond, but her lips twitched into a reluctant smile as she disappeared into the kitchen. Jonny gave Abah a final nod before stepping back. “Good meetin’ ya, man. I’ll catch y’all later.”
As the door closed, Abah muttered under his breath, “Bule kok genit banget. Lo tadi senyum-senyum sama dia, Mi. Hati-hati, nanti beneran minta dicicipi rendang lo.”
From the kitchen, Umi’s voice rang out, sharp and teasing. “Rendang doang, Bah? Lo takut aku kasih yang lebih enak apa? Tenang aja, aku masih inget siapa suamiku. Tapi kalo lo terus cuek begini, ya siapa tau aku cari yang lebih perhatian!”
Abah just snorted, dropping back onto the sofa, but the tension lingered in the air like a storm waiting to break.
Later, as Umi stood at the sink washing dishes, the clink of porcelain was the only sound in the quiet house. Abah had dozed off in front of the TV, leaving her alone with her thoughts. Her mind wandered back to Jonny—his rough, calloused hand brushing hers when he handed over the cookies, the warmth of his grip lingering on her skin. She shook her head, scolding herself. “Astaghfirullah, Umi. Pikiran lo kok gini,” she muttered under her breath, scrubbing a plate harder than necessary.
But even as guilt gnawed at her, a different feeling bloomed in her chest—something hot, reckless, and hungry. She glanced out the kitchen window toward the house next door, where a single light glowed in Jonny’s window. Her breath hitched, and for the first time in a long while, Umi felt truly awake.
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