The one with Yaman's dream home

Yaman had everything he had ever wanted. A small blue farm house, with three bedrooms, a garden filled with drying flowers due to the summer heat, a small ponds for swimming ducks, tiny barn for chicks and lambs.
And every morning, he would stare at each like a routine - questioning himself why despite of having everything he still felt nothing within.

He was told this was his hard-earned house from his early age growing up in this village. He worked days and nights to make his dream came true. And finally he had one of his own, all for himself.

He was told he had no parents no more. The villagers practically raised him, fed him, provided him with basic education in the school village. And then he stayed, to run errands, to operate his small farm of agricultural food business, to help people, to get involved with the community for everybody adored his kindness and love he had for everyone, especially children and orphans.

He was told he always volunteered at the orphanage near the small town not far from this village. He taught the children to read, count, sing, archery, horse-riding, be happy and enjoy life to the fullest.

But oh the irony, when he came back to this empty house he could not call home, he knew he could use some of his own advice.
Everything that he knew was either told or informed by the villagers. The uncles, the aunties, the children whom called him 'Yamanim' as 'my Yaman' ought to make him felt like he was finally home but he wasn't.
Deep down in his tiny little heart, he definitely felt something was missing. Like he was not a whole of himself. Like a piece was taken out of him. Like he was breathing but not properly.

Like he knew how it felt to feel like a whole person but he was not anymore.
Tonight was like any other. He stared at the empty darkness in his room for nothing. He couldn't sleep, topsing and turning to find the mood but failed miserably.

He walked to the window and pushed the glass further out, only to get some night summer breeze to help him breathing better.

It didn't work.

He talked about this to his doctor. Especially after the accident. When he woke up and remembered nothing. The only person whom reminded him of his own name was Arif Baba - of what he called him - whom was there in the hospital ward when he got out of the pitch black nightmare of nothing.
Arif Baba was saying, "Yamanim, you're back."

He was told that he went into a coma for almost three months. As the consequence of an accident in the orphanage while he was volunteering. He thanked God knowing that the kid he was trying to save from a small fire incident was alive and kicking. But he didn't appreciate the fact that this small incident had wiped out his memories to null.

"This is normal. It was probably due to psychological issue. You might be in trauma still," said the doctor almost everytime when Yaman was looking for an answer of his condition.

The doctor suggested psychological treatment but Yaman refused. Either he was too afraid to find out what he had left behind, or he wanted to try living moving forward as this could be his second chance to restart his life afresh.

He looked up to the sky. The view from this house had never failed to amaze him. From his naked eyes, he could tell the north star was shining north directing him to keep moving forward despite all the suffocating feelings he might be experiencing along the way. He didn't know he was into stars and skies, but he would always feel contented just by knowing the star would be there in the sky whenever he looked up - as his guide, his compass for life.

"O' Allah, give me peace and calm," he prayed, eyes never moved away from the only thing that would ground him back to earth.

He woke up with a routine. Morning prayer, small breakfast, simple cardio exercise and at sharp 9 in the morning, getting ready to drive his decent jeep to the farm. He usually would have staffs already working since the dawn but being there to monitor and get first hands information of any slippage had always been his priority to keep the business going. He couldn't care less on his own profits but he was aware how this farm contributed a lot to the local community in this village and neighbouring as well.

Hence, sustaining the business to keep providing job opportunities and ensuring food chain supply did not get interrupted were his drive to keep going.

He got into the jeep that was parked in his backyard overnight. Before turning the key to ignite the engine, he's got his eyes stuck on the small pond with swimming ducks nearby.

A voice of his own echoed within, "Do you want ducks as well?"

"Do you want ducks as well?"

"Do you want ducks as well?"

He knew he had said those words before. To someone. He was asking someone. He could feel like it was yesterday, the feeling of being a whole while muttering those words in his low voice, whispering like it was a secret conversation just between the two involved.

But who -

What -

He couldn't figure it out.

Until he encountered a stunning stranger with a pair of green eyes that evening - NOT asking for his help.