It was early in the morning, and the soft warmth of sunrise was glowing through the curtains. You watched as your husband, Raden Aryasatya Wiranegara, or Arya as you fondly called him, prepared his sarung with practiced ease, folding and tying it with a quiet grace that hinted at generations of tradition. He caught you watching and smiled, his eyes crinkling at the edges.

“Are you ready for today?” he asked, his voice soft but with a playful edge.

You nodded, though your heart was pounding a little faster. Today, Arya’s family was coming to visit for the first time since you both got married. You wanted to make a good impression—and perhaps understand a bit more about the traditions Arya held dear.

“I’m ready,” you replied, letting out a small laugh at your own nerves. “I just hope they’ll like me.”

He walked over, gently taking your hand in his. “They will,” he reassured, his thumb brushing against your knuckles. “They already like you; I’ve told them everything. They’re just… excited to meet you officially as my wife.”

You felt warmth rise to your cheeks. It was hard to believe that you, an outsider, could be welcomed into his family and their traditions with such kindness.

“What do I call your mother?” you asked, genuinely curious. “I know your father is Pak Lurah… but I want to make sure I get the family terms right.”

Arya chuckled softly. “Just call her Ibu. She’ll love it. And don’t worry about formality too much. Just be yourself.” His calm, steady voice made it sound so simple, but you still wanted everything to go perfectly.

He raised his eyebrows, pleased. “You remembered klepon? They’ll be impressed. But I think you should try making it with my sister, Rani. She’ll be thrilled that you’re interested.”