Tsabinu’s voice strained, making my own chest ache.
While Andi would happily pay to hear gossip, my brother would rather pretend to be deaf and mute than talk about other people—especially not aboutthem.
So, with instinct driving me, I quickly descended the stairs, heading straight for their table.
Mission: saving Tsabinu.
“But don’t you think it’s strange—” Andi’s words stopped mid-sentence when his eyes met mine. My presence made him cough into his hand, then pull away from my brother. He sat upright, while Tsabinu’s eyes trailed after me.
I looked at my brother, wearing black sports shorts and a sleeveless black shirt, his defined arms showing, sweat still glistening on his face, and his hair damp. He’d clearly just returned from his jog.
“What are you guys talking about? Looking so serious?” I asked, pretending not to know. Tsabinu immediately slid asteaming cup of hot chocolate across the table towards me. It looked like he’d made it for me.
Andi cleared his throat, fingers drumming the table as his eyes darted between us. “Nothing. Right, Bibu?”
I held my smile.
I took a sip of the hot chocolate, and Andi fidgeted, stood up abruptly, and slung his bag over his shoulder.
“Let’s go, Biba.” He turned to my brother, who was still watching us in silence. “Tsabinu, see you later,” he said, grabbing my shoulder. I hurriedly set my empty cup back on the table.
Then, Tsabinu’s phone buzzed. He stared at the screen, and in the next second, he shot up and hurried ahead of us.
“What’s wrong? Did something happen?” I asked.
He glanced back as he took the stairs. “Nothing. Work came in, so I need to shower.”
Frowning, Andi’s eyes narrowed. “It’s a fucking holiday, and you’re still working?” He clicked his tongue and looked at my brother with deep concern, the way one would look at a rabbit lying helpless after being hit by a car. “Honestly, Bib. Get Zaeem to pay you more.”
My brother ignored him, rechecking his phone. “I might be back late. If you two eat out, make sure you get something for Dad.” His gaze slid to Andi. “Watch over my sister, Ndi. Don’t let her get so much as a scratch.” With that, he headed upstairs.
Andi rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, have I ever let her get hurt? Well, physically, no. But emotionally?Someone else has already done that.” For the last sentence, he said under his breath.
I frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Well… What do you think?” He teased, and without warning, bolted.
I shot after him, yelling, “ANDI! WAIT! WHO DID YOU MEAN BY THAT!!”
« -- * --»
“Andi, for fuck’s sake, I’m dying. I swear I’m going to pass out any second,” I whined for what must have been the fortieth time today. It was half past seven in the evening, twelve hours since we had set foot in this damn mall.
My feet were dead, my arms weighed down with his ridiculous shopping bags. Slinging more bags across his arm, he patted my shoulder. “Okay, okay, let’s eat first. Your brother asked us to get something for your dad, remember? Where should we eat, Bib?” He glanced around, unfazed.
I wanted nothing more than to collapse onto one of the display beds in the furniture store and stay there.
Then my phone chimed, and I stood there, locked in place, lifting my brow.
My heart lurched, hard enough to steal my breath when the name flashed on the screen—a text.
I should have turned off my phone after hours; this message felt like a warning of an impending meteor strike. My body flinched at every notification, my grip tightening as the words sank in.
Mr Zioh:Claid Hotel & Lounge, Menteng, Central Jakarta, No. XX.The owner of this phone is currently highly intoxicated and unconscious. We kindly request immediate assistance from a family member or relative.Manager, Claid Hotel & Lounge. *Photo*
The next moment, I didn’t even know what possessed me, but my body moved on its own. I bolted. Running as fast as I could, abandoning the shopping bags, and leaving Andi shouting my name behind me.
7
