The silence that followed was deafening.
Tsabinu’s expression tightened, his entire face hardening, though he forced his voice down. “Those girls. Give me their names.”
I slipped back into my room and shut the door, pressing my back against it. My fists clenched. I shouldn’t be weak, because it wouldn’t only drive me to the edge, but also would make my brother run after me, pull me up from thebrink. And the thought that my brother would still crawl toward me barefoot, even if his feet were bleeding, made a sick heaviness twist in my stomach. I wanted to scream to myself, because even at our age, my brother was still burdened by our dad and me. He couldn’t breathe peacefully or live free without thinking about us.
I only ever wanted to free him.
To cut him loose from this labyrinth.
Yet over the years, he had changed more. He looked at me with those fragile eyes, as though I might shatter at any moment. However, I couldn’t blame him, not after everything, not after what happened to Momand Dad.
But I couldn’t shake the feeling it was more than that. That something else had broken in him. Something was missing from him.
But once again, I didn’t understand.
I never knew anything.
It made me ask myself what the purpose of being with them at all was, when I was never truly present for them.
The knock at my door startled me. “Tshabina?” Andi’s voice. He called my name again, and I brushed my tears away.
“Bib? Are you okay?” he asked. “I’m coming in.”
The door creaked open. “Are you okay?” His voice came again, gentler now, making me turn. I forced a smile, nodding.
He looked at me with a wary and worried expression. He added, his voice sharp. “I promise those bitches won’t—”
“Let’s not talk about it anymore, Ndi.” I cut him off, weary. “I’m fine. Really.” I perched on the edge of my bed.
He frowned, clearly unconvinced, but exhaled after a long moment. “Fine.”
Andi stepped forward with caution and sat beside me.
“I think when Aditya’s back, I should talk to him,” I murmured. “I need to set things straight.” Maybe one of the problems was that I was always silent. I was too afraid tofight back and always accepted whatever I got with quiet grace, even though it only destroyed me.
Because I was such a coward.
As Andi said, I always stayed quiet and relied on time to erase everything. But it didn’t have a good effect; on the contrary, it worsened things.
He nodded. “Want me to come with?”
I shook my head. “I should do it alone. But thanks.”
“Alright. But you know, if you need anything, call me.”
I gave him a small smile.Thank you for not leaving, and I hope you never will, Andi.“Yeah. Thanks.”
Returning my smile, he pulled something out of his bag—a book. I knew what it was, and I let out a tired sigh. “Forget the crap that happened. Let’s move to step two,” he said with a grin. “You already did step one. You tried avoiding what reminded you of Zioh. That’s good. Now step two.” He flipped to the page and jabbed at it.
“This.” His eyes met mine, a mischievous grin stretching wide.“Go out on a date.”
I sighed, shaking my head. “Drop it, Ndi. Don’t start with nonsense.”
He clutched my shoulders. “Hey! You promised. You’ll always see Zioh starting tomorrow, especially while Didit’s away.” He fixed me with a sharp gaze. “Think about it, you’ll be the one documenting his project, you’ll be the one documenting him when he meets with big bosses, you’ll be the one documenting him in meetings with other teams, you’ll be the one documenting him in the field. It means, until this project’s done, both of you will be like Upin & Ipin, those damn bald twins—always together.Why?Because everything needs documentation. And who’s in charge of that?You.”
I stammered. “W-what does that have to do with—”
“It means if you keep seeing that hot ass creature, you’ll never move on!” Andi shot back. “So, you’ll need extra effort.”
