Chapter 33.5 - how we got together (Part 5)

- Alex side -

After everything that happened at the hospital... we finally make it out, half-dragged by exhaustion and half-pulled by the weight of reality. Ms. Jackie’s still in the ward. Stable, but she’s not coming home tonight. Probably not for a while.

As we step out under the cold night air, Mr. Hopkins looks at us with a forced grin and tired eyes.

“Kid… Puan Mas… thanks for that. Really. Anyway… you’re all welcome at our house, okay?”

I exchange a glance with Mom. We both nod without a word.

It's already late. The sky’s bleeding dark, and my stomach’s staging a revolution.

Grrrrrowl~

“Darn it… ugh… I’m starving…”

Mom glances at me with a smirk. Her expression’s way too calm for the chaos we just survived.

“Well, as punishment… no dinner for you then.”

“HUH!? What the heck!? What’d I even do?! Save a life and starve to death, is that it!?”

She just shrugs like it’s divine justice.

We wait by the curb for a taxi when—speak of the devils—Mr. Hawk and Mrs. Claire walk over. The refined, effortlessly cool couple who always look like they just stepped out of a magazine photoshoot.

“Puan Mas,” Mr. Hawk calls out. “Where are you all heading?”

Mom smiles awkwardly. “Going back… haven’t eaten yet. Gotta cook... or my son will.”

Wait, huh? What’s that supposed to mean?

“I was just gonna make Maggie mee…” I mumble. “Quick. Easy. Reliable…”

Mom flicks my ear.

“Yeah. And slowly erase what’s left of your brain’s nutrition.”

“Haha…” Mr. Hawk chuckles. “Well, Claire’s vegetarian. But there’s a place nearby we all like. Good food, peaceful vibes. Want to join us?”

Mrs. Claire smiles gently. “Besides, Natalie’s been an angel tonight. Super helpful. You all must be tired after everything that went down.”

Angel, huh? More like demon with a smile. But I keep my mouth shut.

“Ooh, they have Mexican food,” Mr. Hawk adds. “Great cheese nachos.”

Cheese nachos...?

My brain instantly short-circuits. My mouth reacts faster than my dignity can stop it.

Drrrroooolllllll~

I can already imagine the cheese stretching in slow motion… the crispy edges… the salsa dripping—

Natalie stares at me like I’m the world’s dumbest dog.

“Better shut that mouth of yours before flies turn it into a breeding ground.”

I blink at her. “Huh!? I’m just hungry, okay!? I’m a growing boy!”

She crosses her arms and leans in smugly.

“There’s grass here. Might as well chew on that, Bessie the Cow.”

I glance at the grass. It’s fresh. Green. Sorta dewy. Honestly… kinda appetizing in a weird, desperate way.

“Y’know what… screw it.”

I bend down to pick up a tuft.

“WAIT—ALEX, NO—!” Natalie yells, grabbing my hand mid-motion.

“What! I’m hungry!!”

She yanks me back like she’s preventing a national security threat.

“You idiot! That’s not food—!”

Suddenly—WHACK!

A firm knock to my head sends me reeling. I turn and see Mom glaring at me, hands on hips.

“I know we’re all starving, but YOU are not a cow! Got it?!”

“O-ouch… Message received, ma’am…”

The others try not to laugh, but I can hear Luna snorting behind her hand. Even Mr. Hawk's struggling to keep a straight face.

So this is how I go out, huh? Not in a blaze of glory, but... by trying to eat grass in front of everyone I know.

We’re still standing awkwardly near the sidewalk, stomachs rumbling like a chorus of angry demons, when Luna suddenly claps her hands together.

“Hey! Why don’t we go to my place? ¡Mi mamá* runs a food stall just around the corner!”

Mr. Hawk raises a brow with a faint smirk. “Well, better than starving. Lead the way, Luna.”

With that, we follow her into the quiet streets, lit by flickering neon and warm street lamps. It’s funny — I hadn’t realized Mr. Hawk came by taxi. Rich guy instincts, I guess.

The air gets warmer as we walk deeper into a lively corner of the city, music playing from somewhere distant. Then I see it — a cute, colorful food truck parked under a glowing sign that reads "La Vida Sabrosa."

Luna rushes ahead and shouts in excited Spanish.

“¡Mamá! ¡Ya estoy aquí! ¡Tenemos un cliente!”

A woman in her forties pops her head out from behind the truck window, wiping her hands on an apron. Her features are sharp yet kind — definitely Luna’s mom.

“¿Dónde te habías metido? ¡Ven a echarme una mano!”

I blink. Spanish’s not my thing, but I get the vibe: Mom Mode activated.

Luna spins back toward us with a big grin, hands on her hips.

“Welcome to my family’s food truck! We serve authentic Mexican food — tacos, enchiladas, tamales, you name it! And don’t worry…” — she winks at Claire — “we’ve got vegetarian options too~!”

I narrow my eyes. “This is basically just taking advantage of us…”

At the same time, Natalie mutters beside me:

“That’s basically taking advantage of us.”

We both pause. Look at each other. Blink.

“Stop copying me!” I bark.

“You stop copying me!” she snaps back.

Our glares lock like it’s a scene from a dramatic shoujo anime, background fading to black with that tense violin sting.

Tsk. This girl seriously grinds my gears sometimes. Always acting like she’s two steps ahead of me.

I turn away with a dramatic flick of my jacket.

“Hmph.”

She crosses her arms and turns too.

“Hmph.”

From behind, I hear Luna whisper to Claire, “Oohhh… tension.”

Claire just giggles like a saint, and Mr. Hawk chuckles as he steps forward to order.

“Don’t mind them,” Mom says as she follows the line to the truck. “They’re just tired. And in love.”

“MOM!!!” I whip around.

“WHAT!?” Natalie yells at the same time, cheeks flushed red.

“Relax,” Mom smirks. “I was talking about the food.”

But I can feel Natalie’s eyes on me.

And for some reason… I’m not sure if I want to look away.

We finally settle down at a set of foldable tables and plastic chairs right beside Luna’s family food truck. There’s a cozy glow from a nearby string of warm fairy lights, and the air smells like spice, cheese, and something dangerously delicious.

Just as I take a seat, fwip!

Luna suddenly dashes off behind the truck… and returns a second later in a frilly red-and-yellow waitress outfit, apron and all.

“¡Tadaaa~! Welcome to La Vida Sabrosa! Please enjoy our spicy hospitality!”

“Whoa… quick-change magic?” I blink.

We glance up at the menu board — colorful chalk scrawls listing everything from tamales to quesadillas, and—

Sniff sniff…

My nose twitches. There it is. That heavenly scent…

I slowly stand up, my body moving like it's being guided by the gods of hunger themselves. Natalie notices and casually follows behind me, arms folded like a suspicious older sister.

There, bubbling in a giant metal pot, is something golden, thick, and fragrant — a creamy lava of bliss. My eyes widen as the smell hits me like a freight train of happiness.

“Uhh… cheese nachos?” I ask, voice half-possessed.

Luna grins and gives me a waitress-style wink.

“Got it~ One cheesy sin coming up.”

Behind me, Mom’s already calling out her order.

“Shrimp tacos, avocado salad — oh, and make sure there’s no pork in anything, ya hear?”

“Of course!” Luna calls back, hands dancing like she’s done this a thousand times.

I slump into my seat again, drooling uncontrollably as I stare toward the food truck like it’s Valhalla.

Drrrrooollll~

Then a voice slices through my food fantasy like a katana.

“Hey, control your face!! You’re scaring the customers!”

Natalie jabs a finger at me. Her expression’s a mix of horror and… amusement?

“Wha—? I can’t help it! This is divine intervention!!”

She crosses her arms, smirking. “You’re like a starving puppy that got reincarnated as a boy.”

I’m about to fire back when Mom casually sips her water and says with a laugh:

“Alex’s stomach is used to wild food. He used to follow me into the jungle for fieldwork. Ate almost everything that didn’t crawl away fast enough.”

“Please don’t say that out loud, Mom…”

“Oh, the jungle?” Mr. Hawk leans forward, interested. “I heard your research focuses on indigenous people—”

And there it goes. They’ve slipped into an academic discussion. Zero interest for me right now — I’m more concerned with the edible that’s about to hit my plate.

Suddenly Natalie leans toward me a little, her tone curious.

“Hey… since you’re Muslim… you’re not supposed to eat anything that’s not… halal, right?”

I freeze. Then blink. Then turn to her, eyes wide.

“Wait—you know about halal food!?”

Without thinking, I grab her arm in excitement.

“That’s amazing! You know what that means? That’s like, the coolest thing I’ve heard today!”

She stares at me.

Then blushes.

“H-Hey!! Too close!!”

My brain finally catches up.

“Huh—OH CRAP!! COOTIES!! I TOUCHED A GIRL!! EWWWW!!”

I dramatically fling my arms into the air like I’ve been cursed by dark magic.

Without warning, she kicks my shin under the table.

“Serves you right, dummy!!”

“OW!! NOT THE SHIN—!!”

“Hmph!!” she pouts, turning away in a huff.

I rub my leg, grinning through the pain.

What am I, some kind of human punching bag for her emotional outbursts?

Natalie side-eyes me with that trademark bossy look and asks, like she’s interviewing me for a documentary:

“Just wondering… what do you eat in the jungle?”

Huh?

I pause, staring at her blankly.

Is she implying I live in a treehouse somewhere? Like some of Tarzan?

“Hey… I live in the city, you know. We’ve got civilization. Restaurants. Hotels. Fancy resorts with air-conditioning and overpriced desserts.”

Natalie doesn’t blink. Her expression doesn’t change.

“Uh huh. I’ll ask again. Jungle food. What did you eat?”

Tch. She asked for it.

I look around — and then, as if fate wants to mess with her, I spot something under a streetlamp: a fat, shiny, almost cockroach-like bug crawling near the light pole.

Grinning mischievously, I pick it up by the tip of its shell.

“Here. Gourmet jungle snack.”

I offer it to her with the smug confidence of a master chef.

And in that instant—

“EYAAAAARGHHH!!”

Natalie shrieks like she’s being hunted by a demon, slaps the bug out of my hand (RIP, jungle snack), and grabs my wrist like it’s radioactive.

“LUNA!! WHERE’S THE WASHING BASIN!?”

Luna, blinking behind the food truck window, points. “Uh… over there?”

“Thanks!”

Before I can process anything, Natalie’s dragging me by the arm like a furious mom dragging her toddler out of a toy store.

“HEY—! Stop yanking me around!! I have dignity, you know!”

“EWW! YOU TOUCHED A BUG, YOU DUMB KID!”

She slams my hand under the running water and scrubs it like she’s cleansing evil spirits. Her face is flushed. Mine probably is too.

Her fingers wrap around mine just a little too long.

I glance at her.

She glances at me.

Oh no.

Oh no.

This… this is dangerously romantic-looking.

And then we both hear it.

That sound.

The sound of smug, parental judgment.

We freeze. Slowly… very slowly… we both turn our heads to the side.

Standing just a few feet behind us, like demons waiting to strike, are our mothers.

Grinning.

😈

“Heeey~” Mom sing-songs. “Looks like someone’s washing hands… together…”

Mr. Hawk crosses his arms with a knowing smirk. “How responsible of you two. Bonding over hygiene, huh?”

“MOM!!” I flail back. “She’s just being bossy!!”

Natalie snaps toward her dad. “DON’T get any funny ideas!!”

We both let go of each other so fast you’d think our hands were on fire.

I glare at her. She glares at me.

We both look away.

“Hmph.”

But even as I turn away, I can’t help but notice the faint pink dusting Natalie’s cheeks.

And maybe… just maybe… I’m smiling a little too.

We shuffle back to our seats after that jungle-handwashing disaster, both pretending that moment totally didn’t happen.

Natalie crosses her arms and stares at the sky. I pretend to adjust my hoodie and focus on the table like it owes me money.

Before the awkward silence can stretch too far—clack!

Luna arrives like a food-delivering angel with a big, proud grin on her face, balancing plates like a pro waitress from an anime diner episode.

“Ta-da! This one’s for Alex~! Mom made it extra special for you — added jalapeños just the way you didn’task for!”

She winks. Mischievous spark in her eye.

I barely register her words. My eyes are already locked onto the holy grail she places in front of me.

Behold…

Golden chips stacked like a fortress, blanketed in a molten waterfall of bubbling cheese, laced with shimmering green slices of what Luna cheerfully called jalapeños. Steam rises. The scent — spicy, creamy, and smoky — hits me like a truck of flavor.

My hands twitch forward like I'm being pulled by divine instinct.

And just as I’m about to claim my rightful treasure—

“Alex.”

Mom’s voice slices through the air, calm but commanding.

I freeze with a cheese-covered chip dangling in midair.

“Pray before eating.”

“Oh—! Right!! Sorry!”

I set the chip down, sit up straight, and raise my hands.

“Allāhumma bārik lanā fīmā razaqtanā waqina ‘adhāban-nār… Āmīn.”

My voice is quiet but steady — it’s not just a habit. It’s a way of grounding myself. Of remembering where I came from.

The world goes still for a breath.

Even Natalie watches me, her expression softening just a little.

Prayer done, I grab a chip — one absolutely drowning in cheese — and take the first bite.

Crunch—

And then—

Mmmgh—

The cheese melts instantly. Rich. Salty. Gooey. With a kick of that green chili fire punching the back of my throat like a wake-up call from a ninja.

“Hot!! But sooo good!!”

Luna laughs from the side. “Told ya~ Jalapeños have a temper.”

I fan my tongue, tears forming at the corners of my eyes, but I don't stop eating. This is worth every bit of burn.

Natalie finally breaks the silence beside me.

“You look like you’re having a religious experience…”

I turn to her, mid-bite, cheese stretching from my lips.

“It’s because this is heaven.”

She rolls her eyes — but she’s smiling.

As I’m busy demolishing my plate of cheese nachos — spicy, gooey, absolutely divine — something tugs at my curiosity.

I glance sideways at Natalie, who’s quietly eating something that looks... green.

Very green.

“Hey… just wondering. What are you eating?”

She freezes.

Then slowly turns toward me — her eyes sharp, as if I’d just insulted her entire bloodline.

Did I say something wrong?

She doesn’t answer. Instead, she turns toward Luna and lifts a hand, elegant and calm.

“Luna, do you have… taco guacamole?”

Luna’s face lights up like fireworks.

“¡Sí! Coming right up!”

Guacamole taco? That’s... a thing?

Before I can even fully process it, a familiar voice cuts in — playful, loud, and zero filter.

“She prefers food that’s not related to anything that once breathed air.”

Phylis.

I turn to her.

She’s grinning like she just watched a full comedy special.

“Basically, she eats like a leaf—vegetarian stuff, plant-based, you know.”

I blink.

So that means…

“She’s basically a herbivore?”

Luna drops her notepad. Mr. Hawk drops his taco.

And Phylis—oh no.

“WAKAKAKAKAKAKAAA!!! HEY, NAT! I LIKE THIS KID!!”

She slams the table as if I just became her new best friend. Natalie, meanwhile, looks like she’s about to ignite on the spot.

“Phylis!!!” she growls.

Mr. Hawk just sighs, wiping his hands with a napkin, but looks at me with a weird mix of amusement and disbelief.

“You… really have no fear, do you?”

I shrug.

“I mean… I don’t really get why people avoid food. Food is food, right? You eat it, you survive. Simple.”

Mom, who’s been quietly feeding Hana beside me, suddenly clears her throat.

“Ehem… son, not everyone is like you, who can tolerate anything the world throws at you — physically or mentally…”

She gives me that mom look. The one that says “I love you but you’re a wild animal.”

Mr. Hawk chuckles deeply.

“Honestly, the way you talk — reminds me of someone. Like déjà vu.”

Mom nods, a faint smile on her lips.

“Yep… Just like Man’s brother, remember?”

“Usman,” Mr. Hawk says with a nostalgic sigh. “He once dragged me deep into the jungles of Borneo and forced me to eat some squirming white thing from a tree trunk.”

I blink.

“You mean the butot? Palm-sized jungle worm?”

Everyone stares.

“It kinda tastes like chicken.”

Phylis leans forward, wide-eyed.

“Wait, WAIT — did you eat it raw or cooked?”

I answer casually, like I’m talking about popcorn.

“Depends. If I’m really hungry and don’t have time, I just eat it raw. But if there’s a fire going, yeah… I cook it.”

Phylis stares at me.

Then explodes in laughter again.

“YOU'RE INSANE!! BUT I LIKE IT!!”

Natalie groans and covers her face. Luna is halfway dying behind the food counter from trying not to laugh. Mr. Hawk just shakes his head.

“Well… dinner’s never boring with this crowd.”

Natalie quietly munches on her guacamole taco, legs crossed elegantly under the table, her eyes flicking toward me every now and then like she’s sizing me up for a verbal takedown.

“Anything other than nachos on your menu?” she asks, mid-chew.

I glance at her, a bit surprised. “Eh, this is enough for me. I’d rather not tempt fate by asking for more…”

I lean back, wiping a trace of melted cheese from the corner of my mouth. Then I tilt my head toward the seat beside me.

“Besides… at least Hana’s enjoying her snack.”

My baby sister is happily in her own world, hands deep in a cup of mashed fruit paste. Her cheeks are puffed out like a chipmunk. She lets out a giggle, then suddenly—

Smack!

One tiny, chubby hand smears her banana-slime paste right across my face.

“…Hana—?”

She claps joyfully like she just made a modern art masterpiece on my cheek.

Natalie lets out a small puff of air through her nose. Then a snort.

And then—

Giggle.

I turn to her.

“Huh? What?”

She immediately looks away, trying to suppress the rising smile curling on her lips.

“Huh? Nothing…” she replies, stifling a full laugh, her voice trembling from the effort.

But she can’t hide it. Not from me.

That crazy girl is actually enjoying this.

Laughing. Giggling. Being normal.

I blink, stunned for a second — not by the mess on my face, but by the way her eyes sparkle in the dim streetlight, softened by something real. Something rare.

“You’re weird,” I mutter, grabbing a napkin.

She smirks. “Takes one to know one.”

We lock eyes — just briefly.

And even with baby goo on my face and melted cheese still lingering on my fingers, I feel… strangely okay.

I don’t even have the energy to flinch.

Natalie suddenly steps in front of me and strikes a confident pose—arms on her hips, one leg angled like a fashion model, her chin raised slightly with that sparkle in her eye.

“So?” she asks, eyes locked onto mine. “What do you think of me?”

Luna’s jaw drops. “Girl, what are you doing?!”

Phylis, standing off to the side, squints like a scientist analyzing test subjects under a microscope. “Interesting… very interesting,” she mutters while folding her arms.

I blink.

My brain tries to process this in real time, but all I can manage is—

“Umm... normal, I guess?”

Facepalm.

Luna actually slaps her forehead with a groan, while Phylis arches an eyebrow so high I’m sure it’s going to orbit the sun.

Natalie freezes. Her smile twitches.

“Huh? That’s all?” she repeats, her voice dropping half a pitch.

Then suddenly—her energy shifts.

“I see… Maybe I need to recalibrate the design.” She spins around dramatically, muttering to herself like a mad scientist. “No, no… too simple… maybe with a ruffled hemline, no—layered—like Marie Antoinette meets Coco Chanel…”

I slowly lean back.

What… just happened?

My eyes trail after her as she begins scribbling notes in the air with an imaginary pen.

That aura… That bizarre flair… that fierce drive to be unapologetically herself...

No.

No no no no.

That feeling. That vibe.

Why does it feel so familiar?

Why does she—?

Frederica.

A jolt runs down my spine. I quickly turn away, pretending to look at literally anything else. I don’t want to compare her to Frederica. I shouldn’t.

But damn it… it’s there.

The fire in her eyes. The chaos in her laugh. That burning individuality that refused to be boxed in.

My chest tightens.

Why her? Why now?

Before I can think too long, Natalie suddenly turns back toward me and inches in—way too close. Her face is just there, centimeters from mine.

“What’s wrong with you?” she asks, peering into my soul like I’m a misbehaving lab rat.

I feel my heart slam against my ribcage.

Heartbeat.

One. Two. Three. Nuclear launch initiated.

Emergency protocol activated: CODE RED. WE'RE UNDER ATTACK. ABORT EMOTION. RETREAT TO STUPID-BOY MODE.

“Hey! Don’t get too close! Eww! I—I’m gonna get cooties or something!”

WHACK.

A crisp hand chop slams down onto my head.

“Ow! What was that for?!”

“Dumb,” she mutters. Chop.

“Dumb!” Chop.

“HMPH!” she snorts and whips her head away, arms crossed dramatically.

I rub my aching skull, grinning like an idiot.

Yeah... I definitely deserved that.

But still—my eyes glance at her, her face still red and pouty. My heartbeat's still out of rhythm.

She’s loud. She’s crazy. She’s annoying.

But…

Something about her is starting to make sense in a way nothing else ever has.

I try to catch my breath from Natalie’s recent “karate chop of justice,” but just when I think I can breathe again…

Phylis casually slides in next to me on the couch like a villain making her debut in Episode 3.

With a slow, eerie smile, she leans in.

“You know…” she whispers, her voice like silk dipped in mischief, “…you’re really interesting, Alex. Hehehe…”

My soul escapes my body.

Creepy.
Like actual horror-movie creepy.

She just stares at me.

Like, stares. No blinking. Just that one long anime villain smile.

“Don’t mind her,” Natalie grumbles nearby with a roll of her eyes. “She’s just being weird. Again.”

Phylis doesn’t even turn. She’s still laser-locked on me.

“Oh?” she croons. “Says the girl who wore a full Victorian ballroom dress to elementary school. With lace. And gloves.”

Critical hit.

Natalie freezes for a moment. Then…

🔥💢🔥
A terrifying crimson aura erupts behind her.

Lightning cracks in the background. Thunder roars.

She turns slowly, her eyes glowing with fury.

“You. Take. That. BACK.”

“Make me.” Phylis smirks.

AND THEN—

I don’t even get to blink before Natalie grabs me by the shirt and starts strangling me instead?!

“GRAAHHHHH!!! PHYLIS!!! STOP SAYING STUPID STUFF LIKE THAT!!!”

“WHY ME?!” I choke out, flailing like a noodle. “WHY IS MY NECK THE COLLATERAL DAMAGE?!”

Phylis just fans herself dramatically, completely unbothered.

“Ooooh~ spooky~” she singsongs. “Are you gonna haunt me in your pretty little corset, Miss Dracula?”

CRACKLE.

Natalie squeezes harder. I’m dying. I’m dying. This is it. This is how I go.

“OOOIII—!” I wheeze. “Stran…gle…her…not…me…”

Natalie turns her death glare on me.

“SHUT UP, YOU DUMB JUNGLE BOY!!! EEEEKKK!!!”

And now she’s strangling me harder out of pure embarrassment.

Natalie.exe has crashed.

Phylis is howling with laughter in the background, clapping like a proud big sister watching a drama unfold.

Honestly?

I don’t know if I’m in danger, in love, or just plain cursed.

Maybe all three.

One thing for sure

“WHY DON”T YOU JUST STRANGLE HER INSTEAD OF ME!!!!!!!!!!!!”

To be continued