Chapter 33.5 – How We Got Together (Part 10)

Present Time – Alex & Natalie Narrating

Alex:
This was the moment...
The exact moment we looked at each other—and something just clicked.

Natalie:
Our eyes met.
And somehow... our voices, our thoughts... they aligned.

Alex:
We suddenly realized there was something about us. A link.
Something we both carried.

Natalie:
Even though we were just kids, I felt it—
That I wasn’t alone anymore.

Alex:
It was also...
The first time I stopped thinking about Frederica.

Natalie:
He didn’t look down on me. He looked at me. Equal.

Alex & Natalie (Together):
That spark between us—
It was real.

Afterschool – Detention Room
Alex’s POV

The room’s quiet, as usual. Dusty sunbeams stretch across the floor like sleepy arms reaching from the window. Natalie’s already sitting next to me—but today, she’s... different.

Her outfit isn’t just her usual fashion statement.
She’s wearing something bold.
A fusion of baju kurung and modern design, with a flair that only she could pull off.

Ms. Forest raises an eyebrow, smiling.
“Wow, Nat. You really went all out today.”

Natalie suddenly stands, hands on hips, twirling like a runway model.

“What do you think?” she smirks.

I turn.
My brain short circuits.
My face? Instantly red.

“Y-Yeah… you’re hot.”
I say it before I even realize what I’m saying.

Ms. Forest: ☺️
Natalie: 😐

“Oh my~” Ms. Forest chuckles, clearly amused.
“Looks like you caught Alex off guard.”

Natalie leans in closer to me.
Way too close.

“So? What do you really think?”
That annoying smirk again… but man, she’s cute when she does that.

“Ugh—fine! I said it, okay?! You look hot! There! Happy!?”
I look away, hiding my face with my arm.

She giggles.
And for some reason…
That laugh—it sounds like her.
Frederica.

Why now…?

Alex (narrating)
Why, Allah?
Why show me a smile like that now?

Is this a test?
Or… a gift?

I’m still a kid.
Still clinging to the pain I buried deep inside.

But Natalie’s here.
Laughing.
Smiling.
And maybe—just maybe…
I don’t have to carry that pain alone anymore.

Present Time – Reflections

Alex:
That was the moment… the wall cracked. And light came in.

Natalie:
That was the moment… I reached for his hand—emotionally—and he didn’t pull away.

Together:
That was when we both realized…
This spark between us…
Was never just coincidence.

The day’s finally done. The sun has already dipped low, casting golden streaks through the empty hallway windows.

Ms. Forest gives us a little wave as we step out of the classroom.
“Good work, everyone. Be safe on your way home, okay?”

Then she pauses, placing a hand firmly on my shoulder.

“Son, please escort Ms. Natalie home, alright?”

“Huh!? Do I look like a bodyguard!?”
I raise both my hands in protest.

Ms. Forest narrows her eyes like she’s about to launch a lecture.

“You are a man, aren’t you?”

“I’m just a kid!”

“But a manly kid,” she smiles sweetly, twisting the knife. “Not a girl, right?”

“Ugh… yeah, I guess...”

She leans in slightly, her voice dropping to something gentler.
“Nat’s always walking home on her own. And she’s not exactly the social butterfly, you know…”

I glance at Natalie, who’s pretending not to listen but clearly is.

“Yeah, well, being a fashion designer with obsession issues kinda makes you feel like—”
I make a sharp turn toward her with a smirk,
“—Cruella de Vil sometimes.”

WHACK!

Natalie kicks my shin.
“Of all the villains, you chose Cruella?! Really!?”

“H-Hey! It’s either that or…” I tap my chin, grinning, “...Medusa from The Little Mermaid?”

WHACK AGAIN.

“You’re hopeless!! Łįįdáhí shik'éí, honeeni!”

Wait. Was that Navajo?

Without missing a beat, I shoot back in Lun Bawang:
“Nengko’ ngelau!”

Ms. Forest just chuckles and waves us off.
“Alright you two, off you go. It’s getting late, and I’m not in the mood to be a babysitter tonight.”

“Fine…” I mutter, rubbing my leg as Natalie smirks triumphantly beside me.

We leave the school behind.
The world’s turned golden and quiet. The campus is completely deserted—just the two of us, walking side by side down the long gravel path that leads toward her neighborhood.

For a while… neither of us say anything.

No teasing.
No jokes.
Just… silence.

But it’s not awkward.
It’s strangely comfortable.

Her face looks calm—no smug grin, no snide remark. Just that neutral expression. But somehow, it feels… gentle.

“…Hey.”

She turns slightly.

“It’s Natalie. Got it?”
That usual fire returns in a flash.

“…Right. Nat.” I rub my neck awkwardly.

I try again.

“What’s your favorite meat?”

“Meat?” she blinks. “I don’t eat meat.”

Wait, what?

“I’d rather eat veggies or fruits, thanks.”

“…So like… tofu?”

“Tofu?”

I blink. She blinks.

“Umm… it's kinda like cheese. But made from soy milk.”

“Soy? Like… soy sauce?”

“Yeah! Kicap!” I blurt out in Malay without thinking.

“Huh? Kicap? You’re weird…” she laughs softly, nudging my shoulder.

My heart stumbles a beat.

“…Yeah, soy sauce.”

She walks a little closer now, her shoulder barely brushing mine.

Two kids, walking home.
Side by side.
No running. No shouting. Just… walking.

And for some reason…
It hurts.

Alex (narrating):
This feeling—
This simple, stupid walk…
This is the kind of thing I never had with Frederica.

Something quiet.
Something warm.
Something… human.

we’re walking down together in the quiet street, the light breeze brushing past my face, when I hear a soft voice beside me.

“Hey…”
Natalie’s voice comes out almost like a whisper.

I glance over. She’s holding her own arm, her head tilted slightly down as she walks beside me. The golden sunlight dances against her brunette curls. For a second—just a second—I forget how to breathe.

Damn… she looks cute like that.

She looks up, eyes catching mine with that signature crooked smile that always messes with my head.

“This weekend… are you free?”

“Huh?”
My steps slow. That came out of nowhere. Why’s she asking me that?

“Uh… I think I’m free? Why?”

“Well…”
She twirls a lock of her curly hair, eyes glancing to the side.

“It’s like this—my sister’s busy with her extra class, Mom’s off to some yoga retreat, and Dad's locked in his university work again sooo…”

“Let me guess,” I sigh, already seeing where this is going. “You want me to escort you somewhere, right?”

“Yep!! Smart kid.”
She grins, poking my shoulder with a playful smirk.

“Do I look like the kind of kid who can handle everything?”

“YEP!!” she says again, louder this time, hands on her hips. “And there is no option. Only yes.”

“Huh?! Wha—Geez…”
I scratch the back of my head, already regretting the life choices that brought me here. “Fine… where to?”

She lifts a finger and beams. “Ummm… meet me at my house.”

“Huh? Okay…”

She leans in closer. “I’ll teach you how to ride the bus here.”

I pause mid-step. That makes me flinch a little. “Uh… heads up—there’s a reason I’m always walking, y’know…”

Without saying a word, I dig into my pocket and pull it inside-out.

Empty. Nothing but lint and sadness.

She stares at it, then just… smiles. Still smiling. Not even surprised.

“I have money. What else?”

“…Huh. Fine. You win.”

“Good,” she replies, as if she already knew I’d say that. The breeze tosses her hair a little, and that satisfied grin doesn’t leave her face.

I look away quickly. My ears feel warm.

(Seriously… what is she planning…?)

Out of nowhere, Natalie suddenly turns to me with a mysterious grin, eyes gleaming with that kind of playful danger only she seems capable of.

“Let’s play a game.”

I blink. “Uh huh… are you sure you can beat me?”
I crack my knuckles confidently. “I don’t lose at games.”

She scoffs, swaying her index finger left and right like a scolding teacher. “Tsk, tsk, tsk… Confidence is cute. But…”

Her smirk grows wider. Uh oh.

“So… what kind of game?” I ask cautiously.

She sits up straight like an announcer on a reality show. “Simple. I ask you a question, you answer it. If you can’t answer, I get to ask another. I’ll keep going… until I run out of questions.”

“…So it’s like an interrogation?”

Natalie: 😊
Me: 😑

“Okay-ay… fine…” I mutter. “Who goes first?”

Before I can even finish my sentence—
Clap! Clap!
She’s already thrown her hand forward.

“Rock, paper, scissors—go!”

“Wait—what?!”

Paper.

I stare at my hand. Rock.
I lost.
What the—?!
I never lose rock-paper-scissors!

“You’re so predictable,” she hums, flipping her hair like some smug psychic prodigy. “You always go rock first.”

“Huh?! Since when are you reading my brain?!”

She giggles and leans forward. “Alright. First question.”

She takes a breath like she’s preparing for a dive into my soul.

“…Tell me about your family.”

“Eh?”
My back straightens. “Well… I got a mom and a dad… and a little sister. She’s, like… two or three? Maybe?”

Natalie raises an eyebrow. “Are you really ten years old?”

“Uh… yeah? Why?”

She leans in a little closer, chin on her hand. “Next question…”

Here we go.

“What’s your mom like? And your dad?”

I pause for a moment, then shrug. “Hmm… Mom’s an anthropologist, by profession. And also by chaos. She’s not just crazy—she’s a whole disaster wrapped in sarcasm. Always dragging me into danger like it’s part of some weird ‘education program.’ Her definition of ‘fun’ could get someone hospitalized.”

Natalie chuckles under her breath.

I go on. “Dad, though? He’s the opposite. Kinda pious. He taught me how to pray, how to fast, how to be a good Muslim. Mom… well, let’s just say she’s not the most religious person. Sometimes I wonder how they even ended up married. Like—did they get lost at a conference and accidentally sign a marriage form?”

Natalie’s trying not to laugh now, holding back a smile.

“Oh—and Dad works with the Malaysian government. I don’t know the details, but it’s got something to do with construction and development or... cement? Bureaucratic stuff. Sounds boring, but he loves it.”

She tilts her head. “Wow… your family sounds kind of… formal?”

“Really?” I blink. “I never thought of it that way. But sure, I guess. Mom and Dad argue all the time about which principles to follow. Usually ends with an explosion—and I don’t mean metaphorical.”

I clap my hands like a comic book sound effect.
BOOM!

Natalie winces. 😖
“Dumbass!!!”

Her voice echoes through the empty park, and a nearby bird flaps away in panic.

I grin. “You asked.”

She taps her chin with a finger, lips curving into a mischievous smile.

“Well then—next question. Since you mentioned Lun Bawang before… why don’t you tell me more about them?”

I blink. “Huh? That came outta nowhere.”

She leans forward. “You did bring it up, so now I wanna know. It’s part of the game rules~”

I sigh, scratching the back of my neck. “Fine, fine…”

Natalie’s eyes light up. She's definitely enjoying this.

I clear my throat, shifting a little as I begin, not expecting to go full National Geographic today, but here goes:

“Well… the Lun Bawang are originally highland people. Their earliest known settlements were in the Kerayan-Kelabit Highlands, smack in the central north of Borneo. That was way before Borneo was split into what we now call Sabah, Sarawak, Brunei, and Kalimantan.”

Natalie’s brows furrow slightly. She’s listening—really listening.

“Around the 17th to 18th centuries, some of them started migrating—mostly to Sabah, Sarawak, and Brunei. But the majority stayed put in Kalimantan.”

Her lips part slightly. “Sounds like they moved around a lot.”

“Yeah, but not just that,” I add, my tone getting a bit more serious. “They weren’t just peaceful mountain folk. They were once known as fierce warriors, raiders… even bounty hunters. People feared them.”

“Woah…” Natalie leans back a little, looking surprised.

“Their highland homes gave them a crazy advantage—perfect for ambushing enemies from higher ground. And because they lived in rough mountainous areas, they developed insane stamina and agility. Like—climbing ridges, sprinting through dense jungle, carrying stuff across rivers... no sweat.”

She tilts her head. “So they were like… Bornean ninjas?”

I grin. “Pretty much.”

“But…” I pause, expression darkening just slightly, “not everything was glory and honor. During the Brooke era in Sarawak and the Christian misionary in Sabah explain that they were actually looked down on. Called the worst ethnicity, even.”

Her eyes widen. “Wait—seriously?”

“Yeah. Mainly because of how they lived at the time. Their longhouses were messy. Drinking burak—this fermented rice alcohol—every day. They were often drunk, sick, and had poor hygiene. All that stuff was documented in a book called Drunk Before Dawn by Shirley Lees.”

Natalie frowns now, her arms folded, gaze drifting slightly. “That’s… kind of sad.”

“It gets worse,” I say, voice low. “In the early 1900s, a cholera epidemic hit Sabah and Sarawak. Combine that with tuberculosis and malaria… and their population dropped. Like—hard. From about 20,000 to just 3,000 people.”

“What…?” She looks stunned now. “That’s horrible…”

I nod slowly. “But here’s where it gets inspiring. The community leaders took charge. They reached out to Christian missionaries, hoping to change how they lived—health, education, everything. They abandoned a lot of old taboos, let go of harmful customs, and focused on building a better future.”

Natalie’s eyes soften.

“They transformed. New beliefs, healthier lifestyles, education, even basic hygiene. Slowly, they started coming back from the brink. Their numbers, their pride, their future… all started recovering.”

A small silence passes between us.

Then—

Natalie exhales softly. “Sounds long… but it’s really interesting.”

She looks at me, her voice quieter now. “I didn’t expect… that much history from you.”

I shrug, a little embarrassed. “What, you thought I was just a walking sarcasm machine?”

“Pretty much,” she says, grinning.

“Tch. Dumbass.”

“Hey!”

I chuckle and glance up at the sky.
That game… doesn’t feel like a game anymore.

Somewhere in her questions, she's trying to understand me—not just facts.
And for some reason… that makes my heart feel weird.

She crosses her arms and leans in just a little, that same curious spark flashing in her eyes.

“Well… next!” she declares. “Since I know you're Lun Bawang… is that all you are?”

I blink, caught off guard. “Huh? I mean… not exactly…”

“Eh?” Her expression shifts, leaning closer now, like a cat about to pounce. “What do you mean?”

I sigh, rubbing my neck. “I’m actually… mixed. My dad’s Tausug.”

Natalie tilts her head. “Tausug?”

“Yeah.”
I glance up at the sky, watching the clouds drift lazily. “Well, from what I heard… mostly from Dad—and Uncle Usman.”

She perks up. “Usman? I feel like… I’ve heard that name before…”

She squints, mumbling to herself. “Maybe from my dad…? Huh.”

I shrug. “Maybe. Kinda weird coincidence, but whatever.”

I sit up straighter, brushing off the leaves from my shirt as I prepare to drop another info-bomb.

“Anyway… the Tausug people are kind of legendary in their own right.”

Natalie rests her chin on her palm, clearly interested again.

“They're known as fierce warriors, kind of like the Lun Bawang, but different. The dominant ethnic group of the Sulu Archipelago. Mostly from places like Jolo, Indanan, Patikul, and Siasi. There’s over a million of them.”

She whistles. “That’s a lot.”

“They follow Sunni Islam,” I continue. “And the name ‘Tausug’ comes from tau—meaning person—and sug—meaning sea current. So, 'people of the current.' Fitting, since they’re excellent seafarers. Like... imagine pirates, nobles, and warriors all rolled into one community.”

“Okay, that sounds way cooler than expected,” Natalie admits.

I smirk a little. “They speak Bahasa Sūg, their own language. It’s related to Bisaya but has its own twist—two dialects even. Parianum for the coast folk, and gimbahanun for those living inland.”

She raises a brow. “Like mountain Tausug?”

“Exactly. Their economy’s pretty diverse too—three harvests a year. Corn, rice, cassava, and a bunch of stuff like peanuts, eggplants, coconuts for copra, even abaca for making ropes. They’re also big on fishing and livestock trading.”

Natalie’s eyes sparkle. “They sound so… active. Alive. Like they never sit still.”

“That's the Tausug,” I say, nodding. “But here’s where it gets intense.”

I pause a moment, letting the air thicken with that storytelling suspense.

“In the 13th century, they migrated from northeastern Mindanao. Back then, they lived in banwa, which were like village communities. Led by a panglima, and they had a shaman called mangungubat.”

Natalie blinks. “That sounds ancient. Like really ancient.”

I grin. “Wait till you hear this. In 1380, a Muslim missionary named Karim-ul Makhdum came to Sulu and started spreading Islam. Later, a dude named Sayyid Abubakar showed up in 1450. He married the daughter of Rajah Baguinda. When the Rajah died, Sayyid took over and created the Sultanate of Sulu.”

“Hold up—so he married into power and became sultan?” Natalie gasps. “That’s like straight out of a historical drama!”

“It is,” I chuckle. “They went from being warrior settlements to an actual monarchy. A sultanate, with full authority. And then came the chaos—Spanish invasions, Moro resistance, and later the Americans. Tausug warriors kept resisting. Even during the Japanese occupation in WWII, they fought back after the Jesselton Revolt where a lot of Sulu people were massacred.”

Natalie’s lips tighten. “That’s awful…”

“Yeah. But they didn’t back down. They pushed back hard and drove the Japanese out. Still, after the war, the Commonwealth started removing their privileges—their Islamic courts, their exemptions. Slowly tried to ‘standardize’ them.”

She folds her arms. “Let me guess—more rebellion?”

I shake my head. “Surprisingly, it was more political. Eventually, in 1989, they created the Autonomous Region in Muslim Mindanao—ARMM. It included Sulu, Tawi-Tawi, Maguindanao, Lanao… a way to give them back control.”

She exhales, impressed. “Your dad’s side of the family has been through a lot…”

“Yeah…” I glance down for a second, then smirk again. “But the culture’s beautiful too. They still follow Sunni Shafi’i Islam, but they mix in some older traditions. Their weddings have this traditional fingernail dance called pangalay. Elegant, slow, graceful… the bride moves her fingers like waves while wearing long silver nails.”

“Whoa…” Natalie stares off into space for a second, probably imagining herself doing that. “That’s kind of… pretty.”

“And they play the kulintang—that ensemble with small gongs lined up in rows. You’ve probably seen it at cultural events.”

She snaps her fingers. “Yes! With the rhythm that feels like heartbeats!”

I nod, a little surprised by how enthusiastic she’s getting.

“They had two main social classes,” I add. “The parianon—those living by the coast—and the gimbahanon—the hill people. When the sultanate formed, the old panglima became governors under the sultan, called datus. It was all deeply structured.”

Natalie sits in silence for a while, genuinely moved.

“…So you're not just some sarcastic know-it-all,” she murmurs, eyes narrowing. “You're a walking cultural treasure chest.”

I smirk. “Told you. I’m not just handsome and difficult.”

“Debatable,” she mutters.

“Hah?!”

She laughs, and the sunlight filters through the trees, dancing across her face. For a brief moment, something shifts between us. Not quite spoken. Not quite acknowledged.

She suddenly turns to me, her eyes steady, expression unreadable.

“Now your turn.”

“Huh?” I blink. “Then…”

I draw in a deep breath, stare at her for a beat—then shoot the question back.

“Tell me about your family.”

Natalie’s lips press into a small, thoughtful line. Then she lifts her head, eyes softening.

“Well… my dad’s Navajo. You met him, remember? Back during that awkward dinner at Luna’s place…”

I nod slowly, recalling the tall, calm man with the intimidating professor aura.

“He’s a well-known professor at the University of Arizona. Dean of History and Anthropology. He’s got a Ph.D., so technically, he’s Dr. Hawk. But he hates when people call him that outside of campus.”

She smiles faintly, then glances up at the sky.

“He’s also an explorer. Like, a real one. Always telling me stories about his travels around the world—desert digs in Morocco, lost temples in Cambodia, ghost towns in the Andes… It’s like he’s lived five different lives.”

She trails off for a moment, then shifts topics.

“My mom… well, she’s a doctor. Works at a hospital in Phoenix. Just a general practitioner—but also a certified yoga instructor.”

“Wait—yoga?” I raise an eyebrow.

Natalie lets out a half-laugh. “Yeah. Imagine dragging a ten-year-old to sunrise yoga in the middle of the desert. I still have trauma from the hummingbird breathing technique.”

I snort. “Explains a lot.”

She narrows her eyes. “Anyway… Mom’s originally from France. Or… that’s what she says. But Dad always teases her, says she’s actually from Boston—something about her attitude being more Canadian-French-American chaos than Parisian grace.”

I let out a small chuckle. “That sounds about right.”

“I’ve got relatives in France,” she adds. “But the one I remember the most is my late grandma—Mom’s mom. She was a seamstress. She loved sewing, making clothes, designing patterns. I guess… she’s the reason I’m obsessed with fashion. She always said, ‘You wear your confidence, not just your clothes.’”

She looks down, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, voice softening.

“I miss her sometimes.”

A brief silence falls between us. Then she straightens her posture and shifts tone.

“And of course… there’s Phylis.”

She rolls her eyes dramatically.

“My super annoying big sister. She’s ten years older, always acts like she’s my second mom, and keeps reminding me that she’s smarter than me.”

“But aren’t you smarter than her?” I ask, grinning.

Natalie lifts her chin. “Obviously. I just let her believe she’s winning.”

She sticks her tongue out playfully, and I can’t help but laugh.

“She’s studying double majors—Anthropology and International Law—at the same university as Dad. Honestly, she’s a pain, but… I guess she’s also the reason I push myself.”

A small breeze rolls through the trees again. I find myself staring—not just at what she said, but how she said it. That mix of pride, distance, and affection… it's very Natalie.

“That’s… a full detail,” I murmur.

She smirks. “Yep. You got the full line.”

“Huh? You did the same thing I did earlier.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she shrugs with mock casualness. “But mine had flair.”

I grin. “Sure. Yours came with yoga poses and haute couture.”

She pokes my side. “Don’t make me hummingbird-breathe you into submission.”

I laugh—and for a moment, the world feels lighter.

I turn to her again, squinting slightly, curious.

“Alright. Next question… Why do you hate meat? Or anything with meat, really?”

Natalie groans as if I just asked her to touch a toad.

“Ugh. I hate it!! The taste, the texture—everything about it is gross! I’d rather eat cabbage or fruit forever, and I’d still be happier than chewing animal flesh.”

She crosses her arms dramatically, nose scrunching like she just smelled rotten eggs.

I blink. “Seriously? What about tofu, then? Wanna try sharing mine next time?”

She narrows her eyes. “Tofu’s fine. I guess. But only if it's not trying to pretend to be meat.”

“What about eggs?”

She pauses.

“Eggs…? Umm… nah. Not interested.”

[Alex — Present Time, Narration]

She always said that.
Just like Mika.

Back when we were in L.A., I remember her going on the same vegetarian rant during a lunch outing. Something about animal ethics, digestive karma, and cabbage having a ‘gentle soul.’

Geez…

Back in the moment, I tilt my head. “Okay then. Cakes?”

Her reaction is instant.

“I hate cakes!!” she explodes. “Such a wasteful, disgusting food! Eggs and milk? Ewwww!”

I nearly drop my water bottle. “HUH!? Milk and eggs are literally gifts from Allah, you know!! Like—miracles!!”

She sticks out her tongue in pure theatrical disgust.

“That’s it,” I mutter under my breath. “I’m forcing you to eat my lunch next time.”

Her only reply is an exaggerated bleh.

“Okay, okay—what about bread?”

“That’s fine.”

“Oh? That’s acceptable?”

“Yep.”

“Then what is your favorite food?”

“Umm…” She taps her chin and giggles. “Not sure.”

I sweatdrop.
Me: 😓 “That helps… thanks.”

But honestly? She’s so weird.

Weird in the kind of way that keeps replaying in my head hours after we part ways.

“Alright,” I continue. “Next—what’s the deal with you and Wan?”

Her entire mood detonates.

“WAN IS JUST AN IDIOT!!!”
She practically yells.

The birds in the tree scatter from the sudden outburst.

She flips her hair aggressively. “Besides, I’m not interested in guys right now. Ewwwww!!!”

I wince a little.

Dang…
Poor Wan. All that effort, crushed like a bug on a windshield.

“Okay… okay… Let’s switch gears. Books or video games?”

“Books. Obviously.”
She lifts her chin. “Games are pointless. I have better things to do than click buttons and stare at a screen.”

“Board games?”

“Nope.”

“Then… what do you even do for fun?”

She pauses, then shrugs innocently.
“Read books.”

Yep.
Typical.

And yet… I can’t help but stare at her a little longer.

Even with her dramatic expressions, overly honest rants, and extreme hatred toward cake—
There’s something about her that pulls me in.

I don’t get it.
But I’m kind of… interested.

We walk really slow.

Like, really slow. Not on purpose…
Just the kind of slow that happens when you're not even aware of time anymore.

Our feet move forward, but our minds stay somewhere in this conversation.
Floating.

And neither of us seems in a hurry to reach the end of it.

[Present Time – Natalie’s Narration]

Alex probably didn’t even realise it that time…

But I did.
Every second of it.

That soft air, that subtle laugh of his, that stupid sarcastic tone that somehow feels like a hug...

That was the most romantic moment I ever shared with someone.

There were no roses. No candlelight. No hand-holding under fireworks.

But it was him.
And that was enough.

It’s not just the things he says.
It’s the way he says them. The way he looks at me mid-sentence like I’m the only person on the planet.
He doesn't confess things… he communicates in his own quiet, sideways way.

And somehow…
That’s why I fell for him.

So hard, it scares me sometimes.

[Alex – Back in the Moment]

I steal a glance at her as she twirls a strand of hair.
Yeah. Definitely in designer-mode again.

I smirk a little and decide to stir the pot.

“Well, here’s another one…” I say. “If you look at what I’m wearing… what do you imagine?”

She stops walking. Her eyes scan me up and down—like I just stepped onto a runway at a fashion disaster expo.

Then it happens.

Cruella Mode: Activated.

“Hmm… maybe… a bit of wannabe street hip-hop... mixed with discount brand dork.”

“HUH!?” I blink. “Dork?! This is cool, okay?!”

“Cool?!”
She throws her arms up in mock horror. “You think this is cool?!”

I look down at my outfit—just a plain dark T-shirt, some loose joggers, and my favorite sneakers.

“Yeah! What’s wrong with plain shirt and pants? It’s normal!”

“Exactly!” she huffs. “And ‘normal’ is where fashion goes to die! You look like you gave up halfway dressing this morning!”

“Wha—?! That’s not true! I matched the socks today!”

She groans into her hands. “Oh my god. When we go out next time—I swear—I’m going to rebuild your entire wardrobe.”

“Rebuild?! It’s not a warzone!”

“It is now!”

I sigh in defeat. “Fine… do your worst.”

She turns to me with a sly grin, almost too proud.
“Oh, I will.”

[Present Time – Alex’s Narration]

When I think about it now…
She’s the reason I even started caring about what I wear.

Colors, fit, texture... back then, I thought fashion was just about not smelling bad.
But Natalie?

She made it something else.

She turned clothes into confidence.
She taught me that style isn’t about the price tag or trends… it’s about expression. Identity.

Even now—when I pick a jacket or stand in front of the mirror—I still hear her voice.

“Those shoes with that jacket? Really?”

Tch. Damn fashion sorceress.

But maybe that’s why I never argued too hard.
Because in her own stylish, pushy, adorable way—

She helped me find a part of myself I didn’t know I needed.

As we walk down the empty sidewalk, I start to notice something strange.

Natalie’s not walking like normal.

She’s… circling. Watching me. Measuring me?

Like I’m a mannequin on the runway of her imagination.

“Uh… do you need something…?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Mmm… mmm…” she mumbles without breaking eye contact.

“Hey… Nat?”

She doesn’t blink. “Mmm… mmm…”

“…Earth to Natalie?”

She suddenly stops, eyes sparkling. “Huh? Oh! I got it!”

I squint. “Got what? What are you talking about?”

She puts a hand on her hip and throws me a wink.

Wink.

WINK.

—Damn, she’s cute… Why the hell am I thinking that now?! Focus, Alex!

We’re almost at her place now, or at least we should be.

But as I look around…

“…Wait a second,” I mumble, frowning. “This isn’t your neighborhood?”

That’s when she speaks again—like it’s nothing.

“Hey… Alex. Wanna hang around a bit?”

“Huh?”

“There’s a park nearby. Kinda bored.”

I blink. “Wait… what about your parents?”

“Huh—ah. Wait.”

She rushes toward her house, pushing open the front door—

Only to see Mr. Hawk standing just outside.

BGM: Sudden Boss Encounter Theme

“Ah—Hi Alex.”
His deep voice rumbles like thunder behind a calm cloud.

Crap.
His expression is… serious.
That’s the professor face. The “I-know-you-just-did-something” face.

I flinch on instinct and drop into a full-on Japanese dogeza on the sidewalk.

“I’M SORRY!!!!”

Mr. Hawk blinks. “Wha—No, no! Don’t do that! You’re gonna break your knees!”

I look up, confused. “Uh… sorry?”

But he chuckles softly and helps me back up.

“Well… at least you’re friends with Natalie.”

“Huh? Y-Yeah, she’s… she’s alright,” I mutter, almost saying ‘She reminds me of Frederica’—but I swallow that thought.

He nods, then leans in, resting a heavy hand on my shoulder.

“Anyway… she told me this is the first time she’s ever wanted to go out to the park. So… keep an eye on her, alright?”

I straighten up and salute. “Got it, sir!”

His grip tightens slightly.

“Thanks… son.”

“…Huh? What the heck was that for?” I whisper, confused as heck.

Then from behind—

“DAD!! I’m going out now!!”

Natalie’s voice pierces the tension like a sunbeam through clouds.

“Hey—come on, Alex!”

She grabs my arm without warning, dragging me along like we’re escaping a prison.
I glance back and see Mr. Hawk and Ms. Claire watching us from the porch—hands together, smiling softly.

“Aww… Finally,” her mom sighs. “She’s going out.”

Suddenly—

FLASHBACK

A voice echoes in my mind.

“Hey, Frederica!! You know you need sunlight, right?!”

“Dumbass!! I’m not a plant!!”

She huffs, hiding behind her book under the shade of the stairs.

I blink.
The memory vanishes as quickly as it came.

But as Natalie pulls me along, laughing…

I realize something.

It’s been a long time since I felt this—

This warmth.

This pull.

Her presence… it fills the space I thought I wanted to keep empty.

And just like that…

Tears sting my eyes.

We reach the park. Natalie stops and turns toward me.

“Hey! You okay?”

“Huh?” I quickly wipe my face. “Y-Yeah. Just the wind. You ran so fast, it blew some dust into my eyes.”

She narrows her eyes. “Uh-huh. Sure.”

“Here—there’s a water fountain. Go wash your face.”

I obey without question, splashing cold water over myself. But inside… I’m still hiding it.

That ache.
That flash of the past.
That shadow named Frederica.

Moments later—

The park’s quiet. Just a few kids at the far end. The swings squeak softly in the breeze.

Natalie walks up and casually sits on the swing.
Not all-out. Just gently. Light, like she’s testing the feeling.

I sit on the swing next to hers—
Then immediately do what any professional swing master would do:

Push off.

Hard.

I fly into the air, legs stretched, momentum swinging me high.

“WHOOOOO—!!”

“THAT’S DANGEROUS!!” Natalie shouts, standing up like a disapproving parent.
“You’re gonna crack your skull, dumbass!!”

I laugh. “What? I’m built different!”

She groans.

“And this,” she mutters, “is the idiot I fell for…”

“…What?”

“NOTHING!!”

Evening.

The sky is melting into deep shades of orange and lavender. The playground now almost empty, save for the two of us.

We’ve been playing for a while now. Just me and Natalie.

Running. Laughing. Pushing swings.
Sliding down the jungle gym like actual children who forgot the world existed.

No phones. No pressure. No drama.

Just two kids caught in a timeless hour.

But then the shadows grow longer.
The streetlights buzz faintly to life. The wind starts to feel a little colder.

Natalie looks up at the dusky sky and sighs.

“Well… guess it’s about time,” she murmurs, brushing a leaf off her skirt.

I glance around. The park’s quiet. Her house is just down the block. Mine’s maybe a few streets over.

I pick up my bag, slinging it over my shoulder. “Yeah… see ya.”

She sticks out her tongue at me with a grin.

“Pffffft!”

“Eh?! What’s that for?!”

“Nothing!!” she giggles, waving her hand as she turns away.

I shake my head and walk off—grinning without even meaning to.

A few minutes later, outside my apartment building. The evening call to prayer echoes across the sky.

“Oh crap.”

I freeze.

The adzan is already halfway through.
The sky is deep purple now.

I run toward the apartment building and—
Of course.

Standing like a divine judgment statue…

Is Mr. Muzzafar.

Arms crossed. Eyebrows raised.

“Well then, son… Did you forget about Maghrib?”

“Uh—hahaha!! W-whoops?”

Bad move.

He reaches out and pinches my ear. Hard.

“OW OW OW—OKAY OKAY!!! I’M SORRY!!!”

I get the full-on uncle lecture™, complete with Qur’anic wisdom, guilt trips, and the classic “In our time, we pray before the sun even thinks about setting!” speech.

And just as I think I’m safe—

The apartment door opens.

“WHERE WERE YOU?!”

Mom’s voice slices through the corridor like a whip. She’s standing in the doorway, hands on hips, eyes blazing.

I flinch. “Uh… I-I was playing… with a friend…”

She storms over and bonks my forehead with her knuckles.

“Playing?! I was worried sick, young man!”

Behind her, Hana’s standing by the door with wide eyes, clutching her plush rabbit like it’s a hostage in a standoff.

Mr. Muzzafar just laughs. “Alhamdulillah. At least he came back safely.”

Mom sighs, still rubbing her temple. “Go on, get cleaned up and pray before I actually lose my mind.”

“Yes ma’am…”

[Present Time – Alex Narration]

That day…
I think I finally realized something.

Natalie…
She might just be my first real friend.

Sorry, Faiz. Sorry, Marina. You guys are cool, but…

This felt different.

She’s the first person I’ve ever laughed with like that.
Felt time stop with.
Felt… light.

Meanwhile, at Natalie’s house…

[Natalie Narration]

Eeeekkkk—!!

I can’t stop fluttering!! My face is hot! My heart is racing!

I—I actually played with a boy today!!

And not just any boy.

Alex.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!

I roll around on the couch, burying my face in a pillow like it’s going to absorb my entire emotional existence.

Then—

I hear it.

That voice.

“So~ what happened~?”

I freeze.
Mom’s grinning from across the kitchen, arms crossed, clearly ready for tonight’s gossip segment.

“W-What do you mean?” I ask, trying to play it cool. My voice is two octaves higher.

Mom giggles. “So~ tell me~ Did he hold your hand? Did he make you laugh? Did he compliment your fashion? Come on~ spill it~”

I puff my cheeks. “Mooom!! It was just… fun, okay?”

“Just fun?” she raises a brow, unconvinced.

I groan. “Shouldn’t you be worried?”

“Huh? About what?” she shrugs. “It’s Alex. That kid’s more mature than half the adult men I’ve ever met.”

I blush harder.

And from the corner—

Dad speaks up, flipping his newspaper casually.

“Told ya. He’s a good kid.”

“Daaaad!!!”

They’re both in on this!!

I bury myself deeper into the couch.

But even with their teasing…

I can’t stop smiling.

Click.

The door creaks open.

“I’m home~!”
Phylis’ voice rings out with her usual over-the-top dramatic flair, heels clicking like a boss character entering a cutscene.

I don’t move.

But then—

She walks in.
Stops.
Stares.
And…

Sniffs me.

Sniffs me?!

“You smell… weirdly familiar,” she mutters, squinting at me like she’s conducting a chemical analysis. Then she turns to Mom.
“What do you think?”

Mom, arms folded, gives me that knowing nod.

“Yep. She is… finally stepping onto the path of becoming a woman.”

HUH?!?!

I bolt upright. “MOM!!! What even is your definition of ‘becoming a woman’?! We just went to the playground!!”

Phylis saunters over, hands behind her back, head tilted like a predator circling prey.

“So…” she smirks. “Did Alex… kiss you?”

My soul leaves my body.

“WHAT?! NO!! Dumbass!!! Phylis!!! We were just playing! On a swing set!! That’s it!!”

“Really?”
She narrows her eyes.

“Yes, really!”

“Really really?”

“YES!!!” I’m fuming now, face hotter than the sun.

She turns dramatically. “Dad?”

Dad doesn’t even lower his newspaper. “Ask her. I’m not getting involved.”

“DAD!!”

It’s an ambush. I’m under attack. This entire house is out to get me.

But even as I grumble and hide under the nearest pillow, something warm lingers in my chest.

[Natalie’s Inner Monologue]

I know Alex.

Really know him now.

He’s a mix of Lun Bawang and Tausug.
He’s Muslim, but… surprisingly open. Kind. He never judged me. Never made things awkward.

He’s not fussy about food like I am. Not picky. Not controlling.

He just… listens. Teases a little.
And then somehow—
He gets me.

And before I can stop myself—

My voice escapes in a whisper.

“He… is really… sweet.”

Phylis’ eyes widen.
Then her mouth stretches into a devilish grin.

“OOOOOOOOOH~!! Let’s CELEBRATE!!”

She tackles me into a hug so hard I nearly lose oxygen.

“Phylis!!! Get off!!”

Too late.

Mom’s already in the kitchen, apron on, frying pan heating up.

“Finally! My nerdy daughter’s got some life in her!! We’re having a celebration dinner!”

“…MOM!!”

Dining table.

The lights are warm. There’s laughter in the air.

Mom made her cheesy chicken casserole—the one she only brings out for special occasions.
Phylis is still teasing me between bites.
Dad’s pretending to read his newspaper but he’s clearly listening.

It’s chaos. Loud. Embarrassing.

But it’s also…

Nice.

Warm.

I sit there with a plate full of food and a heart I can’t explain.

And I think—

I’m happy.

To be continued…