Chapter 65:
Crazy life at School, but Maybe…
Just another regular Friday… or so I thought.
School life’s been calmer lately. Amin and Mariam are up to their usual antics — him, grinning like a doofus; her, kicking him under the desk every five minutes. Honestly, it's... kind of nice. Feels like how school should have been back then.
Simple. Safe.
But deep inside, there’s something unsettled. Something I’ve been putting off for far too long.
Thursday – The Night Before
I’m in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, watching Mom stir something in the pot. Her back’s turned, but I know she’s listening.
“Hey… Mom.”
“Hm?”
“About the trip tomorrow…”
She pauses. “Kundasang?”
“Yeah. I wanna leave early… before the others.”
She turns slowly. “Alone?”
I nod. “I need to visit… Marina. Before everyone else gets there.”
She doesn’t answer at first. The silence stretches. Then softly:
“…You sure that’s a good idea?”
“I don’t know,” I say. “But I think it’s time I face it.”
She sighs. “Alright. Just promise me you’ll call if anything happens.”
I smile faintly. “I will.”
Friday – After Prayers
Amin jogs up to me after Jumu’ah, slapping my back like we’ve been friends since kindergarten.
“Heard you’re heading to Kundasang?”
“Yeah. You coming?”
He flashes that dumb grin. “Yep! Bringing Mariam along — girl's never seen mountains in her life.”
I chuckle and give him a thumbs-up. “Nice. See you there.”
Back at School
The air is still humid. My bag’s over my shoulder as I pass the school courtyard — and then I hear it.
“Hey, darling~!”
Sylvia’s voice, smooth and honeyed.
I freeze. Oh no.
In a blink, she’s beside me, looping her arm through mine with a radiant smile that hides far too many deadly intentions.
Cue: Trouble.
As if on cue, a shadow drops in from the side — Priscilla lunges and body-checks Sylvia like it's a rugby match, sending her off balance. Instantly, Sylvia recovers and moves in front of me protectively like a trained bodyguard.
Their auras flare.
“My, my… looks like the school’s iron maiden is being territorial again,” Sylvia says sweetly, tilting her head with venom behind her smile.
Priscilla doesn’t miss a beat.
“Fair dinkum, Sylvia! You’re gobsmackingly selfish, ain’t ya? Hogging Alex like he’s limited edition stock! Honestly, you're as helpful as a one-legged roo in a bushfire when it comes to sharing!”
...What?
My soul momentarily leaves my body.
“Not the Aussie slang again…” I mutter.
The girls are inches away from each other now — both sparkling on the outside, murderous on the inside.
And just when I think things couldn’t get worse—
WHAM.
A sharp pain blossoms in my lower half.
I collapse to my knees.
“H-Hana?!”
My little sister, fists on her hips, glaring at me like I just kicked a puppy.
“That’s for big sis Nat!!” she huffs, pouting.
“What did I even do?!”
“That’s for yesterday’s kitchen incident! And for hugging Sylvia too much!!”
I’m writhing on the ground. Sylvia is stunned. Priscilla is laughing. And Amin — from a distance — just waves like nothing’s weird.
Chaos. Always chaos.
Evening falls over the quiet rhythm of home. The sun dips behind the hills, casting long shadows across the wooden floors of our kitchen. I’m sipping hot Milo, lost in thought, when Mom steps into the room, her tone casual… but I already sense something’s up.
“By the way,” she says, drying her hands with a dish towel, “I gave Marina’s mom a call earlier.”
I blink. “Huh? That was fast.”
“She’s excited. She really wants to see you again.”
“Wait—what? I was gonna surprise them…”
“Well, it is Marina’s birthday.”
“…Huh?” I pause, blinking again. “Today?”
She nods. “Nope that day son. I figured you might’ve forgotten.”
I scratch the back of my head, guilt slowly creeping in. “Man… seriously?”
But then she continues, more softly.
“There’s something else too… I didn’t mention it earlier, but…”
I look up.
“…Faiz is buried there too. Right beside Marina.”
I freeze.
“You’re kidding.”
She shakes her head, her eyes gentle. “I know it’s sudden. I guess I just forgot to say it earlier.”
“No,” I mutter, clenching my fist. “That’s on me too. I should’ve asked. Nat… she’ll want to know this.”
“She already does,” Mom says with a mysterious smile. She holds out her phone.
Click.
A voice message plays.
“Alex… please leave a flower for me, okay? For both of them. I couldn’t go, but I’ll be there in spirit. Promise me…”
—Natalie.
Her voice echoes in my chest like the ring of a bell. Soft. Clear. Heavy.
“…Got it,” I whisper. “I’ll make sure they get them.”
Just then, a sudden whoosh of perfume breaks the silence.
“Alex~! Ready for Kundasang?” Sylvia’s voice echoes through the hall like a confident storm. She appears, dressed in layers like we’re going skiing.
She notices my expression and raises an eyebrow. “Hmm? Something wrong?”
I smile — a little too forced. “Ah… no, no. Just… thinking.”
“Really now?” She narrows her eyes, arms crossing beneath her jacket. “You better not be planning to ditch me.”
“Nah,” I say quickly, holding up my hands. “I do want to go with everyone. But I need to head up there a bit earlier. On my own.”
She pouts. “A solo detour?”
“Yeah. Just… something I gotta take care of first.”
Sylvia pauses, studying my face like a hawk. Then she finally exhales.
“Okay. But only if you promise to bring back something nice. Like flowers. Or a dramatic backstory.”
“…Why not both?” I say with a smirk.
She laughs and flicks my forehead. “Deal.”
Later that Night
The moon’s high. The stars blink overhead. I lie awake, staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep.
There’s something about tomorrow that pulls at my gut. Like a whisper in the wind.
I toss. Turn. Finally, I sit up.
“…No point waiting.”
Pre-Dawn – The Next Morning
The air is cold. Mountain mist coils through the streets like faded ghosts.
Mom’s already at the kitchen, sipping tea.
She looks at me, helmet in hand.
“Heading out?”
“Yeah… I wanna reach before sunrise.”
She walks over and gently adjusts my scarf. “Just… be careful, okay? The roads up there are tricky in the fog.”
I nod. “Thanks, Mom.”
My bike rumbles to life, engine purring like a waiting wolf.
One last wave. Then I’m off — slicing through the misty roads of Sabah, the fog rolling past me like spirits.
The mountain roads wind endlessly, twisting like old tree roots—sharp bends, sudden drops, and that ever-present curtain of fog rolling in like a living thing.
Visibility drops. Every few meters, the fog thickens. My headlights pierce only shadows. The roar of my bike is the only sound echoing through the cool silence.
Kundasang.
The moment I see the road sign, something shifts in my chest.
I ease off the throttle, coasting slowly as the view opens up—
—verdant valleys yawning into the distance, mossy trees veiled in mist, and towering above it all...
Mount Kinabalu.
Even shrouded in clouds, its presence dominates the sky, like an ancient guardian watching from the heavens.
I exhale. My breath turns to mist.
"...Finally here."
I pull up to a small roadside rest stop, tires crunching over gravel.
It's cold.
That kind of mountain cold that seeps right through your jeans and bites at your fingers. I zip up my jacket tighter, silently thankful I packed it last minute.
The early morning air is clean. Too clean.
No car fumes. No city dust. Just pine, wild orchids, and morning dew.
This place hasn’t changed…
I park the bike, pull out Mom’s hand-drawn map from my jacket pocket, and squint at the annotations. Her handwriting curls like vines across the paper, circling a small location at the foot of the mountain.
That’s where they rest now.
Faiz.
Marina.
My throat tightens.
I fold the map and tuck it away, hands slightly trembling.
“…I wonder if they’ll forgive me,” I whisper.
As I walk the narrow path through mossy stones and wooden fences, silence greets me. Not the lonely kind. It’s peaceful. As if nature itself knows I’m coming here to speak with the dead.
The fog parts slightly, just enough to show the distant peak of Kinabalu.
It feels like the mountain is listening.
I take a slow breath as I ease the throttle, the road now a narrow path flanked by towering trees and dense undergrowth. The further I go, the thinner the signs of civilization become.
No streetlights.
No honking cars.
No neon signs or coffee chains.
Just the distant chirping of cicadas and the steady hum of my engine cutting through morning mist.
I think I remember… Marina said she had a twin sibling?
That memory flickers in my mind like a dying candle—one of those little things you hear once but never quite forget.
The road keeps twisting, winding deeper into the hills. It feels like I’m leaving the world behind.
And yet…
Up ahead—gleaming steel among green—
A cable tower.
A reminder that even here, amidst the isolation, the world still breathes. The signal still hums. Even in forgotten places, modern life snakes its way through.
I reach the village just as the sun peeks over the mountains.
A small wooden sign greets me, its letters worn and hand-painted in rustic charm:
“Selamat Datang ke Kampung Naru – Rumah Keluarga Marina”
(Welcome to Naru Village – Home of Marina’s Family)
“…This is it.”
I dismount, stretching my legs. The cold mountain breeze brushes my cheek, laced with the scent of pine and freshly tilled soil.
Before me—
A breathtaking sight unfolds.
A quaint farmhouse rests beside a gently flowing river, its banks dressed in wildflowers and smooth stones. A watermill turns lazily, splashing rhythmically as it powers a modest generator nearby—faint sparks glimmering inside the wooden turbine box.
There are rows of cabbage and strawberries lining the fields, vibrant and healthy. Chickens cluck lazily near a coop, and a single dog lies dozing near the porch, lifting its head only slightly when it senses me.
This place—
…it’s like something out of an old storybook. Quiet. Peaceful. Timeless.
And yet…
It hurts to look at it.
Because Marina’s not here.
I walk forward slowly, almost hesitantly.
This place… it’s beautiful, yes. But I didn’t come here for the view.
I came here for the memories that still linger between the trees… in the soil… and in the wind.
A soft breeze greets me as I approach the small wooden gate.
A gentle clink... clink... rings in the air—a simple wooden wind chime sways above the entrance, singing with the wind like a lullaby from the past.
“Assalamualaikum…” I call softly, hands respectfully by my side.
No response.
I try again. “Waalaikumsalam… is anyone home?”
It might be too early... but just as I step back, I spot someone in the distance.
A figure trudging slowly up the gravel path.
She wears a traditional Kadazan blouse with a simple rattan hat shielding her from the soft morning light. Her movements are heavy, each step drawn like a breath long held.
She pauses as she sees me.
Her bag drops.
“…Alex?”
That voice.
That tired, soft-spoken voice. I know it. I remember the way it used to bubble with laughter, full of life, scolding Marina gently when she forgot to clean her room or came home late.
It’s her.
“…Marina’s mom.”
Her eyes shimmer. Wrinkles line her face now, carved by time and sorrow. But when she moves—when she closes the distance and pulls me into a tight embrace—I feel it.
The warmth. The familiarity. The pain.
“It’s been years, son…” she whispers, her voice breaking.
“…Yeah. I’m sorry. I should’ve come sooner.”
“No, no... It’s alright. After everything, we left our old home in KK. We came here—to where her heart always belonged.”
She invites me in.
The house smells of fresh rice, carved wood, and wild ginger. The inside is modest but filled with life—handwoven mats, hand-carved furniture, and sunlight filtering through bamboo windows.
I take a look around.
On a shelf, among old photographs and candles, I notice a sculpture—smooth, wooden, familiar.
I pick it up.
A Pegasus—its wings spread wide, carved from dark mountain wood.
“That’s the gift… remember?” Marina’s mom says gently behind me. “You made that with Faiz and Marina. For Natalie’s birthday.”
My hands tremble slightly as I hold the little horse.
“…Yeah. I remember.”
We step outside together.
The air is crisp and the mountain fog is lifting. The path behind her house leads up a grassy hill—green, peaceful, overlooking the valley.
And there they are.
Two graves. Side by side.
Framed by small white stones and blooming with wildflowers.
I stop.
I don’t move for a moment. My heart thuds once. Then again.
The wind whistles gently across the hill.
“…Marina. Faiz.”
I kneel.
It doesn’t hurt anymore.
Not like before.
Instead... a strange calm settles in me.
The memories come back:
Marina’s wild grin when she dragged me into a prank war with Natalie.
Faiz goofing off in class, getting detention for the both of us.
Their laughter. Their loyalty. Their love.
They were there from the beginning—when everything started. In Arizona. In our madness. In our growing up.
Suddenly, my phone rings.
It’s Natalie.
“Hey Nat…” I answer, keeping my voice low.
“Alex… are you there?” Her voice cracks.
“Yeah… I’m here.”
“I… I really wanted to see them again. Both of them…”
I close my eyes.
“I know.”
“…Did you bring it?”
“Yeah.”
From my bag, I take out a flower. One that shouldn't even exist in this region. Its petals are deep violet, glowing faintly in the morning sun, like moonlight captured in bloom.
The Princess of the Night.
A flower from a dream. A flower Frederica showed me.
A flower Natalie asked for.
Marina’s mother gasps softly when I place it between the graves.
“What a beautiful flower…”
“It’s rare,” I say. “Symbolic. Natalie and I… we call it the flower that reminds us that even beauty must fade.”
And yet…
The memory endures.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
Marina’s mom looks at me, then gently places her hand over my lips.
“Funny,” she says with a light chuckle, tears in her eyes. “‘That Alex and Natalie always overthink things,’ Marina used to say. ‘They worry too much.’” She laughs again, shaking her head. “And now I understand what she meant…”
She takes a deep breath and changes her tone.
“Oh, and by the way… Faiz told Marina before they passed—he said he wanted to marry her one day.”
My eyes widen.
“…Seriously?”
She giggles. “He told me himself! Always blushing whenever Marina looked his way.”
I smile. For real this time.
“Would you like to come in? I’ll make you coffee,” she offers kindly.
“…Can I stay a little longer?”
She nods. “Of course.”
Then suddenly—Natalie’s voice through the speaker.
“Ma’am…?”
“Nat!? Is that you?” she gasps, her eyes lighting up.
“I-It’s me! Sorry I couldn’t be there… but… Happy Birthday to Marina.”
The old woman laughs, tears falling again.
“You always were dramatic, Nat… Marina would’ve loved that.”
“…yeah..thanks…”
We’ve just finished an early breakfast. The warm scent of kampung-style coffee still lingers in the air, mixed with the soft chirping of morning birds. Marina’s mother gently wipes her hands with a dish towel and turns to me with a kind smile.
“I told your mom the others are welcome later today,” she says, “but for now… it’s just you, huh?”
“Yeah,” I nod. “I needed to come early… just to see her. Alone.”
She tilts her head. “You’ve grown, Alex. But in your eyes, I still see that same boy from Arizona… the one who kept following Marina around like a duckling.”
I chuckle. “Guess I never really stopped following her, huh…”
Her smile fades for a moment, replaced by a thoughtful quiet.
“…Can I ask you something?” I say after a pause. “Would it be alright if I visit Marina’s room?”
“Huh? Oh—sure. It's all there… we never changed it much. It’s just a bit dusty, that’s all. Mostly used for storage now, but…” She exhales. “We couldn’t bring ourselves to take it apart.”
She leads me down the narrow hallway. I reach the door. Just seeing the old, faded sticker of a rollerblade on it makes my chest tighten.
“Thanks,” I say.
“Take your time,” she replies softly. “I’ll make tea.”
I enter quietly. The light filters in through a bamboo-weaved curtain, creating soft stripes on the wooden floor. There are boxes stacked neatly in the corners. I scan the room until something catches my eye—
a cardboard box marked “Marina – Private” written in her handwriting.
I kneel down and lift the lid.
Dust floats up like tiny memories in the sunlight.
Inside… a treasure chest of the past.
Photos, dried flowers, scribbled notes, a faded friendship bracelet, and then—
A scrapbook album with our names on it.
“To Alex, Natalie, Faiz, Luna… let’s never forget our crazy life at school.”
I flip through it slowly.
Rollerblade shots.
That one time Faiz wore a tutu on a dare.
Natalie making bunny ears behind my head.
A smile escapes me before I even realize it.
I don’t cry.
Not today.
Instead, I stand and walk over to the shelf.
There it is.
Her old boombox.
The exact same one we used when we practiced skating tricks on the school driveway back in Arizona. The sticker “KATE BUSH RULES!” still taped on the side.
I press the button.
It clicks, a slight mechanical whirr… and then—
“Running Up That Hill” by Kate Bush fills the room.
The old song Marina always blasted way too loud, her anthem.
Annoying, repetitive…
But right now?
It feels like she’s here again.
“Happy Birthday, Marina,” I whisper. “We didn’t forget you… we never will.”
Just then, my phone vibrates.
A message from Natalie.
Nat:
“Did you find it?”
“Give her a smile for me.”
“And tell Faiz… I still hate that prank he pulled with the soy sauce. 🥲❤️”
I grin.
“Yeah,” I whisper to myself. “I’ll tell them everything.”
I cradle the old boombox under one arm as I make my way up the grassy hill. The breeze is crisp, swirling with the morning fog that still clings to the valley. My breath puffs out like little ghosts.
Technically, I know… bringing music to a Muslim graveyard isn’t exactly something encouraged.
But just this once…
Just once…
I want to hold onto the last bit of warmth their memory gave me. Their bodies may rest here, but these little moments, this music—that’s what keeps them alive in our hearts.
I set the boombox down gently beside the twin gravestones. The engraved names stare back at me in silence:
Marina Binti Sainuddin
Faiz Bin Mohammad Khairi
I press play.
A soft static flickers… then the familiar voice of Kate Bush fills the cold air:
“And if I only could, I’d make a deal with God…”
I sit cross-legged between them, lowering the volume out of respect.
Then I open my Quran and begin reciting Surah Yasin in a low, even voice. The air feels still—listening.
As I reach the final verse, I pour the rose water Marina’s mom gave me over their graves. The petals scatter gently, like blessings in the wind. I pull out a cloth and clear away the small weeds that had grown over the past months.
Then… I talk.
Like old times.
“Yo… Faiz. Marina. It’s been a while.”
My voice cracks a little, but I force a grin. “I’m here. And… yeah, I brought the music.”
From the speaker in my pocket, Natalie’s voice chimes in.
“That music… it’s something I’ll never forget.”
I snort. “Still sounds repetitive though.”
“I heard that!”
Laughter from the other end.
Then another voice—faint in the background, probably Mr. Hawk.
“Hey Nat, Mariam’s calling you!”
“Tell her I’m busy, Dad! I’m talking to Alex right now!”
I smile and lean forward, my hand brushing the gravestone. “See? Nothing’s changed. Nat’s still bossing everyone around.”
Then I hear her voice again… softer this time.
“…Hey, Marina. I came back…”
She’s crying.
And it feels like all of us are sitting under the same sky again.
Talking like we used to.
Like the past never left.
Sylvia Side – Later That Morning, Arrival at Marina’s Village
The pickup truck bumps along the dirt road, winding through mist and greenery. I’m in the back with Maya, Sam and Hana, while Alex’s mom drives up front with Steward. The mountains stretch around us like ancient guardians.
“This is it,” Alex’s mom announces gently. “We’re here.”
“Yaaay!!” Hana bounces in her seat, hands on the window.
“Hey Hana?” she asks softly.
“Yeah?” she chirps, still looking out the window.
“…Do you remember Marina?”
Hana tilts her head. “Huh… I do… but… I can’t remember her face…”
Alex’s mom smiles faintly. “You’ll see her again. And big brother Faiz, too.”
Suddenly Hana’s eyes light up.
“Wait—!! I remember!! Goofy guy who always jumped around like a monkey!! And big sis Marina who made funny faces at me! We used to play hide and seek with big sis Nat!!”
Alex’s mom chuckles. “Yep… that’s them.”
She slows the truck. “This is her home.”
I hop off the back and stretch. Priscilla pulls up beside us on her bike, and behind her Mariam and Amin ride in tandem, looking amazed.
“Woah! This place is incredible!” Mariam exclaims, spinning around.
“Such a beautiful spot…” Amin agrees.
The house sits nestled in a peaceful valley, surrounded by terraces of vegetable farms and a flowing creek. An old watermill turns steadily near the edge of the property.
A single wind chime hangs from the roof’s corner, whispering softly in the breeze.
I spot Alex’s bike nearby.
He’s already here.
Then, standing by the door, we see her—
An elderly woman in a light brown baju kurung, her hair tied in a neat bun.
She carries herself with quiet dignity, and though the years have marked her face, her eyes are gentle.
That must be… Marina’s mother.
As we’re gathering ourselves, a pair of voices call out behind us.
“Uh… excuse me, who are you?”
We turn around to see two boys—identical twins, around Hana’s age—dressed in school uniforms with bags slung over their shoulders.
They blink at us curiously.
Alex’s mom smiles. “You must be Marina’s brothers…”
They nod in sync. “Yeah. Who are you?”
I smile and bow slightly.
“…Friends of your sister.”
The two boys—the twins—stare at us with a glint in their eyes that speaks of recognition.
Then one of them steps forward and softly greets Alex’s mother.
“Hi, Puan Mas…”
Both of them bow respectfully and gently kiss her hand.
A smile flickers on her lips. “Masdin, Majid… You’ve grown.”
The more serious twin—Masdin—asks quickly, “Is big brother Alex here?”
“Yes,” Mother replies gently.
Before anyone else can say anything, he walks ahead, fists clenched by his sides, tension leaking from every step.
The other twin, Majid, tries to hold him back, panic in his voice.
“Hey! Just talk, okay!? It’s not his fault! We already went through this!!”
I glance at Mother. “What… was that all about?”
Marina’s mother simply sighs and shakes her head.
Majid turns toward us and scratches his head, clearly embarrassed.
“I’m Majid, and that was my older-by-one-minute brother, Masdin. He’s a little… rough around the edges. Just like our big sister used to be.”
“She was exactly like him,” Mother adds with a sad smile.
Majid sighs, “Anyway, come in… We’ll get tea started.”
As we step inside the home, I glance toward Mariam and Amin, both looking unusually quiet.
“Where’s Alex?” Mariam asks curiously.
Marina’s mother—still looking out the window—answers calmly.
“…He’s at the grave. Of my daughter… and future son-in-law.”
The room stills.
“…Grave?” Amin repeats.
“What happened?” Mariam asks, voice low.
Even Priscilla freezes. Her usual fiery sarcasm falters.
“Stone the bloody crows,” she mutters, eyes wide. “This just turned real heavy, real quick…”
Mother speaks gently, her voice almost carried by the breeze that passes through the window.
“This place… is where Alex and Natalie left a piece of their heart. With Marina… and Faiz.”
Mariam stiffens.
She glances down. “Why… Why didn’t Nat ever tell me this…?”
“It’s something the three of them wanted to keep… between themselves,” Mother says. “A burden only they understood.”
But Mariam’s already turned. Without warning, she dashes outside.
“Mariam!! Wait—!!” Amin runs after her.
We all scramble to follow them—through the field, past the mill, and up the winding trail that leads to the hilltop.
The air grows colder. The wind howls gently as we reach the clearing near the graves.
And then—
SMACK!!
We stop in shock.
Masdin’s fist connects square with Alex’s face.
Alex doesn't even flinch.
“What the hell—?!” I start to charge in, but Mariam throws her arm across my chest, stopping me.
“Wait!! Don’t interfere!!” she shouts.
Majid groans, palm to his face. “Tch—jeez! Told him not to do that…”
Masdin’s shout erupts like a thunderclap—
“IT’S YOUR FAULT!!!”
His voice cracks. His body shakes.
“WHY!? WHY DIDN’T YOU SAVE HER?! AND BIG BROTHER FAIZ!!!!”
He breaks into sobs.
Then he bolts—running down the path, away from all of us.
Majid rushes to Alex and bows quickly.
“I’m sorry… he’s just… ever since he found out the truth from mom, he’s been like that… Please, don’t hate him…”
Alex wipes the blood from his lip, not saying a word.
He just… stares at the grave, silent.
But I see it—the way his fists tremble on his knees.
The weight of guilt.
Of pain he never once pushed onto anyone else.
Mariam walks over and sits beside him.
“Alex…”
But he doesn’t speak.
We stand in silence—watching the wind pass through the wildflowers growing on the hill.
As if the mountain itself is mourning with us.
Alex – Side
What a day.
Grave visit? ✔️
Unexpected punch to the face from a fifth grader? ✔️
Emotional whiplash? Yeah, double ✔️.
My cheek still stings, and the mountain wind doesn’t help. Kundasang might be known for its beauty, but right now, all I feel is the sharp bite of regret—mixed with a growing bruise on my face.
Nat’s voice crackles softly through the speaker on my phone. She’s quiet for a moment, like she’s been holding her breath this whole time.
“Was that her brother…?”
“Yeah… Masdin,” I answer, sighing. “Still dealing with it. You could see it in his eyes—he's holding everything in, just like she used to.”
“If I were there… I know what I’d say to him.”
“Yeah… but give him time. Maybe that’s what’s frustrating him most—he doesn’t know who to blame, and I just happened to be the guy standing there.”
A short silence.
“Don't rush it, okay?” Nat’s tone softens. “Let him come to terms with it. It’s not your burden to fix everything alone.”
“…Yeah.” I smile faintly. “I know.”
Suddenly, footsteps. Familiar voices. I glance behind me just as Mariam, Amin, and the others arrive, a trail of dust behind them.
Mariam marches up like she owns the mountain, hands on her hips and suspicion in her eyes.
“What’s going on?” she asks sharply, eyeing my bruised face. “Some kid just ran past us shouting. Looked like he wanted to murder a tree.”
I keep the phone on speaker.
“Uh-oh,” Nat whispers. “Mariam’s in interrogator mode. Good luck.”
“Gee, thanks for the moral support,” I mutter and tap the phone to end the call before Mariam catches on.
“I’ll explain later,” I say calmly. “It’s… old stuff. Things you don’t need to worry about.”
Mariam crosses her arms. “With a punch to the face involved?”
I grin. “Yeah. Like you’ve never done that before.”
Her eyes narrow. “Huh?”
“You really don’t remember?” I lean forward slightly. “Arizona. Nineteen ninety-five. Music and Fashion Festival? There was a random dance battle in the middle of the hall.”
Mariam blinks. “Wait… what?”
“You jumped in and challenged me. Said I looked like a ‘cheap Michael Jackson ripoff.’ You even said, and I quote, ‘I might be small, but I’ll crush your pride like a bug.’ Then—boom.” I gesture toward my groin. “Kick. To. The. Balls.”
Her jaw drops.
“…Oh my God. That was you?!”
I smirk. “Yep. The very same ‘prick’ you sent crawling to the first-aid tent.”
Mariam covers her face in horror. “I thought I hallucinated that… I was, like, ten!”
“Yeah, and your kicks were legendary. Still have the trauma lodged somewhere in my spine.”
Amin bursts out laughing, Priscilla lets out a dramatic “Bloody hell, that’s gold!” and even Hana peeks around the adults, giggling.
Mariam’s face turns red. “I was just a kid!”
“You still haven’t changed much.” I chuckle. “Still dramatic. Still unpredictable. Still dangerous when provoked.”
She pouts, looking away. “Tch. I said I was sorry… eventually.”
“That you did.”
I glance back at the grave behind me. The sun’s rising higher, casting a golden glow over the hills, the breeze gently moving the flower petals we placed earlier. The world’s still turning—even when we wish it would pause.
But today, something feels different.
Today, I’m not carrying this alone.
Mariam stands still, eyes on the grave.
“Marina... Faiz...” Her voice trails off, caught between confusion and disbelief. “This sounds cliché but… wait—they died when they were only ten?”
I nod, quietly. “Yeah… something like that.”
She turns to me. “What… did you do?”
I take a breath, feeling the chill in the breeze wrap around my neck. “It’s a long story. I’ll explain later. Let’s head back.”
“That song, though,” she adds as we walk, the fading echo of Running Up That Hill playing from the grave site boombox. “Kinda cool.”
“Her favourite. Marina’s. Nat’s too.”
“Yeah! I remember now! She used to play this over and over—kind of repetitive, but catchy.”
We walk in silence for a moment until we reach the house again. Sylvia and Priscilla walk beside me, their faces unusually quiet.
Majid greets me at the porch, rubbing the back of his head. “Thanks for coming.”
“No stress, bro,” I say, offering a quick fist bump. “You doing okay?”
“Uh… yeah. Everything’s fine here.”
“Wait, I thought it was the weekend. What’s with the school stuff?”
“Oh, we’ve got club meetings. Yeah, weird timing, I know.”
We all gather on the porch. Marina’s mom steps out, smiling gently, holding a cold compress in her hand.
“Well, that’s my son,” she chuckles softly. “Still doing the crazy things.”
I nod, pressing the ice pack against my sore cheek. “It’s fine. I used to be worse.”
Mariam looks at me, her tone softer. “Alex… do you wanna talk about it?”
Marina’s mom gives me a nod. “It’s okay. You can tell them, son.”
So I tell them.
I tell them about what happened five years ago. About how Nat and I met. How Faiz and Marina were the first to reach out to us—two misfits in Arizona with scars no one else could see.
How Christmas changed everything.
How Marina was kidnapped, and Faiz risked everything to save her.
How I lost control… how we fought to bring her back… and how, in her final moments, she tied mine and Nat’s hands together… literally.
“That day,” I say, my voice a whisper, “Marina gave us her blessing. That we were meant to be together.”
Mariam stares at the floor. “That stupid Nat… she never told me any of this…”
Sylvia walks closer and places a hand on my shoulder. Her voice is soft, uncharacteristically serious.
“Fair dinkum, sweetheart… My heart’s goin’ out to ya. Losin’ people ya love’s the worst feelin’ in the world. You’re not alone, babe. I’m here if ya need a shoulder to lean on.”
I smile weakly. “Thanks.”
“But yeah…” I add, voice low, “Nat and I promised—never again. Never again will we let something like this happen. Still… it feels like I’m always dancing around death.”
What I don’t tell them… is that I came here on Nat’s request.
I glance toward Marina’s mom. “Nat said… Marina had something she wanted to give her. Before she died.”
Her face lights up. “Oh! You mean the box? It’s in the room you were in earlier. Locked though. We never found the key. Bit of an odd one, that Marina. Said she bought it from an antique shop for a ‘special promise’.”
“Of course she did…” I sigh. “That’s so her.”
Mariam frowns. “Box? What box?”
“No idea,” I say. “Something only Nat and Marina knew about. A secret between them.”
I head inside the house again, toward the room.
But then—someone blocks the doorway.
It’s Masdin.
Tears already rolling down his cheeks.
“Why…?” he chokes. “Why didn’t you save them…?”
I freeze.
“I didn’t want to say it… I didn’t want to blame you…” His fists shake. “But SAY IT!! Just SAY IT!!!”
“Why do I need to?” I reply quietly.
“BECAUSE I NEED TO HEAR IT!!” His scream echoes through the hallway.
“MASDIN!!! THAT’S ENOUGH!!!” his mom yells from behind, panicked.
I raise a hand, stopping her gently. “It’s okay. He needs this.”
I let him hit me. Over and over. I don't flinch. I let the anger drain out of his fists.
Then—
SMACK!
I slap him across the face.
He stumbles, frozen. Not out of pain—out of shock.
“If Marina was here,” I whisper, “she’d have smacked some sense into you too.”
His lip trembles. “Why… why did they have to go like that…?”
I kneel down and place a hand on his shoulder.
“Did you ever see their faces… when they died?”
He doesn’t answer.
“They were smiling, Masdin… both of them. I’ll never forget that. That’s why… I didn’t cry. Because I knew… they found peace.”
A voice crackles through my phone speaker.
“Mas… it’s me. Nat.”
He looks up, eyes wide.
“You were family to her. Just like Alex… just like me. We’re still here. We’re still holding her close.”
“Big sis…” he sobs. “You and big brother… were her world… WAAAAAAAH!!!”
I let him cry in my arms.
From behind, Marina’s mom walks forward, placing her hand on my back.
“Thank you, son… At least now, my boy’s finally accepted it.”
“Thanks, Big Bro,” Majid says, eyes glistening.
Later, I return to the room.
And there it is.
A wooden puzzle box. Ornate. Locked. Familiar.
“Oh come on…” I mutter. “Why the heck do you two always get obsessed with weird stuff like this?”
“Because we LOVE that kind of stuff, dumbass!!” Nat’s voice snaps through the phone.
I facepalm. “Should’ve known you’d still be listening.”
Sylvia peers over my shoulder. “It’s… beautiful. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Mariam squints. “Yep, that’s Nat’s taste all right. Over-the-top, dramatic, and full of secrets.”
“Hey, that’s Da Vinci’s Lockbox,” Nat chimes. “Me, Marina, and Luna found it in a dusty corner of an antique shop. It was one dollar. A whole buck!”
“And I told you it was a waste of time,” I grumble.
“You did. Loudly. But guess who’s trying to open it now~?”
“…Yeah yeah, don’t rub it in.”
Inside the wooden farmhouse, we all gather around the cryptic box like characters out of a fantasy story who just stumbled upon a legendary chest.
Natalie’s still on speaker, voice calm but mischievous.
“Alright, Alex. Just do exactly as I say. This is the only way to open it. Marina made sure even a CIA codebreaker would cry trying.”
“Noted…” I crack my knuckles. “Let’s do this, partner.”
“Turn the top dial two times clockwise.”
“Got it.”
“Then, turn the side ring five times to the left, and then two times to the right. Carefully.”
Click. The gears inside shift like an ancient lock groaning awake after centuries.
Mariam tilts her head, squinting. “That… looks ridiculously complicated.”
Natalie snorts through the phone.
“She booby-trapped it with a vinegar-based acid. If we mess up—boom—all gone.”
💀💀💀
Everyone: “EEEHHHHH?!?”
Even Marina’s mom facepalms dramatically. “Ya Allah… Marina. You really made it this hard? No wonder Faiz nearly went bonkers with you!”
I raise an eyebrow. “She actually armed this thing?”
“Yep,” Nat replies too casually. “Next: turn it ten times to the right, then four times to the left, and finally one more to the right.”
I nod. “Done.”
Click.
A metallic snap rings out like thunder in the silent room. The first seal unlocks, a faint wisp of old paper scent escaping as the lid shifts upward just a hair.
“Good,” Nat says. “Now... second lock.”
“THERE’S MORE?!” Mariam and Priscilla yell in unison.
Sylvia just chuckles. “Pfft. I could already tell it was gonna be layered. I mean, look at it. This is clearly something that meant not to be open…”
I sigh and shake my head. “I expected this. Marina was basically the Da Vinci of secret-keeping.”
Mariam glares at the box. “What even is this? It’s like a cursed chest”
Priscilla squints. "Blimey, girl! You're reckonin' we'll summon some old spirit if we muck it up? That's a bit of a worry, ain't it? Let's tread carefully, love, or we might be in for a right old fright."
Natalie answers with a laugh.
“You want to know how bad it got? Back in Arizona, even I gave up halfway once. I told Marina if she died before telling me the steps, I’d haunt her and this box.”
I stare at the thing again—ornate wood, carved with symbols from multiple languages, like Latin, Kadazan-Dusun, and Arabic calligraphy… even old musical notations.
“…Okay, now I’m actually curious,” I murmur, touching the next dial.
“Alex,” Nat’s voice softens, “Marina said once… if this box is ever opened, it means the world has changed enough for the truth to be seen.”
Mariam leans in, suddenly serious. “Truth?”
“Yeah,” I whisper. “Something… between Nat and Marina. Something they wanted to share, but only when the time was right.”
Marina’s mom steps closer, voice tinged with emotion. “She said… this box holds the final promise between her and Nat.”
Everyone goes silent.
Even the wind outside pauses.
“You ready for the next sequence?” Natalie’s voice trembles slightly.
I nod, resting my fingers on the next dial. “Let’s finish this.”
To be continued…
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