Some wounds are not meant to be healed. Some friendships are not meant to be understood.
"Huh? You're the speaker now?"
Tio took his time to reply—strange. He used to be quick-witted, effortlessly smooth. But ever since he graduated from the Harvard Kennedy School, maybe he'd become someone unreachable. Busy. Important. Even after his talk earlier this afternoon, he didn't say a single word to me. He walked away briskly, like the next thing on his schedule mattered more than anyone in the room.
That was three hours ago.
Since then, Rini had done nothing but rave about Tio. How cool he was, how handsome, how she wanted to meet him, work with him, pray for divine coincidence to collide their paths. She'd been firing questions at me like a machine gun—questions I answered with the same old smile. Over. And over. And over again.
"So who is Tio, really?" she asked again now, flopped on a hotel bed, face squished against a pillow like a child begging for secrets.
It was almost maghrib. A break session for all participants. The next event would start at 7:30 p.m. Rini and I lay on our backs, side by side, paralyzed by laziness. But while Rini wrestled with her curiosity, I wrestled with my phone. I wasn't sure which reply I was waiting for—Tio's, or maybe Arga's.
"Rin, don't you ever get tired of talking about Tio and asking the same thing?"
"Don't you get tired of not answering it?" Rini slid from her bed to mine, curling up like a needy kitten, eyes gleaming.
I never liked talking about the past. The last time I told her about Arga, it was because she sulked, thinking I didn't trust her. That story only came out because I lost a truth-or-dare challenge. Just thinking about the past was hard enough—telling it out loud made the memories crawl back stronger.
And talking about Arga and Tio meant talking about Ama.
And that still hurt.
I never told anyone, but even after all this time, I hadn't made peace with it. With her. With myself. The memories of Ama tore something inside me—was it longing? Was it rage toward fate? I couldn't name the feeling. I just knew it burned. I wanted to remember only the beautiful parts, but my brain had a mind of its own. It refused to pick and choose.
"Tell me, please," Rini's voice turned sugary, begging now, her eyes wide.
"Oh, stop," I said, laughing as I pushed her off the bed with a pillow.
"Nisa, you always do this." She crawled back to her side with a pout, sulking like a kid denied candy.
Tough, no-nonsense Rini acting clingy was too funny. I couldn't help but smile.
"Tio is…" I hesitated.
"Tio what?"
"Ahem. I'm thirsty."
"Oh my God. If you don't tell me after I bring you a drink, I swear—" She hurled a bottle of mineral water at me like a dramatic sister.
I sipped slowly, savoring her frustration.
"You snapped in under two minutes," I teased.
"You're so annoying!"
"Hahaha," I laughed as I capped the bottle. "Tio is my best friend."
"What?! No way! That's not possible!"
"Why not?" I asked, genuinely startled by her reaction.
"How long have you two been best friends?"
"Six years, I think."
"Nooooo!"
"What is it now?" I asked, laughing nervously.
"There's no such thing as brother-sister friendship. No big bro-little sis bond. No guy-girl besties. That's all a myth. If both don't fall for each other, one of them definitely has feelings they're hiding."
"Well, Tio and I are really just friends."
"Hm. Too good to be true," she muttered. "But really?"
"Really. Calm down."
"Alhamdulillah," she breathed out, visibly relieved. "Now go on!"
But how do you explain a bond that used to feel like home?And why is it that even now, I can't tell if I lost a best friend—or a chance at something more?