When was the last time I hit bottom like this? Sarah wondered, still chewing on the sugar-coated donut in her mouth.
Ah, back then, when she broke up with Radit—that girl before Rifat. And as far as Sarah remembers, after dating Rifat, she never ate like a pig again.
She's an emotional eater, just so you know. Sarah believes half her problems are solved if she can satisfy her taste buds and stomach with sweets. Candy, chocolate, even the five-hundred-dollar snacks usually sold at food stalls—anything goes. And indeed, once full and satisfied, her mood improves slightly.
So, the next day, after Rifat left, like a zombie, her appetite completely overpowered her common sense and made her come to this J.Co. She ordered a dozen donuts in various flavors, a cup of hot coffee, and a large froyo. The girl deliberately sat farthest from the entrance so that no one would stare at her in disgust or pity when they saw her losing control, devouring the donuts in the caramel-colored carton. Fifteen minutes of sitting there, five donuts had disappeared from the box and moved into Sarah's digestive tract. And she was still hungry.
Sarah was already on her sixth donut when her best friend came over and hurriedly called out, "SARAH, drop the donut!"
Several customers turned their heads in their direction—another reason that made Sarah reflexively pull her hand away from the delicious donuts topped with sugar, sprinkles, and whipped cream. Anye had come because of the girl's invitation. Earlier, while in the taxi on the way here, she had exchanged a few text messages with Anye. More precisely, she had sent a provocative message that any friend would have immediately rushed to her.
I'd rather just die, Nye.
In less than ten seconds, Anye immediately replied.
What's wrong, Sar? Don't talk about death like that. What if he really dies?
Sarah's fingers nimbly typed a new message:
It's actually good. So I have a reason not to deal with my current problems.
Rifat, cough, CHEATING!
° WHAT??? Where are you now?! I'll go there and find you.
On the way to J.Co Citos.
Sippo.
Don't go anywhere-and DON'T THINK ANY WEIRD THINGS. Anyway, just wait for me there.
He lifted his head, looking back at Anye with pleading eyes. But the girl remained firm in her decision. "No more donuts for you. Eating a lot won't erase the fact that your boyfriend is cheating on you."
Rifat... cheating-CRUEL!
The long confession that night was so high it turned out
not to say break up, but to confess the sins she committed a few days ago. Sarah closed her eyes which suddenly felt hot. She was not surprised that a moment later tears began to wet her eyelashes, gradually feeling heavy and finally dripping down her cheeks. Sarah sobbed, covering her face which was definitely ruined because then she remembered, the mascara she used that afternoon was not waterproof. And, look, when the girl wiped the tears on her cheeks with a clean tissue that Anye held out to her, she could see the wet and dirty stains on the surface of the white tissue paper.
Anye let her friend cry to her heart's content. She'd thought about ordering something, but decided against it when she realized there was a jar of froyo in front of her. Shamelessly, her maroon-napkin-covered fingers reached for the plastic spoon that was stuck in the froyo that towered in her cup like a small mountain. She scooped up the top of the froyo, followed by pieces of lychee. Anye made sure Sarah was still crying as she shoveled the contents of the spoon into her mouth. Yum, yum.
"I know, being betrayed makes your feelings all messed up like this—and so sorry to hear that, by the way—" Anye said while still chewing, "but, I and the entire universe know you're not the type of person who gives up easily. Rifat did cheat—"
"-who, by the way, is cheating on us with our yoga instructor." Anye stared at her in horror, as if to say, seriously?! Sarah nodded, reassured.
"That slut...!"
Sarah was fully aware that her friend was cursing the yoga instructor to cheer her up. But she—and perhaps Anye secretly thought the same thing—knew that the instructor, Alya, was far from a slut. On the contrary, she was super, super nice. Anye and she had met Alya when they signed up for a couples yoga class. Anye intended to drag her Irish boyfriend to the class, and Sarah would bring Rifat.
She remembered what her boyfriend had said at the time. "I'd rather play soccer or basketball, Sar, than do those kinds of body-stretching exercises."
But Sarah always knew how to make sure Rifat would comply. She leaned close to his ear and whispered, "If you come with me, I promise I'll fully participate in trying out sex position number 9 in this month's Mascara magazine article."
Rifat's eyes widened. He remembered exactly what position Sarah was referring to. In fact, he'd been the one who'd begged Sarah to try it, saying it was for variety, but she'd flatly rejected him because it was so kinky and complicated, with all the leg-lifting and unnatural body positions.
"You're not lying, are you?"
Sarah shook her head and gave him a reassuring look. "Unless you change your mind and don't want it anymore, then I can a-"
"Deal!" The guy exclaimed as he held out his hand.
That's it. Like a buffalo whose nose was poked, the following Saturday, Rifat was by Sarah's side during the couple yoga session. And on that day, for the first time, Rifat got to know Alya.
Sarah closed her eyes, trying to remember if there were any signs of attraction between the two of them.
Ugh.
As far as she knew, there wasn't any. Alya wasn't the type to touch. If there was any, it was mostly to adjust yoga positions to follow her instructions. Even after class, Sarah didn't see Alya suddenly flirting, let alone flirting with her boyfriend. So, it didn't make sense when Rifat admitted he'd slept with her.
When did it happen? "I met Alya at a wine tasting event last week." He remembered the event. He had even planned to attend it with Rifat, but Sarah couldn't make it due to a meeting at the production house. So, Rifat went solo. Unexpectedly, it turned out—
"So, you just went straight to bed with her?" Rifat shook his head. "Alya invited us bar hopping, and it continued until midnight." Sarah didn't notice because she was probably already fast asleep by the time Rifat got back to the apartment. "Then I offered to drive her home, and—"
I don't want to hear any more. Sarah burst into tears and their conversation ended abruptly.
"That girl is really...," Anye growled angrily after hearing Sarah's story. "She's supposed to teach us Kundalini or whatever—not playing 'horse' with your boyfriend's disco stick!"
Sarah was confused. "What?"
"Pardon my Lady Gaga reference. But you know what I mean."
Disco stick.... AH! That's what it meant, hmmmpf. Sarah nodded.
Anye is now no longer shy about eating Sarah's froyo.
While still chewing the cud, the girl then asked, "So, you've broken up with Rifat."
Silence.
Actually, that was the part he 'forgot' to tell Anye. After that night's confession—and subsequent tearful exchange—Sarah was still Rifat's girlfriend. He said he needed a second chance, but she didn't have to break up with him right away. "I have to go to Manado tomorrow for a shoot," he said, "and I'll be there for over a week. I think that's enough time for me to...
You decide what the future of our relationship will be like. And I believe whatever you decide will be for the best."
Anye snorted in disgust. "Did he seriously say that?"
Sara nodded.
"Instead of being a TV cameraman, he should have changed his profession to become a salesman. He has such a sly mouth..."
Sarah took a deep breath and tried not to cry anymore. Take a deep breath, exhale. Take another breath, exhale. The girl felt better now. But the problem in her head still hadn't gone away.
"So, what should I do, Nye?"
"If I were you..., I would call now to tell you that starting today, neither of us will ever want to attend Alya's yoga class again. If necessary, tell her the truth, about her hanging out with your boyfriend." The girl stared at Sarah for a while, then continued, "And about your boyfriend..., the only solution is to break up with him and kick him out of your apartment."
The cold sweat on his neck was blown by the air conditioning that was actually installed directly above his head, making his body jerk in surprise. But that wasn't what made his entire body tremble. The "break up with her" and "kick her out of the apartment" part Anye suggested sounded, err, c-cruel, didn't it?
"Y-you think it's easy to do that?"
"Which one is difficult?" Anye asked curtly. "If you really can't do that, I'll take care of our exit from that girl's yoga class myself. I also don't want to see her brain-"
"No. I don't give a fuck-pardon my French-about the class." Sarah ketularan ber-pardon-pardon ria kayak Anye. "Maksud gue..., Rifat."
"W-what do you mean?"
Sarah swallowed hard. Dare to bet the contents of his account, his best friend wouldn't be happy if he said, "Ng, I mean..., throw him out of the apartment." No signs of anger yet, the girl thought, then continued, "To be honest, ng, g-I can't bear it."
"Omaigat! You're what Sassy Gay Friend is talking about." Anye's eyes flashed with anger, and it seemed like the three-dimensional nail art nails that were tapping on the surface of the table were already itching to scratch Sarah because of the cake. "You are a classic case of stupid bitch. GAH!"
Any sane girl who was called a 'stupid bitch' would definitely be offended. "Hey, just say a little," protested Sarah, even though she knew Anye didn't really mean to hurt her. Plus, he 'knows' the Sassy Gay Friend that Anye mentioned. The witty character he found while browsing for fun on YouTube is really good at giving relationship advice.
"But you are, Babe. THE stupid bitch." But left.
Behind his stinging words, he said it in a softer voice than before. "Rifat clearly feels he has the upper hand because you haven't reacted at all to his affair. He knows you too well, and that's the danger. He was even sure you would forgive him long before he admitted his sin."
"Who said I forgive di-"
"But you still let Rifat live in your apartment. An apartment that, I need to remind you, you bought with your own money. I also have to remind you about this: he's a freeloader. He's lived in your apartment for two years without paying for anything. Even filling the refrigerator has to be bought with your money. And now he's not just a freeloader, Sarah Baby." The girl shook her head. "He's a freeloader who cheated on us with our yoga instructor. The Dirty Bird that I swore would get the lion king—oops, pardon my Christmas wish, Dear."
Anye's eyes narrowed as she leaned closer to Sarah, and said, "We are SOOOO gonna kick him out today!"
"Home sweet home," was the first thing that came out of Sarah's mouth after opening the door to her apartment for the two of them. And that statement was no exaggeration
It's not overdone at all. When she's working on a script, Sarah spends most of her time here. Therefore, the interior of each room is designed to her taste.
The walls of her apartment are covered in regency-patterned wallpaper, which perfectly complements the classic-style table lamps placed in various spots in the living room. A built-in bookshelf near the window displays her collection of books and favorite CDs. A plasma TV hangs on the other side of the room, with chairs and a sofa facing it.
Sarah insisted that, even though it wasn't the dominant element, she still wanted her living room filled with blue—her favorite color. That's why the sofa in the center of the room was there. It's goddamn expensive, but worth every penny.
It was to the sofa that her steps were directed. She carelessly dropped the decorative pillows onto the floor. She needed as much space as possible for her emotionally exhausted body—tsah!
A moment later, Sarah immediately lay down, stretched out, and then murmured with relief. Using the tips of her toes, she took off her flat shoes. Sarah's hands groped for the side table, searching for the AC remote. Without changing her position on the sofa, she turned on the AC in the living room, setting it to its coldest setting yet. All that was missing now was Alex's DVD.
Pettyfer (like 'Beastly' and 'I Am Number Four' because Alex often appears half-naked and oh, damn hot, Gurl!) and microwave popcorn. Oh shit, reminds me of last night's chaotic movie night...
"You're feeling lazy again," Anye complained, irritably, elbowing Sarah's body with her knee. The girl had been watching her friend's movements for a while. There was no sign of her taking the initiative to start the project of packing her soon-to-be-ex boyfriend's belongings, which were still scattered everywhere throughout the apartment.
"Come on, get up," he said again, "we have to clean up Dirty Bird's things."
Starting today, Rifat officially became the 'Dirty Bird' for the two of them.
"Can I get in?"
Anye glared. "NOW!"
Sarah jumped off her favorite blue sofa. Damn. She silently noted to herself that if she ever wrote a script for a soap opera again and needed an antagonist like a grumpy stepmother, she wouldn't think twice about recommending Anye.
"Fine!" Sarah joined in the anger, but it was more because she felt she had no choice but to follow her best friend's instructions. After all, the girl was willing to put herself through this much trouble, wasn't it for her own sake? "Where should I start?"
"Most obvious: Dirty Bird's clothes!"
Rifat—ah, sorry, Dirty Bird has two travel bags; one he's currently using to pack his things for a filming trip to Manado, and another, much larger one—placed upright next to the underwear rack. Anye half-threw the dark brown suitcase onto the bed. She said, "Dirty Bird's clothes are all in here."
"Yes, Nyah!"
Anye knew Sarah had just made a dig at her, but she pretended not to hear. The girl was busy with herself, her hands itching to sort through the underwear racks. She checked each rack, and when she found Rifat's underwear, she immediately threw it into the suitcase. Sarah simply shook her head, then tidied up the underwear and put it in the suitcase drawer.
Anye suddenly stopped in her tracks. She stared at something in her underwear drawer with horror.
"W-why, Nye?"
With a face full of disgust, the girl showed the object that had shocked her. The thong was held in place by the tips of her index fingernail and thumb. "Don't... tell... me... this... is... yours....
Sarah's face immediately changed. At first I was shocked. But after that, especially after seeing the thong, the girl just burst out laughing. "Just crazy! Of course not. Pay attention to your waist size..."
Anye glared even more, Sarah thought her friend's eyeballs would roll out of her head because of how intense it was.
"Oh my... so this is the Dirty Bird's?!"
Sarah was still laughing. "Uh-huh," she admitted in an amused voice. "She once pretended to strip in front of me wearing just—ahem, ahem—that leopard thong."
Valentine this year-to be exact.
That night, she and Rifat celebrated Valentine's Day like every other couple on earth. They had a candlelight dinner (Sarah cooked pasta) accompanied by romantic music and a bottle of wine. They watched 'Love Actually' but didn't finish it because they were too busy making out on the blue sofa. But just as Sarah was about to kiss Rifat goodnight, he said he had 'another surprise' for Valentine's Day.
Sarah frowned in confusion. She glanced at the charm bracelet on her wrist—a gift from Rifat some time ago. What other surprise? she thought.
Sarah was told to wait on the blue sofa, but Rifat never came there. The guy shouted from behind the bathroom door, telling Sarah to wait quietly where she was. The girl rolled her eyes. It'd better be good, she thought, then shifted her sitting position to cross-legged on the sofa.
Five minutes, still not finished.
Ten minutes in, Rifat said he wasn't 'ready'.
Fifteen men-
"I'm comiiiing!" exclaimed Rifat, opening the bathroom door excitedly.
Sarah froze in place.
Oh.
My.
Gah!
Sarah admitted that it wasn't just once or twice that she'd seen her beloved boyfriend in, err, no underwear. But in a leopard thong?! HELL NO.
Sarah's eyes scanned Rifat from head to toe. His hair was cut short, perfectly matching his square jaw, which, in Sarah's eyes, was very masculine. His defined neck with his Adam's apple that was beyond belief could be a sexy sight. And did Sarah need to explain more about his tiger and dragon tattoos? No need, because the girl herself was always turned on whenever she noticed the presence of those two 'accessories' on her boyfriend. Plus, his flat stomach and six-pack... hmm, yummy!
Down, down, down....
There it is. The leopard thong that covers Rifat's "marriage capital." Sarah stared intently at it. Trying hard to associate it with sexy-but-still-within-the-bounds-of-reasonable things... Tarzan, for example?
Instead, she felt utterly humiliated. She felt like a horny aunt who hired a stripper for a private show.
Before Sarah could even make out what was on her mind, the guy was already playing music on the CD player. Noooooo! Sarah screamed excitedly. Pick any song as long as it wasn't Mandy Moore's 'In My Pocket'. THAT'S MY FAVORITE SONG!!!
But it seems Rifat really has the intention to destroy the image of Sarah's favorite song. She swayed her hips back and forth, left and right—as if she were a living drilling machine in a leopard thong.
"That was just a warm-up," the guy said with a chuckle. "When I read on a gossip site about Channing Tatum being a former stripper, I suddenly got this idea. He's your favorite artist, so now I'm going to present a local version of Channing Tatum that will make you," Rifat waggled his eyebrows mischievously, "turn on."
Turn on? Turn off and immediately think of washing away your sins in the Ganges, Rif!
Rifat turned around and faced Sarah. He shook his buttocks. "Enjoy it, My Love."
KILL ME!
The sound of Anye's fingers snapping in front of her face immediately brought Sarah back to reality. "Uh... what?" asked the girl, still a little confused.
"I was asking, was the strip show successful or not?" Anye repeated, then tsk-tsk-tsk happily. Just so you know, Sarah was daydreaming.
"Ew. Hell no. But I faked my reaction." And from that moment on, I stopped liking Channing Tatum, Sarah added to herself. Channing out, Alex in.
"Guys are really stupid, aren't they? Sometimes I think, what are we girls looking for in simple-minded creatures like them?"
Sarah joined in, shaking her head. "Penis? And the chance to have kids?"
"Haha! Good reasons."
For a guy with a casual look (his signature outfit is a t-shirt and jeans), the suitcase and a cardboard box were packed to the brim with his clothes and accessories. Sarah, suddenly wanting to have fun, hurried out of the room, pulling on the handle of the wheeled suitcase. Anye followed her, lifting the cardboard box. The two of them reunited in the living room, right in the middle of the room.
"What's next?" Sarah asked.
Anye pointed to the bookshelf. "He must have a book or two or a CD in there, right?"
The girl nodded. She thought to herself that sorting books and CDs would be much easier since she and Rifat had such contrasting tastes.
For example....
"CD Jonas Brothers?"
"Mine."
"Taylor Swift?"
"Mine."
"Chicago?"
Sarah flinched. "Ew. His!"
Especially about books. That's why she and Rifat had a sort of agreement about the shelves' contents. "The first shelf has my books. The second shelf has all his," Sarah explained to Anye. The girl didn't immediately react to her answer. Instead, she leaned forward, looking at the titles and authors' names written on the spines of the books on the first shelf, then comparing them with those on the second shelf.
There was no need to look, Sarah actually knew what her friend would find there. The first shelf was definitely dominated by titles from contemporary romance authors like Marian Keyes, Plum Sykes ('Bergdorf Blondes' is her all-time favorite book) and sexy romances like books by Sherry Thomas and Lynsay Sands. In contrast, Sarah also collects several children's novels by Roald Dahl and non-fiction about scriptwriting.
"I see. I was also wondering, what kind of wind pushed you to read 'Madame Bovary'. But-" Anye's brow furrowed, "how come there's Kurt Vonnegut on your shelf? Don't think I'm mistaken-"
"Nope, that's really mine."
"You read... Vonnegut?" Anye was so confused, her expression looked more like someone with a stomach ache. "You even said you felt sleepy reading 'Jane Eyre,' but this... this... Kurt Vonnegut, you know, Sar, and YOU READ IT?"
Sarah rolled her eyes. "Having doesn't mean reading." Anye's frown deepened. Pity. "That was my little brother's birthday gift when I was twenty years old or so. I don't really remember."
It was given to Sarah on her twenty-second birthday, actually, sent by courier to the production house where she worked. Along with the book, Jandro included a small card that read: 'Happy birthday! I wish you joy and lots of laughter for today and many, many more in the future. Rgrds, Jandro.' But, err, Sarah didn't need to add to the problem by admitting to Anye that she remembered that much detail about the contents of Jandro's greeting card—and the fact that she had only read a little of Kurt Vonnegut's novel, about two or three chapters or so. And even though she had only read a little, Sarah didn't expect someone of Jandro's age to be CAPABLE of reading this without getting bored. Ckckckckck!
Alejandro Putra Vimana—that's his full name, which reminds Sarah of the tendency of male protagonists in teenlit novels (the girl had read some of them, for research before working on the script for the very high school soap opera 'Borju'). The male protagonists in novels of this genre are usually tall, handsome, athletic, accomplished slash student council president slash band member slash basketball expert. The height and student council president parts are the same as Jandro, but the rest... hmmpf. Without meaning to belittle him, Anye's younger brother is too thin and pale—most likely due to spending too much time in his room, either reading smart books like Kurt's novels (compare that to Sarah; the only Kurt she knows is the flamboyant guy in the TV series 'Glee'), or playing online games with fellow nerd friends in who knows where on earth. Jandro rarely leaves the house. Even getting involved in sports like basketball or soccer is rare—and even if they do, it's usually because there's an element of coercion.
Bottom line is, he's sooo not her type.
So, when Jandro asked Sarah out—he was only a third-year junior high student, if I'm not mistaken—she found the situation far from romantic, in fact, quite amusing. No, she didn't mean to insult the guy's feelings at all. On the contrary, even though she politely rejected Jandro, she didn't immediately gossip about it to her older sister.
But we all know Anye. She's like James Bond with a 34A bust. Anyway, there's always someone at home reporting about Jandro's 'draft' love letter to Sarah that was just thrown in the trash. You can guess what happened next. Jandro's face was red like a boiled lobster when Anye appeared in front of him, laughing and brandishing the crumpled, scribbled letter.
As Sarah recalls, there was a time when Jandro didn't speak to Anye for six months because he was so angry.
"My last birthday gift from him, actually." Since she was chatting like this, Sarah managed to steal some time to rest on her beloved blue sofa. Ahh, awesome! She's so comfortable now. "Since he replaced your dad running the business, he hasn't been coming here as often."
"Sometimes I can't stop thinking, how come he had a crush on you in the first place?" Anye saw that Sarah's mouth was ready to comment, so she quickly said, "No offense, Darling-"
"None taken."
"-it's just that, you and Jandro are like... water and oil. Your personalities are completely opposite. For example, he reads Vonnegut, and you... hmmm, prefer to devour novels that sell dreams-"
"Dog!" Sarah cursed, but couldn't get angry.
"-while listening to pop songs. And don't ask
I compared your two circles of friends, your hangouts, your tastes in food, your conversation topics—they're definitely all very different! And despite all that... he still has a crush on you."
"Ah, that's just what you call puppy love, my dear Anye." Sarah stretched her legs out over the arm of the sofa. "The proof is, after work, he's already forgotten about this beautiful sister."
"Or slowly back away once you find out you're living with the Dirty Bird."
"Ah, and that too." The girl nodded.
"Jandro... Jandro...." Anye took a deep breath. "So I miss you child."
As she packed Rifat's books into a box, Anye said she rarely saw her only brother stay at home for long periods. In recent years, after graduating from college, Jandro has been busy with his budget hotel business, which now totals ten hotels across five Southeast Asian countries.
This budget hotel concept isn't original. Accor Group, a global hotel chain, came up with this concept first and transformed it into the Formula 1 Hotel (or Formule 1 Hotel in some countries). But Jandro came up with a very youthful marketing strategy: not only actively advertising in conventional media, but also diligently promoting through backpacker community websites and social media.
Sarah even applauded when Anye explained how Jandro came up with the V Passport concept; for guests who frequently stay at V Hotels, as evidenced by the number of stamps on their V Passport, the hotel management offers extra, free-of-charge services such as laundry or free breakfast.
In no time, Jandro and his V Hotel were starting to be considered. Beyond guesthouses, hostels, and budget hotels like the Formula 1 Hotel, backpackers and businesspeople who simply need a comfortable bed during their business trips are now considering V Hotels as an affordable yet prestigious accommodation option while abroad.
"Your dad must be really proud, right? Now the Vimana Group is getting more and more famous because of the V Hotel," said Sarah, shifting her body a little so she could see Anye who was still squatting in front of the shelf, putting Rifat's books into the second box (she really did have a lot of books).
Anye nodded. "My father had to admit, V Hotel was definitely more profitable than forcing himself to continue in the real estate business, which has been experiencing a bit of a downturn lately."
Sarah nodded. She could imagine Anye and Jandro's father—who, by the way, now preferred spending time with his second wife—could now breathe a sigh of relief that he had entrusted the Vimana Group to the right person.
"Done!" Anye sat on the floor. Her forehead was wet with sweat, which she wiped with the back of her hand. Sarah immediately got up from the sofa and walked to the kitchen to get Anye a can of cold cola.
As Anye pulled the ring, a soft crack followed by the refreshing hiss of the cola foam echoed from inside the red can. Gluck, gluck, gluck—ahhh! "Okay. The first problem is technically solved. Next?"
Sarah didn't answer right away. Her eyes fell on the boxes and suitcases in front of her, and her face suddenly paled. Two years as Rifat's girlfriend... she thought. And in her head, two years was a long time. But look, before her were only a few boxes—and one suitcase. Too little to be seen as 'proof' that she had ever lived with him.
Sarah sat down on the carpet, but her gaze was still fixed on the items. Her eyes were burning now. It was only a matter of time before she cried and—
"Oh my, Sar, why are you crying?"
"Puh-tus...," Sarah's words were not clearly audible because they were interrupted by sobs. "Ghhuwe puh-tus dah-ri Rhih-fff-"
"Yes, Babe." Anye stroked Sarah's head affectionately, and also out of pity. She herself had been in a similar situation. In fact, it was even more dramatic—because
Lowww, Agnesia Putri Vimana is a certified drama queen! After breaking up, she spent weeks hanging out in her room, listening to heartbreak songs (Rossa is the best), not wanting to eat, and being lazy about doing anything (including taking a shower). Finally, she got out of the room because Jandro forced her, assisted by the driver and the maid, dragged her body under the shower and, byurrr, Anye screamed in horror like a serial killer victim when she realized her brother had turned on the cold water for her.
"If it's the best, why now do I feel like I'm not sincere?"
"Because you love him, that's why." Anye was now sitting next to Sarah, holding her best friend's hand with a reassuring grip. "But, Babe, even though you don't feel like it right now, don't want to break up with the Dirty Bird, that doesn't mean this is a bad solution. You do want to continue dating him, but every moment your heart is restless because you're suspicious. Not to mention you probably don't trust him anymore, no matter how much he explains everything until he's foaming at the mouth."
"...." Sarah couldn't deny a single word of what Anye said.
"He cheats, that's red card. He's out-that's the rule."
The girl nodded, then wiped away her tears. After taking a deep breath and remaining silent for a moment, realization slowly began to dawn on her. Yes, she agreed about the red card for infidelity. But... but... how could she banish Rifat's aura from this apartment?
Just now, while tidying up in her room, without Anye's knowledge, Sarah secretly took the time to deeply inhale the scent of sweat and cologne on Rifat's unwashed old clothes. It sounds creepy, but for that moment, she felt incredibly scared because she was sure this was the last time she would see that lumberjack-style red plaid flannel shirt—and any of Rifat's other clothes. Heck, she was even going to miss that despicable leopard thong...
"But, I'm still not sure I can do it. I'm afraid that my remaining feelings for Rifat - and this apartment - will make me go crazy myself. Plus, what's the story, try it, people who are heartbroken make romantic dialogues - oh God!" Sarah closed her eyes tightly, trying to push the image of her self-destruction out of her mind.
"Yeah, don't worry about it."
"Like HOW?!" Even from the girl's howl, one could feel her aura of frustration and desperation.
"Get out of this apartment. And you probably shouldn't be here when he gets back."
"S-so, hmmpf, what do you mean is that I have to be homeless so I can forget about Rifat, huh?"
"Oh my, Heather, you sound blonde sometimes!" Anye rolled her eyes. Inspired by 'The Heathers,' which could be considered the ancestor of 'Mean Girls,' whenever they mocked each other's stupidity, Anye and Sarah referred to each other as Heather. "Well, they're not homeless either, Kae!"
"Then, Heather," said Sarah, still as sarcastic as before, "Where do you suggest I live?"
"What... if... you... write... the script... at... my... family's... villa... just? The one in Ubud?"