Chapter 1
“I only sell what can be sold — nothing more, nothing less.
That’s the price of friendship, you know?”
The memories of Syed Ikram haunted me so deeply that I lost all desire to go to the office.
I told my assistant, Samsinar, that I wasn’t feeling well. All appointments for the day were cancelled. Should anyone need me, I said, they could just call. I would be staying home. Samsinar understood and didn’t question further.
After an entirely sleepless night, my body felt exhausted — yet sleep still refused to come. I dragged myself to the kitchen, made myself a hot drink, and fried some rice.
Fifteen minutes later, breakfast was ready — steaming Nescafe, a plate of fried rice with a slice of omelet and some cucumbers neatly arranged. It looked inviting, like a quiet comfort to my troubled soul.
The clock showed 7:30 a.m. — still early.
I went into the bedroom, changed out of my pajamas, and wrapped a towel around my chest before heading to the shower. The warm water cascading over my skin felt like a fleeting relief — washing away fatigue, but not the ache inside.
When I sat down to eat, Jefri appeared, a helmet in his hand. He greeted me politely, his usual warm smile in place. I returned it with the same friendliness.
He looked neat — a crisp white shirt tucked into black slacks, an abstract-patterned tie, and his hair slicked perfectly back.
“Join me for breakfast?” I offered, not waiting for an answer as I reached for an extra plate and cup.
“Sure! I’m starving,” he replied cheerfully, pulling out a chair beside me.
“Oh wow, fried kampung-style rice — my favourite!” he exclaimed, his tone almost boyish, as though he had just received a long-awaited toy.
I yawned suddenly. Embarrassed, I noticed Jefri watching me closely.
“What time did you go to bed last night?” he asked.
I shook my head.
“You didn’t sleep at all?”
I nodded.
“Hey, what’s wrong? Are you sick? Fever?” His brows furrowed with concern. He set down his fork and spoon, his eyes meeting mine with sincere worry.
“Nothing, really,” I said softly, my voice trembling slightly.
I lowered my gaze. My heart ached. Jefri’s concern reminded me too much of Syed Ikram — the way he cared for me, especially when I fell ill.
Once, when I was burning with fever, Ikram stayed awake the whole night beside me. He was the one who fed me spoonfuls of porridge when I refused to eat.
For two days, when I couldn’t even shower, it was Ikram who gently wiped my body with a damp towel — every movement tender, every gesture filled with love.
“Tell me what’s bothering you. Maybe I can help,” Jefri urged gently.
“It’s not that simple, Jef. There’s just… too much going on in my head. I wouldn’t even know where to start.”
“Still, it helps to talk about it, doesn’t it? Sometimes, saying it out loud makes the weight a little lighter.”
“Would you really want to hear my story? It could take seven days and seven nights — and I might still not finish.”
“Of course I’d listen,” he said, grinning. “I may not be able to fix everything, but at least you won’t be alone. Besides, who’ll cook fried rice for me if you fall sick again?” he teased.
“So that’s your motive, huh?”
“I’m good at eating, not cooking,” he joked. “But if you need help washing the car, mopping the floor, or doing heavy work — I’m your guy!”
“That can be arranged,” I replied, laughing. His sense of humour was disarming — light, charming, and a little too effective at melting the gloom that had settled in my chest.
“Just say the word, ma’am,” he continued playfully, placing a hand dramatically over his chest. “This humble servant is ready to sacrifice sweat and soul!”
I rolled my eyes, hiding a small smile. Careful, boy, I thought. Say things like that too easily, and someone might just fall for you.
“Just make sure you don’t end up selling your soul too,” I teased.
Jefri burst into laughter, realizing what I meant. His face flushed red — caught in his own game of words. He didn’t realize who he was playing with.
“I’ll only sell what can be sold, okay? Nothing more, nothing less. The price of friendship,” he said with a cheeky grin.
“Maybe later…” I replied quietly, my tone suddenly heavy.
Sensing the shift, Jefri said nothing more. He finished his food, wiped his mouth with a tissue, and stood up.
“Alright, we’ll talk again tonight. Take care, okay?”
I nodded, smiling faintly as he left.
The sound of his motorcycle engine faded into the morning air. The silence that followed was deafening. I didn’t realize my tears had started to fall until they hit my palm — warm, trembling, and real.
A faint knock on the door pulled me out of my thoughts.
Who could it be this early?
When I opened the door, Bada, my dearest friend, appeared — smiling like he always did, with that unmistakable mischievous charm.
“For a moment, I thought it was someone else,” I muttered, stepping aside as he let himself in. He went straight to the kitchen — making himself a drink and helping to the leftover fried rice like it was his own house.
“Who’d you think it was?” he teased.
“Who else? Maybe him,” I replied without thinking, my voice half joking, half aching.
“Oh? Still missing your him?”
“Of course. If we remember where we once fell, how can we forget where we once… loved?” I countered, not willing to lose our usual wordplay.
“That place where you fell — it’s long gone now,” Bada shot back with a grin, his tone sharp but familiar.
His words stung. I said nothing.
He must have noticed, because his face softened.
“Did I upset you, honey?” he asked gently, his voice turning almost apologetic.
“Not really. But what’s with the early visit? Need to borrow lipstick again?” I teased.
“Oh, excuse me! Just because I came without makeup doesn’t mean you can insult me like that!”
We both laughed — the tension easing, as it always did when we were together.
“I’m just kidding. You look the same with or without makeup,” I said, smirking.
“Wow. The widow speaks! Careful with that mouth of yours.”
“Excuse you — I’m still technically within my iddah period. I can still go back, you know.”
“Back to sharing your husband with your own sister?”
“Why not?” I quipped, mischievous.
“Don’t start that crazy talk again!”
“Come on, you know I’m joking,” I said with a laugh, though the mention of Syed Ikram still twisted something sharp inside me.
“Find someone else, Brian. Let Ikram live his life with Ramlah. Don’t go stirring up old ghosts,” Bada warned.
“I was only teasing.”
“Just making sure. I know how your mind works.”
Bada smiled again, tugging me by the hand toward the living room. That look in his eyes told me something — he had news. Exciting, probably dramatic news.
“I came early because I’ve got something important to tell you,” he whispered, face lighting up.
“New anak ikan again?” I teased, referring to his string of younger boyfriends.
“Oh please. I can barely handle the one I’ve got, why would I add another headache?”
“Because you’re a predator. Always hungry,” I fired back.
“Well, that’s true,” he said, laughing. “But this time it’s different. Something big — something extraordinary.”
“With you, everything’s extraordinary.”
“No, really. You’ll be shocked!”
“Fine. Tell me. If I’m not shocked, I’ll pretend to be,” I joked.
“But promise me something first,” he said suddenly, his tone more serious now.
“What promise?”
“Whatever I tell you — don’t get angry. Stay calm. Promise?”
I frowned. That wasn’t like him. Bada usually couldn’t wait to spill the tea, even before confirming it.
“I can’t promise anything until I hear it,” I said. “If it’s something crazy, I’ll yell. Maybe even karate you right here.”
“Promise first!” he begged.
I sighed and nodded, though my chest tightened with unease.
“I’m going to Bangkok!” he declared.
“When?”
“Next month.”
“For what? A holiday with Joe? Another honeymoon?”
“No, I’m going with you!”
“With me?”
“Yes, to accompany me for… surgery.”
“Oh God, not another boil again?” I teased, remembering his overdramatic last one.
“This is… bigger than a boil,” he said with a sly smile.
“Then what?”
“Don’t you get it?”
“Liposuction?”
“No, something else…”
I was getting impatient. His grin was too mysterious.
“I’m going to remove it,” he said finally.
“Remove what?”
“My manhood.”
My eyes widened.
“I’m going to become a real woman, honey!” he declared, beaming with uncontainable joy.
I froze.
For a moment, I couldn’t breathe.
Bada’s smile was radiant — proud, liberated, fulfilled. He looked like someone who had just announced the greatest triumph of his life.
But for me — it felt like the world had tilted.
“You’re really going to… remove that?” I managed to whisper.
“Yes,” he said softly, his eyes shining. “I’m finally going to be who I truly am.”
And just like that, I was speechless — too stunned even to cry.
