Tricks for a Heart [mlm]

Chapter 3

"Saiful also ended up blasting all the boys he dated in his uni years," Shafiq adds. "For someone who didn't stand up for you about not wanting to feel shit about being gay, he seems to have all the balls to showcase about being one on Instagram."

"Which isn't wrong," Elena retorts defensively.

"I'm not saying it is, but he basically just left Adam to be on his own and let Ikhwan talk all that shit to him before school ended."

"Well, in retrospect, maybe all of us were young and dumb once, and hopefully we all have somewhat changed for the better," Elena says.

"Also, another funny thing to note is how Ikhwan basically took a one-eighty in all this shit, though. That's crazy."

"What do you mean—" I'm about to ask, but Elena hit the brake too hard again.

"Fuckfuckfuck," she screams. "Okay, which junction should I turn to ..."

Elena slows down near the shop blocks, and I notice a restaurant at the end of the block already filled with a crowd.

"We're here," she says, and I'm very close to changing my mind.

**********

My heart pulsates up to my ears when Shafiq and I finally get out of the car. We approach the building and Shafiq is texting someone along the way as he usually does. I take a deep breath to calm myself down and steal a glance at a reflection from a window of a random car as we walk to the restaurant. I think I look fine ... My hair decided to cooperate today, and I look slimmer in this shirt in certain angles. This is why darker colours always suit me. I know I'm still voluptuous as fuck, but this isn't a day where I feel proud to flaunt it.

From the design of the restaurant's promotional banner, Allspice Cookery seems to be offering authentic Indian cuisine. I heard rumours of Hrithik studying abroad for culinary, but that slipped my mind right until this moment.

If shit's going to hit the fan, at least I'd be having free food.

As we line up to get to the door, I already notice an older-looking man in a beautiful cream kurta greeting everyone there, welcoming the crowd inside with a grin so beaming and sunshiny that I immediately got reminded of Hrithik. He ages really well, because although he looks older, his facial features don't seem to change ever since I first saw him at school. He would basically visit his son every weekend, bringing lots of food along so the family would have a mini picnic in one of the gazebos built near their dormitory blocks at Putra Wira.

"Mr. Ravi!" Shafiq says, and Hrithik's dad pulls him into an embrace. He's twice bigger and taller than the two of us, quite the opposite of what Hrithik is.

Mr. Ravi pats and runs his hand on top of Shafiq's head, squeezing him in his embrace and looking like he's about to cry.

"My boy's already so big!" he says, teary-eyed. "Oh Lord, Shafiq ... you look different, son! Already so skinny!"

"Look at you, Mr Ravi. You don't age even a bit," Shafiq says as he returns a smile.

Mr. Ravi is still grinning as he turns to me, offering a hug that I don't know how to decline. I'm not sure if Mr. Ravi remembers me or even know about me, although he claimed to know everyone in our cohort before because of his frequent visit to school. If I remember correctly, Hrithik also tended to share everything to his dad when we were in school. Hrithik would tell Dad who got first place in a particular test. Hrithik would tell Dad who cried on the public telephone at school as they made homesick calls to their parents. But I don't think I'm memorable enough for Hrithik to even mention me.

"You must be ... um ... oh!" Mr. Ravi exclaims. "You're ... you're Adam Iman, right?"

Okay, I'm actually impressed. "Yes, Uncle."