He Loves You Not (Loves You Not, #1) | ✓

Scene 8

The rest of the room was blurry and it took me a moment to register the person sitting cross-legged on the leather chair, crouching slightly with a blue gel pen poised on top of a half-written card. We were in his room, and it was 3 am. Beside him on the table was a black Quran with golden inscription on its flat surface, bind close with the bit of magnet put in the inside. This time even I inhaled sharply at the sight, bitten by dèjavu.

"The Quran," the old me whispered and I nodded.

His pen glided frustratingly on the card before he crumpled the thick material, not quite in a perfect ball. He pulled out another card, the one I still kpt stashed under the pile of goodbye letters I got before moving out. It said "Thank You" in silver writing, aqua blue colouring the background. The first time I got that card, the words "Thank You" kind of spoke to me, like he was thanking for me for the three years of hopeless loyalty or the last minutes he started to realize. It meant goodbye in some twisted manner. At least for me.

He lifted his head and stared forward, completely obvilious of our presence. He was thinking hard for something to write. Suddenly inspiration struck him and he laughed, straightening his back and letting the words flow and shape at the bottom of his pen.

This book is the best book of all. Read it every day, even just one page. The place you're gonna move out after this is a good place, take whatever good you can take, and change. –from oreo, black n white, milo, doraemon, tiramisu

There was more in the card but it did not quite stick in my head. The names he signed in the end, was all the ridiculous nicknames I gave him.

The next day, I remember going early to school, on one of my last days. My good guy friend—he was in another class—passed me the Quran and I was kind of speechless but I also kind of expected it. Inside was the card slipped between the pages, blue against white paper.

It took my breath to see it still there. Because just now in real life, a few months before he gave it to me, I gave it back. That was the reason I was surfing through my head about "he loves me not" scenes again.

"I missed it," I said out loud. "I missed it so much. But I can't keep it."

"I know." The old me appeared beside me and I jerked my head up, noticing that she was tilting and leaning into invisibility. She was barely perceptible, as pale as a window reflection on a rainy day.

"Not enough," I smiled.

She smiled back, fading faster than ink on wet paper, "Not enough, but he loves you alright. You are not doomed. Love does not doom. No matter how intense your feelings are, you have a choice. You have a choice to pick whether to move on or not. How many years you stayed does not determine whether you should stay forever and be loyal. Evaluate, use your head aside your heart. Love is blind but you're gonna live with yourself for a long time. Choose someone who would make life a better place. Don't be afraid to acknowledge that it's puppy love. It's okay, it's okay."

The world of "he loves you not" in my mind inclined.

That was the last thing I remember before my mind gave in to unconsciousness and I let the night put me to sleep. There's a big day tomorrow, and I have to move forward.