She then grabbed the notepad immediately, her expression stoic, which caught me off guard. There was an unmistakable air of strangeness about her, a departure from the Zabi I had known. While her features remained familiar, there was an added touch of cuteness that hadn't been there before.
Zabi's slender fingers moved swiftly across the notepad, jotting down words for me to read. "I'm sorry, Miciela. I don't feel well. I had a heated argument with my brother before leaving the house," she explained. A surge of empathy washed over me, realizing that she was enduring her discomfort just to spend time with me. I felt a pang of guilt for ever having wished for something to prevent our hangout.
"We should probably go home then. If only you had let me know earlier that you weren't feeling well," I said, genuine concern lacing my words. It was evident that she had been looking forward to our outing, even with her unwell state. Regret washed over me for harboring such negative thoughts. I was being selfish.
A forced smile crossed Zabi's face, lacking the usual genuine warmth. "I thought I could handle it, but I simply don't have the strength now," she wrote. As I observed her closely, I realized just how frail she seemed. Her complexion had taken on a paler hue, subtly hinting at her diminished well-being.
"Once we finish eating, we should part ways," I suggested gently. Her smile brightened, and I could sense a wave of relief washing over her. It became increasingly evident that she was enduring more pain than I had initially realized. Just then, the waitress approached our table with a tray in hand, gracefully setting down two Hot chocolate, the familiar sight reminding me of the enticing hot chocolate commercials I had seen on television, and two delectable bite-sized portions of cake. The unexpected treats before me caught me off guard, leaving me momentarily surprised.
"I didn't order this," I panicked, my voice betraying my surprise. Zabi calmly raised her notepad, offering an explanation through her written words.
"It's for you," she conveyed.
I was taken aback, caught off guard by the unexpected treats that adorned our table. Gratitude shimmered in my eyes as I mustered the courage to utter shyly, "Thank you, Zabi." It was our first time hanging out, and I had never anticipated such thoughtful gestures. My preparations had revolved around mundane purchases like candies and trinkets, never expecting this level of consideration. As I observed Zabi closely, I couldn't help but notice the maturity that radiated from her, surpassing the initial expectations I had set.
Although the prospect of indulging in a cup of hot chocolate made me hesitant, the tantalizing aroma wafting from the mug was simply irresistible. Until that moment, I had stuck to drinking milk, never venturing into the realm of hot chocolate. As a picky drinker, trying something new was always a cautious endeavor for me.
With trepidation, I gingerly wrapped my hands around the comforting warmth of the cup. The temperature was perfect, providing a respite from the chill in the air.
Zabi, noticing my hesitation, gently tapped the table, capturing my attention. She wanted to ensure I acknowledged her question.
"I ordered it based on my preferences. Don't you like it?" she asked, her tone seemingly disinterested. I shook my head, summoning a smile.
"I like it," I reassured her, concealing the truth. After all, she had chosen it for me.
"I'll repay you in the morning," I uttered, attempting to take a sip of the coffee but hastily spilling it due to its scorching temperature. A burning sensation stung my tongue, and Zabi's expression turned into a poker face, as if she were silently judging my clumsiness.
I pouted, feeling a need to defend myself. "It's my first time hot chocolate, okay?" I stammered, searching for reasons to justify my mishap, as I shifted my focus to slicing the cake with a fork.
Zabi tapped the table once more, gently seeking my attention.
"You don't have to pay for it. It's my treat," she conveyed through her writing. I noticed a change in her handwriting, its elegance surpassing its previous iterations. While her penmanship had never been particularly poor, there was an undeniable improvement that couldn't go unnoticed.
"Your handwriting is beautiful, Zabi. You've really improved," I complimented, catching her off guard and eliciting a snicker. She didn't respond further, but her poker face softened, revealing that she wasn't upset.
"So, do you feel better now, Zabi?" I asked cautiously. She shook her head, and a wave of worry washed over me. The ensuing silence became suffocating, but Zabi remained unresponsive, even as I continued to talk. Perhaps she was simply tired of communicating, so I chose to cease my efforts.
In silence, we consumed our food. A sense of burden weighed upon me, as if I were intruding on her. Once she finished her meal, she proceeded to the counter to settle the bill before returning to her seat, patiently awaiting my completion of the meal. A sudden question emerged within me.
"Why didn't your brother want to join us?" I inquired, turning my gaze towards her expectantly.
She shifted her attention toward me, then wrote her response.
"He doesn't enjoy spending time with you."
Those words struck me with a sharpness that felt like a perfectly aimed arrow piercing my heart. While I had been cognizant of his disdain towards me, the directness with which Zabi conveyed it only heightened the anguish I felt. It was a painful reminder that he harbored genuine animosity towards me. But, in truth, I couldn't deny that I harbored a similar sentiment towards him. Deep within, I had never yearned for his company either.
I fell silent, seeking solace in the comforting embrace of the hot chocolate. As I took a sip, the smooth and velvety texture enveloped my taste buds, delivering a delightful burst of rich chocolate flavor. The sweetness danced upon my tongue, momentarily whisking away the discomfort of the situation.
In that moment, amidst the cloudy weather and chilly breeze, a sense of comfort and joy washed over me. It was a fleeting respite, a momentary reprieve from the unexpected turn of events. Just when I had envisioned an enjoyable outing, the lingering unease reminded me that things were not as I had hoped.
As we left the cafe, the realization of our imminent separation set in. It felt as though I had merely been treated to a meal. The disappointment seeped into my thoughts.
"I'm going home now, Miciela," she wrote.
"Will you be taking the bus?" I inquired, and she nodded, avoiding eye contact as she commenced her journey along the sidewalk. Without hesitation, I walked alongside her. Surprise and confusion clouded her face.
"I'll walk with you until I know you're safely on the bus," I asserted. To my surprise, her expression twisted into one of disgust, as she instinctively buried her face in her palm.
It was the first time I had witnessed such a reaction from her. Did she not approve of my suggestion? Or was she concerned that I would burden her?
My mind whirled with thoughts, trying to decipher the impact of her pain on her actions. Zabi's behavior seemed out of character. I had only known her to exhibit kindness and smiles, even in the face of her own struggles.
In a spontaneous moment, I enveloped her in a warm hug and gently patted her head.
"I hope you'll feel better," I began, but before I could finish my sentence, I was shocked as she abruptly pushed me. Time seemed to slow down as I braced myself, anticipating the impact against the street.
However, Zabi swiftly caught hold of my shirt, preventing me from tumbling onto the pavement. In that moment, I caught a glimpse of surprise etched across her face.
Zabi possessed a strength I hadn't expected. Her height advantage over me meant that even a gentle breeze could easily topple me. As my vision blurred with tears, I realized my cheeks were wet, and my nose throbbed with discomfort.
My emotions had surged uncontrollably to the surface.
"Did I do something wrong, Zabi? I'm so sorry," I choked out between sobs. She pulled me closer to the sidewalk, her presence unwavering. Standing before me, she silently witnessed my outpouring of emotions.
I felt like a vulnerable child, consumed by a profound sense of shame. Gradually, I managed to quiet my sobs.
"I-It's a secret between us that I'm crying, okay?" I looked at her, my face likely contorted and a mess. The tears streamed down my cheeks, and I couldn't help but feel embarrassed by my vulnerability.
She nodded slowly, her eyes fixed on me, her poker face betraying no emotion.
As I wiped my tears with the handkerchief my mother had thoughtfully placed in my pocket, I couldn't help but notice how soft and comforting the fabric felt against my skin.
"Do you want to play at the playground?" Zabi wrote, her finger directing my attention towards a charming little park just a stone's throw away. Her unexpected proposal caught me off guard, filling me with a sense of intrigue. Nestled amidst verdant greenery, the park exuded a tranquil ambiance, its inviting swings and slides whispering an invitation to leave our worries behind and immerse ourselves in carefree joy. In that moment, a flicker of excitement ignited within me, momentarily diverting my attention from Zabi's obvious state of discomfort.
However, a sense of concern resurfaced, reminding me of her condition. "No, maybe you should go home now. You're not feeling well," I suggested, a tinge of worry lacing my words.
She opened her mouth, hesitated, and then closed it again. But soon enough, she picked up her notepad and began to write.
"Then I will be going."
I nodded, reluctantly accepting the fact that our time together would be cut short. Despite my longing to spend more time with her, I knew that her well-being should take precedence.
We walked side by side towards the bus stop, the weight of our impending separation casting a bittersweet shadow over me.
Just as we reached the bus stop, Zabi took out her notepad and began to write. A solemn message unfolded before my eyes: "I hope you won't ever mention anything that happened today when we see each other again."
"Okay..." I replied, my response tinged with uncertainty. I could sense Zabi's gaze upon me, observing my reaction, as if silently gauging my commitment to keeping today's events a secret. The weight of her unspoken words hung in the air.
But then, she flipped to a new page in her notepad, her handwriting appearing slightly hesitant. With a mix of apprehension and courage, she rolled up the paper and extended it towards me. The gesture held a hint of trepidation, as if she was entrusting me with something fragile and vulnerable.
Curiosity piqued, I held the rolled-up note in my hands, pondering its contents. But with the approaching bus, time was fleeting, and I decided to save it for later, tucked safely in my pocket.
As the bus finally arrived, its doors hissing open, Zabi stepped onto it, her gaze fixed on me. I mustered a smile, waving goodbye as she turned to face me.
There was no smile in return, only a reciprocal wave that spoke volumes in its silent simplicity.
As the bus gradually disappeared from view, its engine's rumble fading into the distance, I was left alone, clutching the rolled-up note in my hands. The time had come to unravel the mystery within.
With a mixture of curiosity and anticipation, I carefully unfurled the paper, revealing the heartfelt words penned by Zabi.
"I'm sorry :(" The sight of the sad emoji alongside the apology startled me, stirring a myriad of questions within me. Why had she rolled up the note? Zabi's sudden change in behavior left me feeling both bewildered and intrigued.
But amidst the confusion, a warm fondness washed over me, and I couldn't help but let out a gentle laugh. Zabi, in all her quirks and newfound complexities, remained undeniably endearing.
In that moment, I realized that she wasn't the same Zabi I had known before. There was an air of mystery surrounding her.
*****
"Sooner or later, she'll find out that I'm not you if she's not naive," my brother exclaimed with irritation evident in his countenance. As he entered the house, he tossed the wig casually onto the armchair. His furious expression caught me off guard. I had been sitting on the sofa, engrossed in my textbooks. It was my idea for him to go along with it, pretending to be me, and now I felt awful.
"Why?" I stood up, wanting to delve deeper into the situation. He walked briskly towards his room, but paused when I stood in his way.
He crossed his arms, a clear sign of his annoyance. "I just can't be like you, Zabi. Remember what happened last time we did this? Do you have any idea the trouble it caused?" His tone conveyed both boredom and irritation, his coldness seeping through. He was genuinely furious.
Worry surged within me, fearing that he might harm her, even though I knew Xayvion wasn't capable of such actions towards a girl. However, he had changed significantly this year.
"I know, but..." I started to say, my voice trailing off. Memories from the past came rushing back, recalling the times when Xayvion took on my identity in class. What began as an innocent game, a prank we played on our parents to test their ability to tell us apart, soon took a different turn. We discovered an added advantage: Xayvion attending my class and obtaining the answers to tests in advance, giving me an unfair advantage.
But as time went on, I realized the unintended consequences of our actions. While Xayvion's extroverted nature helped me gain some friends, it also seemed to attract more attention and, unfortunately, more bullying. The line between harmless fun and the harsh realities of school life began to blur.
However, our little charade took an unexpected turn. The situation spiraled out of control when Xayvion, fueled by frustration, resorted to violence and threw a punch at the tormentor who had pushed us too far.With the threat of suspension looming, Xayvion hastily removed the wig, hoping to avoid the punishment that awaited me
In the end, both the bully and Xayvion were given detention as a consequence. I blamed myself for what had occurred, and as a result, I transferred to a different school. Xayvion underwent a sudden transformation, befriending kids who were known bullies. Regrettably, I only realized the truth behind his actions much later.
"Don't worry, this time we won't get suspended," I reassured him, hoping to ease his concerns. However, he eyed me suspiciously, unsure of my conviction.
I only wanted my brother and my best friend to grow closer in my own way, and for my brother to develop some affection for Rhaella.
"What do you think your friend will think if she finds out that it was me with her today?" he questioned.
"She won't suspect a thing if you don't act so suspiciously," I responded, attempting to reassure him.
He looked at me with a smirk on his face, attempting to decipher my thoughts. Then, he gently patted my head.
"She's probably getting suspicious by now. Although, I must admit, she seems really attached to you," he remarked, causing my eyes to widen.
"What have you done to her?" I asked anxiously, shaking his shoulders. My heart raced at the thought that she might be hurt by something he had said or done.
"It's a secret, Zabi. It's your fault for pushing me to agree with you today," he teased, relishing in my worry for my friend. His mischievous smile only heightened my concern.
With a light push, he sidestepped me and disappeared into his room, slamming the door shut behind him.
I bit my lip, realizing that there was still a long way to go before he would genuinely like my friend.