Narcissistic parents make their children feel as if they are living in a prison. Children are born only to feed their parents' expectations. They are not allowed to grow and enjoy their own lives. They live for their parents' ego.

Devara Almira, twenty-seven years old and soon to be engaged.

I don't know what she will do to her husband when she gets married later if every day is like that. She hasn't even moved from her chair for the past two hours, in the same position, staring at her phone screen while chuckling, but the next moment crying uncontrollably, then laughing again. Keep it up. Devara has truly been living in the confines of social media.

However, I don't want to mock or comment on the girl's habits, because almost everyone in the world today does the same thing as her. Moreover, we don't always have free time like today.

"Eat up!" I said while placing a plate of omelet and fresh tomato slices on the table.

Devara nodded, but her gaze was still fixed on the phone screen displaying a short video, and then she scrolled with her tiny thumb. She has even become too thin due to the diet she has been following. I'm sure her engagement dress will need a lot of extra stitches later. However, she keeps insisting on losing weight. As a nurse, she should be more realistic. Health is far more important than being beautiful with an excessively thin body.

Without a diet, with all her busyness managing the event, I thought her weight would automatically drop.

Devara put down her smartphone, then picked up the plate containing my breakfast. Then, Devara inhaled the aroma of the food for a moment and then sliced the surface of the egg with a fork. "Aren't you going to eat?"

"I already ate earlier," I replied.

"When?"

"Earlier. In the kitchen."

"Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

"You were busy playing on your phone and didn't respond when called."

Hearing my answer, Devara smiled shyly.

Honestly, even though she can be annoying sometimes, Devara is a good and pleasant girl. She has been my best friend for almost three years, more precisely since I moved to work at the current nursing home. We live in a dormitory with the other workers, which is located right next to the large and magnificent building of the nursing home.

My unit is located next to Devara's unit, which is why we are very close. She often comes to my room, stays over, and makes it seem more like my younger sister rather than just a coworker. There's no one like her. However, I like it. This reminds me of my two younger sisters, Zahra and Fahira, who live in the village. She can replace my longing for an older sister.

Isn't this strange? I mean, when my two younger siblings are right in front of me, we almost never get along, but when we're apart, it feels sad. I miss both of them. I even hope the holidays come quickly so I can go home and meet them, but unfortunately, when the holidays are right around the corner, I never use them.

I actually plan to use it to meet my boyfriend, having fun behind my parents' backs. Although it doesn't actually take me long to get home, especially with the comfortable, cheap, and fast trains like now.

The problem is, at my age of thirty-three, the classic question of when to get married is something terrifying. No! I am not offended at all because Ilham and I are not planning to get married anytime soon. He supports my career as a doctor one hundred percent. Moreover, Ilham also doesn't want to marry me without parental blessing—which my mother has never given us until today. Only my mother has not given us her blessing.

Poor Ilham is always wrong in my mother's eyes. No matter how good-looking and handsome he is, Mother seems to see him as a ghost.

I know, Ilham never graduated from college. He stopped his accounting studies in the 6th semester because he had to help run the family business after his father passed away. However, that doesn't mean he wasn't successful; on the contrary, Ilham managed to develop his parents' agricultural business. He even bought many fields, built several agricultural stores, and supported his large family. It's just that in my mother's old-fashioned eyes, all of that means nothing. For my mother, a person's success is still determined by their uniform.

Yes, uniform. Like becoming a soldier or a police officer.

Another reason I don't want to go home is that Mom keeps insisting Dad introduce me to his coworkers. Blind date? Arranged marriage like Siti Nurbaya? Oh, come on! I don't need all that. It makes it seem like I'm not desirable. Even though it's not for sale.

I nodded, then leaned my back against the soft sofa cushion. "He's on his way now."

"Why did he come up here?"

"Train."

Hearing my answer, Devara just smiled. "You are really crazy. I didn't expect you wouldn't come back this vacation. Last Eid you didn't come back, and now you're not coming back either. Even though your hometown is close, May. It's still farther for me, but I even go back almost every holiday. Only now am I not going back. Even then, it's because I'm getting engaged and my parents are getting divorced."

"But our situation is different, Devara!"

"Yeah, it's different. My parents divorced after thirty years of marriage."

Since her father was caught cheating and divorced her mother six months ago, Devara has indeed become somewhat annoying. Especially when it comes to family topics. It's understandable; who wouldn't feel embarrassed if, just before the wedding, their parents failed at maintaining their marriage?

No one wants their family to fall apart, including me. Even though when I was a teenager, on several occasions I thought about separating Dad from Mom. Especially if they were involved in an argument. As with most daughters, I am indeed closer to my father. He is my first love. That's why the conflict between my mother and me arose as her relationship with my father became strained. However, as I grew older, I understood that not all families can be harmonious. In fact, some families can even function without harmony. This is strange, somewhat paradoxical, and confusing. But the problem is, even the concept of marriage itself is already very, very confusing to me.

"Why is this happening? Why are you all arguing?" Ms. Anggi, another resident of the dormitory, entered the lounge while tying up her long hair. "The two of you were so loud that I could hear you all the way to my room. What's the problem?"

Neither Devara nor I answered. Compared to Ms. Anggi, we are much younger. We even deserve to be called her children. That's why Ms. Anggi was elected as the dormitory head for two consecutive years.

Just like us, Ms. Anggi is not going home for the holidays this year. Besides having to take care of some Oma and Opa who stayed in the dormitory, Ms. Anggi's two children are also studying abroad. Rather than going back to the village and being alone, she chose to stay. Moreover, according to him, it would be very dangerous for me and Devara to be alone in the dormitory, considering that Mr. Min, our dormitory caretaker, only comes in the morning to clean.

Ms. Anggi has really become like a parent to us.

"Oh, Maya, will your friend still come later?"

I nodded. "Yes, Ma'am."

"When?"

"About in the late afternoon."

Ms. Anggi snatched the turquoise scarf with the name of our nursing home printed in bold on the hanger next to the door, then put it on. "I already told Mr. Martin he is only allowed to stay for two days. No more than that. The room at the very back. But it really needs to be cleaned first. Because it hasn't been occupied for a long time. There must be a lot of dust."

"Really, Ma'am?"

Tiny lips Ms. Anggi smiled faintly before finally leaving us.

Lucky. I don't know what word best describes my good fortune. Usually, Mr. Martin is very strict and doesn't allow strangers to stay over. Although, of course, Ilham is not a stranger to me.