Arsenio held his finger just above the Send button, leaving the string of words he had spent so long composing suspended there. Every thread of feeling, every question and explanation he wanted to convey, suddenly seemed to lose its footing. Without another thought, he deleted the entire message and replaced it with something far simpler, though it still carried an unspoken worry.
“Adiba… are you still at the dorm?”
The message went through, but time seemed to move more slowly than usual. Minute after minute passed without a reply appearing on the screen. At last, Arsenio set his phone beside the bed, allowing the exhaustion from his long journey to weigh him down. He slowly lowered himself onto the mattress, his eyelids growing heavier and heavier until they finally closed, and in an instant he fell asleep.
Nearly half an hour passed before a soft yet firm knock sounded against the door, breaking the silence and disturbing his rest. Arsenio jolted awake, his consciousness returning.
“Nio… it’s time to eat, son. Come out,” his mother’s voice called faintly from beyond the door.
“Yes, Mom. Just a moment,” he answered softly, getting up and sitting on the edge of the bed as he tried to gather his still-foggy awareness.
His gaze accidentally fell on the phone lying beside his pillow. A new message notification had arrived a few moments earlier, and the sender’s name was enough to make his heartbeat change rhythm. Adiba. But with his stomach feeling empty, Arsenio decided not to open or reply to the message right away. Perhaps he would give it plenty of time later, after filling his growling stomach.
Meanwhile, elsewhere, Adiba was spending the remainder of her vacation at the home of Gania, her classmate. The two young women who were so disciplined and serious in their daily battles with piles of reading, papers, and college deadlines had finally made room to simply catch their breath. Before them stretched the screen of a large television, bearing witness to a rare moment of rest they seldom got to enjoy amid the demands of academic life.
As it happened, the program playing at the time centered on a romantic story, but Gania seemed less than entertained. She let out a long sigh and sank deeper into the back of the plush sofa.
“I don’t know why, but I get bored so quickly whenever I’m served a romantic story like this. Just imagine—I don’t even have a boyfriend. Now I have to keep watching other couples be happy. How am I not supposed to get jealous?” she complained, folding her arms. It was obvious Gania was annoyed.
Adiba only chuckled softly at the humor in her friend’s complaint, then casually turned toward her.
“If you’re bored, just change the channel. No one’s stopping you,” she replied calmly.
Gania turned back as if she wanted to make sure before reaching for the remote. “You really don’t mind? Aren’t you the one who likes love stories like this the most?”
“Being interested in one thing doesn’t mean closing the door to everything else, Gan. I like romantic stories, but that doesn’t mean I can’t also enjoy funny shows, suspenseful horror stories, touching tales of people struggling through life, or documentaries that broaden my general knowledge,” Adiba explained smoothly.
Gania nodded slowly, as though weighing those words, then flashed a mischievous smile and stared intently at her friend’s face.
“But it makes sense that you’d like comedy movies too. Who would’ve thought that your face, which always looks so gentle, funny, cute, and innocent, would have a charm all its own—enough to make anyone who saw it feel comfortable, as if they were hypnotized by its warmth and laughter?” she said, trying to tease Adiba.
Adiba’s eyes widened in disbelief. She lightly slapped Gania’s arm while putting on an offended expression.
“Wait, so you mean my face is only good for being laughed at? Do you think I’m some kind of clown who’s supposed to entertain everyone all the time?” she asked, turning her face slightly away as if she were truly offended, though her eyes couldn’t hide the smile she was holding back.
Gania let out a bright laugh and quickly changed her tone so she wouldn’t be misunderstood. “Just kidding, Adiba. Hehe…”
Adiba slowly shook her head, then turned her calmer gaze back to the screen and redirected the conversation.
“Then we’d better find something a little more meaningful to watch. How about a story about a family’s struggle?”
But Gania responded with the assumption that had already taken shape in her mind. “There it is. It’s going to be about married life again, isn’t it? A husband and wife’s romance and everything else centered on love?”
Adiba merely shook her head, seeming amazed at how her friend always thought so far ahead.
“You’re always making your own assumptions before hearing the full explanation. That’s not what I mean. The story is more about a mother’s perseverance as she struggles alone to care for and raise her children into adulthood—the bitterness of life and the harshness of fate they have to endure together, and how their togetherness becomes their greatest strength. At least we can take lessons and wisdom from it that are far more valuable than mere entertainment,” she explained, her voice calm and thoughtful.
Gania nodded slowly, now interested in hearing more. “That sounds interesting.”
She immediately picked up the remote and began browsing through the channels and program titles until she found a story that matched the description Adiba had just given.
While Gania’s fingers were still busy scrolling through the list of programs, trying to find the title that best fit the description, Adiba accidentally reached for the phone lying beside her. When the screen lit up, she caught sight of part of a notification—a message that had come in about fifteen minutes earlier, while she had been so absorbed in the show and their conversation that she hadn’t noticed it. The sender turned out to be Arsenio.
She slowly opened the message, read it, and replied.
“I’m not going home, Nio. I’m at a friend’s house right now. Did you need something?”
The message was sent, and Adiba waited for a moment, letting her gaze linger on the screen, which had now gone blank. But time continued to pass, and no reply followed. Not wanting to let the uncertainty bother her, she slowly pressed the lock button and returned the phone to its place just as the film’s opening music began to echo through the room, drawing their attention back to the story that had just begun.
A little more time passed, slowly but surely, and clear tears began to gather in the corners of Adiba and Gania’s eyes. The story unfolding on the television touched something deep within their hearts, until both of them became completely swept up in the heartbreaking plot. Their sobs could no longer be held back, breaking free along with the emotion that had reached its peak. Of the two, Adiba seemed the more deeply moved. Her shoulders shook violently, and her tears spilled over, beyond her ability to hold them back.
In the midst of the sorrow enveloping her heart, the phone beside her suddenly lit up, accompanied by a ringtone that shattered the silence. Without intending to answer, without even glancing at the name on the screen, and completely lost in the storm of emotions surging through her, Adiba’s hand moved unconsciously and pressed the green answer button. She had no idea what she had just done, as if the world around her contained nothing but the tragic story playing before her eyes.
But on the other end, someone’s voice rang out, filled with unmistakable anxiety and concern.
“Ha… Adiba? Adiba, what’s wrong? What happened?”
The voice slipped through the roar of tears filling her ears. Adiba jerked in surprise. Her brow drew tightly together as her awareness slowly reached back toward reality. In that instant, she understood everything. The call was connected, and the voice calling her name so anxiously belonged to Arsenio.
Adiba’s face instantly grew hot. An overwhelming sense of embarrassment seeped through her entire being. Her eyes were swollen and red, her cheeks streaked with tears, and that heartbreaking sobbing had just been heard in full by the one person she least wanted to know about her condition. In a hurry, she wiped away the tears still streaming down her face, trying to hide the unmistakable traces of sadness. She pulled the phone away from her ear for a moment, attempting to calm the sobs still interrupting her breathing and struggling to steady the rhythm of her heaving chest.
Once the turmoil in her chest had eased a little and her breathing began to return to normal, Adiba slowly brought the phone back to her ear. Then she stood and moved away from the television, which was still showing the heartbreaking story. She tried to arrange her voice so it would sound more controlled, though remnants of sorrow still lingered in every word she was about to speak.
“Hello, assalamu alaikum…”