Chapter 9
Tshabina
“Have you arrived? Where are you?” I held my phone to my ear while fanning my cheeks with my free hand. This afternoon was unbearably hot; even the lobby’s air conditioning couldn’t cool me down.
“I’m already in the lobby, Zi. I’m waiting for Mas Bibu; he just finished his lesson.” I answered while sitting on one of the sofas in the lobby. I was at one of the golf courses in Pondok Indah, Jakarta. We always went to this golf course whenever we wanted to play.
Uncle Bakti often played golf here with his business associates, and both Zioh and Zeraiah always insisted that Tsabinu and I join them. It had even become a tradition over the years, because we would always play golf together.
“Wait, I’ll come out,” Zioh said, and I could hear the sound of running through my phone. I glanced left and right towards the entrance, wondering if my brother had arrived yet—until I gasped in surprise when something cold pressed against my cheeks.
“Hot, isn’t it?” Zioh teased when I flinched and turned to find him pressing two cold drinks against my face and grinning. His bright smile spread straight to me. His handsome face glistened with sweat, and his eyes sparkled as he looked at me, making my smile widen to match his.
He wore a plain black polo shirt, khaki chino shorts, and golf shoes. It was perfect—absolutely perfect, warming me and setting my heart racing. He looked so good while I was wearing the complete golf outfit Zioh had given me for Easter this year.
Yes, he’d given me an Easter gift.
In fact, he often gave me gifts on days that didn’t usually call for them: every birthday month, Easter, New Year’s, or whenever I learned something new and succeeded at it.
It wasn’t always objects; sometimes, it was moments. He took me for walks in the park and let me eat as much ice cream as I wanted, played chauffeur and drove me around the neighbourhood, granted me one wish, or spent the day together, eating, playing, and being outside.
Zioh did all that, only for me.
Seeing him again made me smile. It was automatic. Like a switch that turned on whenever he appeared, perhaps because my heart recognized him as the very center of my joy.
“A little,” I said, pinching my fingers together and grinning at him. He let out a warm smile, and I grabbed the bottles from his hands, asking, “Where’s Zeraiah?”
“Making a scene around Mum and Mas Zaeem,” Zioh replied as he smoothed my bangs, which had become messy.
Nodding, I opened one of the bottles and drank. Again and again, Zioh poked at my cheeks until I swatted his hand away in annoyance, but he only smiled. He loved doing that, and sometimes he would compliment my cheeks, calling them so round.
Back then, I used to pinch them between my fingers, wondering if I could trim a bit off. But when he told me he liked them, I lingered before the mirror, smiling like a fool until my cheeks rose.
But, still, it was embarrassing when he kept poking at them. Zioh chuckled and finally gave in, lowering his hand before asking again. “Bibu’s still at his lesson? What a Golden boy, isn’t he?”
I nodded as I finished the drink. “But he’s done by now, probably still on the way. By the way, Uncle Bakti is playing golf with his colleagues, right? Is it okay if I join?”
Zioh raised his brow. “Why wouldn’t it be? What could go wrong?”
I looked at him, hesitant. “I mean, it’s business? Wouldn’t it be awkward for Bibu and me to tag along?” I shrugged. “It just feels weird.”
Zioh shrugged, his thumb brushing away sweat from my forehead. “It doesn’t matter. Zeraiah and I just want to be with you and Bibu. Those people are boring.” His voice was gentle, sincere, as his knuckles grazed my cheek again. This time, I let him.
“About bloody time!” A loud voice startled me.
“I’ve been waiting ages while you two sat around.
Come on, let’s go in!” It was Zeraiah, striding over from the course in his navy polo shirt and matching shorts.
Jogging the last few steps, he yanked me upright, stole my drink, and downed it in one go.
He slung me under his arm like a sack of rice, trapping me between his side and armpit as he dragged me along.
“Wait for Mas Bib—” I tried to protest, but Zeraiah cut me off with his usual nonchalant tone.
“Let’s go out tomorrow, yeah? I saw Mas Zaeem’s bank notification; he just got paid.
We can milk him.” He smirked. “How about Singapore? Same-day trip. Orchard Road shopping, then dinner at Marina Bay Sands.”
Groaning, I struggled to pry his heavy arm off me. “Ugh! Let me go! You’re like a freaking moose, Zeraiah! You’re so heavy!”
With his wolfish grin, he didn’t listen as usual. He looked back over his shoulder, grinning on purpose at Zioh. I glanced too, catching Zioh’s flat expression as he followed behind us, his cold stare clashing with his brother’s.
Mas Zaeem and Uncle Bakti greeted us as we entered the golf course, standing nearby with a few colleagues. Mama Nadine was there too, smiling as she walked towards us.
Mama Nadine looked elegant and graceful, wearing a light-blue polo, a white knit vest, and a pleated skirt.
With her black headband and cat-eye sunglasses, she looked like a model.
Her dark blonde hair fell perfectly down her back, and though her emerald-green eyes were hidden behind her glasses, her beauty was undeniable.
Every bit of it she had passed on to Zeraiah.
She was stunning and elegant. Of course, what else would you expect from a fashion designer?
“Hello, my beautiful girl,” she greeted, her warm smile making me smile too.
“Hello, Mama N-Nadine,” I struggled to manage from under Zeraiah’s grip.
“Zer.” Her tone was firm but warm, and Zeraiah finally released me, messing up my ponytail and raising his hands in mock surrender before heading off towards his dad, kissing his mother’s cheek on the way.
Mama Nadine sighed, smoothing my hair. “Will you and Tsabinu come to dinner at ours later, darling? I’m making dim sum. Zeraiah’s been begging for it all week—”
Her words trailed off as Uncle Bakti and his colleagues approached. A hand touched my shoulder, and I turned to find Zioh fixing my hair.
Uncle Bakti gestured towards him. “This is my middle son, Zioh,” he introduced, pride glinting in his eyes.
“He’s gifted, my blessed son. Brilliant in math, physics, chemistry, and he’s even a national champion in drawing.
The perfect mix of his parents.” Uncle Bakti shifted his gaze to his firstborn.
“My eldest, Zaeem, is also extremely talented. They’ll both carry INDTV forward with ease. ”
The men gave polite laughs, and I couldn’t stop glancing at Zeraiah. Ignored, as he had been when he approached earlier.
Mama Nadine looked like she wanted to say something, but Zioh spoke first. “Zeraiah got a perfect score in France. Something neither Mas Zaeem nor I could ever do.” His tone was light as he gestured toward his younger brother, who stood behind their mother.
“Do you know Zeraiah won France’s national championship?
” He went on. “And he speaks a bunch of languages, Japanese, for example, and now he’s learning German.
Even Zaeem and I can’t do that.” Zioh gave a small shrug, but his tone went firm.
“If anyone deserves to be called exceptional, it’s Zeraiah, Dad.
” His words silenced everyone, and I turned to Zeraiah, seeing the tremor in his gaze.
Without another word, Zioh grabbed my hand and pulled me away.
? ── * ── ?
Present
My mind kept replaying past memories, digging them up and spinning them, as if the reality I faced mocked me for how warm our past had been.
It was as if I were looking at a different person.
As if I no longer recognized the one above me.
The soft smile, the warm, sparkling gaze, all gone. Replaced with… with…
Cold, empty, sharp eyes.
“You disgust me, Sophie.” Zioh’s voice echoed after he had broken our connection seconds ago. His gaze stabbed into me, and his body was taut. He kept shaking his head, as if regretting what he had done.
Kissing me.
His breath was ragged, and his large frame hovered over me, pressing me down, and I was frozen beneath him, even though my mind screamed at me to do something.
Replaying every word he said, I kept searching for the right feeling, and there was something so deep inside me that made me want to scream, collapse, but I couldn’t name it, whether it was because of him or for him.
One thing was for sure, it rose to my eyes at last, making them burn with unshed tears.
When he’d kissed me, the heat surging through me tangled. I couldn’t focus on the intoxicating longing, the warmth of our reuniting lips after the beautiful night years ago, because at the same time, my brain kept screaming that this was wrong.
But…
But this was Zioh.
In the past, I never told myself to be careful around him.
I never even thought there would come a time when my brain would warn me to walk away from him.
I’d always run to him for relief, never the other way around.
Now I kept looking at him, because I kept waiting for the old warm gaze to come back. It didn’t.
His elbows braced beside my head, his eyes locked into mine, fusing into one. Silence stretched long, and our breath filled the air.
Zioh moved, brushing away the smudged lipstick at the corner of my lips. His eyes drilled into mine, voice low and rough. “Even when I heard someone utter your name... it feels like hell.” It already felt like hell to me, too. Hearing you say that…
I forced them back, the ache in my chest, the tightness in my throat. The sobs were rising, demanding escape, but I caged them inside until my jaw hurt from clenching.
His whisper rasped against me.