Anonymous J

Part One • Honesty

“Do you think Nadia’s cheating on me?”

Fingers hovering over the keyboard, my eyes swivel to him. “Where’s this coming from?”

Matthew shrugs in a nonchalant manner but his downcast gaze and pulled down lips betray him. “She’s just… Been busy lately.”

“Well, midterms are coming up.” As the words leave my mouth, I cringe a little. From the straight-lipped look he gives me, he also knows that’s bull.

Anyone who knows Nadia is certain she’d rather spend her nights partying than stress over exams for a long period. She’s the type to cram the night before and barely pass.

His shoulders slump.

“I mean, just ‘cause she’s been busy, it doesn’t mean she’s cheating or anything like that. Maybe she has a lot going on these days.”

“Like what?”

I give him a sideways glance. “If you don’t know, how am I supposed to have a clue?”

He turns away and mutters an apology.

Shutting my eyes in annoyance, partially with myself for stupidly snapping at him, I open my eyes and quickly face him fully. “Hey, isn’t your birthday coming up? What if she’s just planning something?”

“My birthday was last month.”

I purse my lips as the realisation hits. “Oh, right. Sorry.”

He sighs, running a hand through his overgrown golden buzzcut. “It’s fine. I’m probably just overthinking things. . .” His eyes suddenly light up as he raises his head, “you know what? Maybe she is planning for my birthday next year. Yeah, that makes sense.”

I stop myself from saying anything as I watch him stand up and sling his bag over his shoulder, already seeming happier at the conclusion he arrived at. Sometimes I envy his carefreeness, it always amazes me how quickly and easily he can take his mind off any worries that come to him.

“Thanks for letting me vent,” he eases on a smile. “I’ve got a shift coming up, so I’ll see you later.”

“Uh, alright,” I nod, “see you.”

Sharing a little wave with him, he leaves me alone at the bench, surrounded by my work and a seemingly endless stretch of grass before me. Slight breeze blows my hair into my face, along with a piece of paper I had been doodling on. I snatch it out of my face and pass it a glare. Looking back, I catch sight of his back quickly making way through the car park and into the building. “Vent?” I mutter, facing my laptop screen, “when did he vent?”

Only allowing me a couple of minutes of silence, thunderous beats of music fill the area. I turn to see the iconic Barbie pink convertible zoom down the street, recklessly parking in one motion, barely missing a car nearby. As the engine dies along with the music, it’s as if the whole world goes into standby, waiting with bated breath for her entrance.

With the driver’s door pushed open, I watch a pair of toned legs slip out, decorated with brown platform stilettoes. Her body wrapped in the usual halter top and mini skirt comes out. Flicking her long silky black hair over her shoulder, she loudly slams the door and locks her car. Even with half her face covered by round shades and from this distance, I notice when her gaze fixes onto me. Strutting along the car park, exuding that wild and expensive vibe, Nadia Malik stands before me.