Chapter 14

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It has been a month since that night in Putrajaya. A month of rediscovering myself, and discovering Damia.

That is not to say I didn’t have any doubts. In fact, my heart and mind was screaming the moment I had let go those words telling her I loved her. Inside my head at the time alarm bells were ringing and I was boundering on a complete emotional meltdown. My head was screaming WHATTHEFUCKAREYOUDOING and I honestly had felt like getting up and leaving her alone to watch those fireworks.

But when Damia had put her head on my shoulder and softly said to that she loved me too, the screaming voices and the ringing alarms inside me were quelled and silenced. They never made a reappearance ever since. When she had proclaimed her reciprocation of what I felt, everything just felt… right. No other words were spoken after that; we had watched the show end, applauded the winners, and, for the first time in four years, I took a picture with a girl. Damia had taken the camera, turned it to face us and told me to smile, so I had, then she pressed the shutter and ta daa, Dhani and Damia in a picture, smiling and being happy.

When I had driven her home that night, she held my free hand in hers, caressing it gently, even when she mostly looked out the window until I dropped her off at Setiawangsa. Before she had gotten out, I kissed her hand, gently and she had smile-smirked and just said a soft “Goodbye. I’ll see you Monday.” Later that night we left each other goodnight wishes on our phones.

Even on the Monday that had followed that weekend, at work, we sort of didn’t speak to each other. We bumped into each other in the office, but all I did was nod, and she had blushed and smiled, but no words. Yet, in that silence was said everything. We had lunch together, quietly, then spent the evening together at the movies and just… being there, with one another. Her hands seemed small and delicate in mine.

But our fingers interlocked beautifully.

And the days that passed by over the past month were balmy and serene. I slept soundly at night, always feeling her love with me, and I duly hope she felt the same way every night. My dreams were sweet and I woke up every morning in anticipation of seeing her in the office.  And while at first we tried to keep hush about our new found relationship, eventually we stopped caring, and held hands in full view of the office when we left work. The guys were insanely jealous, I knew, and the girls frustrated that after four years, Dhani Ibrahim finally decided to date someone. Sharmini was happy, of course, and she was one of the first to know and congratulate us.

When I told Nissa about me and Damia she hugged me and had tears in her eyes. I had asked her why it was such a big deal. But she had remained quiet, and just said she felt happy for me.

“I really am, too, you know,” Nissa had said.

“Thank you, sis. I appreciate it,” I had said while playing with the twins.

“So what made you realize it?”

“Realize what?”

“That you were in love with her. What made you realize it?” Nissa asked.

I thought for a moment. “I’m happy whenever I’m with her.”

My Friday and Saturday nights were now no longer spent in pubs or clubs. Instead, I spent them with Damia, my girlfriend. We did a lot of stuff; hiking, cycling, shopping, or just sometimes chilling out reading books at Titiwangsa or something. I didn’t particularly care what we did, as long as we did it together. I found myself missing her the moment she’s out of my sight. When we’re walking together I could see eyes landing on her and I would feel jealous and protective. I even stopped checking out girls, and that was a strange adaptation I had to make. I wondered if she noticed the same things? Perhaps it didn’t matter.

I do realize that after four years, I am changing again. You see, despite my self professed beliefs in the romantic system, I am also smart enough to register that things change. Nissa was right; life was unpredictable. And unpredictability is sometimes beautiful, and takes on the form of a lovely woman.

I realize, now, at this moment in time, that my views on women and romance, my thoughts of it being a delusion, were, of course, shaped by the misfortunes I’ve had over the years. And I had extrapolated those misfortunes as indicators that love is a foolish affair, and that love is a state of mind for the worthy. While I had nourished and indulged my physical needs for sex voraciously these past four years, and seeing women as nothing more than as a means to an end, I had of course failed to sustain and nourish my emotional self.

So why had I let my guard down with Damia?

I really couldn’t say. It could be her beauty, but I’ve slept with and seen girls as beautiful as her. It could be that she’s smart and funny, because the last girl who was that way with me was my last ex-girlfriend. All of the others were… well, not stupid, but not smart and funny. Or maybe because I was just focused on what was below their shirts and skirts, and I didn’t bother to know their minds. It could be that I had let my guard down with Damia because she went through a terrible break-up but emerged stronger? I have no fucking idea.

All I know is that when I’m with her, I feel happy. I feel like, you know, everything is alright and there are no worries in the world. I’m speaking in cliches, but only because they’re true. She makes me appreciate companionship, and I feel her love whenever she’s with me. It’s in the way she touches my hand and laughs, and the way she speaks to me and looks into my eyes. When I’m with her, I feel serene and open, and my heart feels vulnerable, and yet, at the same time, strong and full of vitality. She is the first thing I think about in the morning and the last thing I think about at night.

And even all this I’ve said doesn’t even come close to envisioning what I feel for her. It’s the strangest sensation, and the most powerful wave of emotion I’ve felt in all my life. The love that I have for Damia goes so deep into the recesses of my heart, that even I can’t begin to fathom it’s depth. All I know is that it’s there, a pool of love I dive into at all times now.

I wonder if she feels the same. I really do wonder and I really do hope she does.

I thought about all the girls I slept with before. They had names I’ve forgotten, and faces I can’t quite place. Were there guys that loved them too? Or were they treated by all guys the way I had treated them? Did they love, did they have their hearts broken by me? Were they hoping for more than a fun night together when I had asked them out or hit on them? As I thought, I realized these were questions that I was afraid to know the answers to. Damia could have been one of them, I thought. She could have had her heart broken, or her body used just as I had used all the girls that had come before her. She could have been just another piece of this broken puzzle.

I resolved to never let her become just another piece.

It has been a month since that night in Putrajaya. A month of rediscovering myself, and discovering Damia. A month of being the happiest I’ve ever been in my life. A month of feeling this sensation that things were falling into place.

As I think these thoughts at my work-desk, my phone buzzed.

Are you daydreaming? It was from Damia.

I looked out the glass walls of my office and saw her talking to Afifah, one of the other investment bankers, a few meters away from Sharmini’s table outside my unit. She was in a deep purple hijab, a white blouse and black pants, matched to a pair of black heels. Her arms were crossed in front of her chest (inadvertently pushing her breasts up and making the white bra she was wearing a little more obvious; I still notice these things, of course, just not in a… well, that way. Not so much, anway) and I saw her phone in one hand. She was talking to Afifah but she kept stealing glances my way.

I replied. Are you stalking me?

Moments later her reply: I can stalk my boyfriend whenever I want.

I smiled. You should pay attention to your conversation with Fifa.

Damia said, You should be doing some work instead of daydreaming.

I can’t, there’s a beautiful girl outside my office that’s stalking me.

I saw her smile as she read the message, and that tinge of color tainted her cheeks. She finished her conversation with Afifa and passed by my office as she left. She pretended not to look at me. My phone buzzed again.

Is the girl that’s stalking you still there?

I replied, No, she just left. If you see her, tell her I said hello.

A few seconds later. She says hello back, and is asking if you’d like to take her out for dinner tonight.

Tip-tap-tip-tap. Tell her I’m sorry, but I’m already seeing someone.

Ting! She’s asking who is it you’re seeing.

Damia, from legal. Sorry.

Then she replied. Mengada-ngada.

I laughed.

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