The mamak* was crowded in the way only good mamaks could be.
(Mamak = open air eatery famous in Malaysia for local and indian fusion cuisine)

Plastic tables filled every inch of pavement. Ceiling fans turned lazily above open-air seating. Wrestling highlights played on a mounted television no one was fully watching. The air smelled of curry, fried dough, and judgment.

Qinny hadn't realized how hungry she was until a waiter dropped two glasses of iced Milo onto the table.

"I didn't order this," she said.

"I did," Dorian replied.

"I don't like Milo."

He blinked. "That's insane."

"I said what I said."

He pushed one glass toward himself.

"Good. More for me."

She stole it immediately.

Dorian stared.

"You're difficult."

"You're slow."

He ordered for them before she could protest.

Two roti canai. One maggi goreng. Extra dhal. Teh tarik for her, despite her denial. Another Milo for himself because he claimed she was untrustworthy.

It should have felt strange; sitting across from the man she'd kissed in a storage room less than twenty-four hours ago. 

Instead, it felt dangerously easy.

That was worse.

"So," Dorian said, leaning back. "How did you and Brennen start?"

Qinny narrowed her eyes.

"Why the sudden question?"

"Profile building."

She laughed. "So this is nothing personal? Just business?"

"Exactly that."

She traced condensation on the glass.

"To keep it short, we went to the same high school. Same tuition center first. Swayed me by always saving me a good seat in class."

"Strategic."

"He was annoying."

"And yet."

"And yet," she admitted, smiling faintly, "He remembered every little thing. My favorite snacks. Exam dates. How I love going to the beach... and the fact I hate noisy chewing."

Dorian stopped chewing.

She glared.

"You're disgusting."

He swallowed with theatrical dignity.

"So he studied you."

"He cared," Qinny corrected automatically.

The words hung there.

Past tense would have hurt less.

Dorian noticed but didn't say it.

He tore a piece of roti.

"So how do you feel now?"

He asked nonchalantly. Qinny looked down.

"I don't know what I feel."

"Sure."

"What does that mean?"

"It means people only say 'I don't know' when the answer is ugly."

She hated that he was right.

Before she could retaliate, his phone buzzed.

He glanced down.

Then slid it face-up between them.

Hui Yi

Babyyy I'm done and so so tired 😩 wish u were hereee

Qinny nearly choked on tea.

"She's texting you while she's with my boyfriend?"

"Multitasking at its best."

Her own phone lit up seconds later.

My Love ❤️

Coach killed us tonight, babe. Can barely walk 😭

Dorian slowly chewed.

"Can he barely walk," he asked, "or is he walking someone home?"

Qinny slapped the table laughing.

A few nearby diners turned.

She covered her face.

"This is evil."

"This is data."

They compared timestamps.

Both messages sent at 7:41 p.m.

Both full of fake exhaustion.

Both insulting.

Dorian opened Notes app.

Exhibit A: Coordinated lying with emojis.

"You document emojis?"

"Patterns matter."

"You're terrifying."

"Thank you."

For several minutes they enjoyed their mamak session in peaceful greed.

Qinny hadn't laughed this much in months.

That realization hit suddenly and sharply.

She slowed.

Dorian noticed immediately.

"What."

"Nothing."

"You made the sad face."

"I do not have a sad face."

"You have three. Mild sad. Thinking sad. Catastrophic sad."

She hated that he'd already categorized them.

"I just..." She exhaled. "I used to do this with Brennen."

"Mamak?"

"After late classes. We'd split one roti because we were broke."

Dorian nodded once.

"And now?"

"And now I'm here with my boyfriend's girlfriend's boyfriend."

He considered it.

"Bit of a messy title, but understandable."

She laughed despite herself.

Then the laughter faded.

"Do you think we're bad people?"

His expression changed slightly.

"For meeting?"

"For this." She gestured between them. "Laughing. Eating. Plotting."

"We were made side characters in our own relationships," he said. "I'm okay stealing screen time back."

"That's not an answer."

"It's the only one I have tonight. Other than how bomb this roti and milo combo is."

She chuckled softly at his comment. The television erupted as someone won the wrestling match. Cheers rose around them.

Life continuing, indifferent.

Qinny looked at him under fluorescent lights and fan shadows.

"Do you always talk like this?"

"Some call it direct. I call it time efficient."

"That claim is criminal."

"It's the truth. I don't sugarcoat... unless I really have to."

She smiled into her tea.

"And on what occasion would that be-" Then froze.

Across the road, headlights slowed.

A familiar black hatchback; it was Brennen's car.

It rolled past the mamak.

Inside, Brennen drove one-handed. The other probably resting on Yris.

Yris sat in the passenger seat laughing at something on his phone.

Neither noticed the two people staring from across the street.

Qinny went cold.

Dorian's jaw flexed once.

The car passed.

Gone.

Silence at the table.

The proof hurt differently when it moved.

When it breathed.

When it laughed.

Qinny stood so abruptly her chair scraped hard.

"I need air."

She walked fast around the side alley beside the restaurant before tears could embarrass her publicly.

The alley smelled like rainwater and cigarettes.

She pressed both palms to the wall and breathed.

One.

Two.

Three- Footsteps behind her.

Then quiet.

Not touching.

Just there.

"I'm not crying," she said.

"Your shoulders disagree."

She laughed once, brokenly.

Then cried anyway.

Not loud.

Not dramatic.

The exhausted kind.

Dorian stepped beside her.

Still not touching.

"Do you know what's stupid?" she whispered.

"Many things. Narrow it down."

"I still wanted it to be a misunderstanding."

He closed his eyes briefly.

"That makes the two of us."

She wiped her face angrily.

"I hate that this hurts more every time."

"That's normal."

"It should get easier."

"It's fresh," he said softly. "You're grieving the relationship while it's still technically alive."

That sentence broke something open.

She turned and hit his chest once.

Lightly. Uselessly.

"This sucks."

"I know."

She hit him again.

"You're annoyingly calm."

"I'm dissociating beautifully."

That made her laugh through tears.

He smiled faintly.

Then, carefully, he opened one arm.

Not forcing.

Just offering.

Qinny stepped into it before pride could intervene.

His embrace was warm, steady, infuriatingly safe.

She buried her face in his shoulder.

"I hate them."

"I know."

"I hate that I still love him."

"I know."

"I hate that your shirt smells nice."

He paused.

"Unexpected direction, but appreciated."

She laughed into him.

His chin rested lightly on her hair.

Too intimate.

Too easy.

Too dangerous.

When she finally stepped back, neither moved far.

Streetlight gold between them.

His hand still hovering near her waist before he seemed to notice and withdrew it.

"We need more proof," he said quietly.

"Yes."

"And boundaries."

"Yes."

"And maybe less breakdowns in alleys."

She looked at him.

"Agreed."

A beat.

Then both glanced away.

Neither sounded convincing.

As they returned to the table, Qinny's phone buzzed again.

My Love ❤️

Miss you. Wish you were here.

She stared at it.

Then slowly looked up at Dorian.

"I need to change his contact name."

And so she did. Changed it from My Love to just Brennen with a red heart.

"Better." She muttered. Then when she looked at Dorian, He was already smiling.

"By the way," he said. "Now I have ideas."

Uh oh, she thought to herself. 

This was about to get worse.