At that time, the Covid-19 pandemic hadn't yet arrived. It was a full year before Mei-mei and Nazma would have their huge fight about social media.
Nazma stood alone beside the stream that flowed in front of her school.
She gazed blankly at the flowing water, clutching her book and pen. She endured all alone there.
Nasya... I miss Nasya. I'm so sad. Why did you leave me? Why did you go when I still didn't understand all those things?
She sat by the stream, staring at the flowing water.
Her chest felt tight, yet no tears came. The school was quiet, and she was glad no one could see her.
The river water flowed calmly, its small ripples passing over the stones on the surface. She suddenly remembered something. People say you can send feelings to someone by writing a letter in a bottle.
Nazma immediately sat down, opened her book, and began to write.
[Nasya. How are you? I miss you. When are you coming to play at my house again? I don't have friends as good as you. They are mean. I hope you are doing well. I'm friends with Mei-mei and April now, Nas. Isn't that great? You know they used to bully me in kindergarten. But now we are three best friends. Still, I only want you. Why did you leave me alone so quickly? I was so happy when I found out we were going to the same school. ]
After finishing, Nazma folded the paper and slipped it into a green bottle she had found.
Days bled into one another until Nazma found herself sitting inside the classroom, a fresh sheet of paper before her.
[Nazma ♥ Nasya
Other than that, my only friends are books and tears. ]
Nazma stared intently at the writing, as if speaking to someone who wasn't there, who was far away somewhere. She folded the paper in half, intending to keep it, yet a sudden breeze from the window snatched the paper and blew it onto the floor.
Mei-mei, who had just walked by sweeping, saw the scrap of paper and picked it up without suspicion. A small smile appeared on her face; she thought it was Nazma's doodles about lessons or maybe a little poem they usually shared.
The crinkle of the paper sounded like a thunderclap in the quiet class. Her eyes scanned the first line, then stopped. The small smile on her lips didn't vanish instantly.
It froze, flickering for a second like a dying candle before finally fading into a cold, pale expression.
The name written there ... wasn't hers. It wasn't Mei-mei.
Mei-mei stopped breathing for a second. Her eyes narrowed, scanning the name over and over until her hands began to shake. She gripped the edges of the paper, wrinkling it as the color drained from her face. Her gaze stayed locked on the word "Nasya," as if waiting for the name to turn into her own.
Nazma, seeing Mei-mei frozen with the paper in her hand, felt their eyes meet for a moment—Mei-mei with tear-filled eyes suppressing the pain, and Nazma with a pale face, shocked, realizing she had hurt her friend.
Nazma stayed where she was, her heart sinking with every second of Mei-mei's silence. She waited for a laugh, for a joke about her messy handwriting, or anything. Instead, Mei-mei didn't move. She didn't even seem to breathe.
Mei-mei stepped closer to Nazma, looked down, and slowly sank to the floor, clutching the paper as if it were the only thing keeping her upright.
Her grip tightened on the small scrap until her knuckles turned white.
She tried to regulate her breathing while her shoulders began to tremble, a silent storm brewing beneath the surface.
Mei-mei didn't yell. Her voice came out low and gravelly, almost choking in her throat. She gazed at Nazma as the muscles of her eyes grew increasingly unstable, each word forced out with a heavy, trembling pause.
"So..." she began, her breath hitching. "Even when you're breaking, I'm still a stranger to you?"
Then, the silence snapped. Mei-mei's chest hitched, her eyes bloodshot and brimming with tears. A single tear hit the paper, darkening the ink of Nasya's name.
Her chest began to heave, her breathing coming in shallow, jagged gasps. She was trying to swallow a scream that was too massive for her throat to let out.
"YES, YES, YES! I GET IT!" Mei-mei snapped her head up, her face flushing deep red and the veins in her neck straining. She exploded. Her voice broke, hitting a sharp, high pitch that slammed against the quiet classroom walls. Her breath came in short, rapid gasps, like she had just finished a long run.
"I'M NOTHING COMPARED TO NASYA! I NEVER WAS!"
Nazma's eyes widened. Mei-mei was screaming hysterically at her. Her hands trembled, seeing the girl crying in front of her.
Nazma sat bolt upright, her fingers digging into her own knees. She tried to stand; her legs refused to move. She could only open and close her mouth without a single word escaping. Her tongue felt thick and useless.
"I … I'm sorry."
Nazma tried to speak, but she choked on her own breath. A bitter taste sat at the back of her throat. She took a deep breath, trying to explain, but the air stayed trapped in her chest, escaping only as a hollow sigh.
I didn't actually do anything wrong, a small part of her whispered. Why am I the one apologizing?
"You… you don't even care, do you?" Mei-mei's voice trembled. She looked away, her fingers twisting the fabric of her skirt with a desperate intensity.
"I … I'm sorry," Nazma repeated, her chest tightening. She reached out—heavy, stiff, frozen—before choosing to pull her hand back, while Mei-mei stood paralyzed by the look of betrayal on her friend's face.
After everything Mei-mei had done, did it really mean nothing compared to a memory?
A long, suffocating silence settled between them.
Should I explain? Nazma thought. Could I even find the words to describe this... thing I feel with Nasya?
Before she could find her voice, Mei-mei choosing to walk away from Nazma and setting the broom aside; her desire to sweep had vanished. She left without another word, her footsteps echoing down the hall.
Nazma tucked her chin deep against her chest. She couldn't bring herself to look at Mei-mei's bloodshot eyes. Every time she heard a sob, Nazma's shoulders slumped lower, and she began twisting the hem of her shirt until her clothes were rumpled.
It's my fault, she realized, her fingers unconsciously twisting the hem of her shirt. I'm a terrible friend. Mei-mei has been so good to me. But, I can't just push aside my feelings for Nasya.
I just can't... She can't replace Nasya in my heart. No one. No one can replace Nasya yet.
Nazma looked down at the floor. There, the paper lay crumpled and damp—stained by a single tear from one of the few friends she had left. She didn't pick it up. She left it there in the dirt, a small, white grave for a friendship that hadn't even realized it was dying.