The kopitiam was louder now.
The sky outside had fully welcomed the morning, sunlight spilling through the open front of the shop and catching on glass cups, metal kettles, and the thin smoke rising from hot plates. The place was crowded with early risers—fishermen still smelling faintly of the sea, elderly couples sharing breakfast in comfortable silence, workers stopping by before their shifts began.
The clinking of cups and spoons blended with laughter, chatter, and the rhythmic calling of orders from behind the counter.
Haya sat quietly, a warm cup of tea in his hands.
Across the table, Zul was already halfway through his second plate, chewing noisily and leaning back in his chair like he owned the place.
"Man…!" Zul suddenly exclaimed, slamming his palm lightly on the table. "It's really just been two days since school ended."
Danish chuckled, stirring his coffee. "Feels weird, doesn't it?"
"Yeah," Zul continued, shaking his head. "Like… it still feels like school holidays. Just longer ones."
Haya glanced around the table. No uniforms. No schedules. No bells ringing in the distance.
Just them.
"It does feel different," Danish said thoughtfully. "Thinking back… all those homework, group projects…" He laughed softly. "Kinda makes me miss those days."
Zul raised an eyebrow. "You miss homework?"
"No," Danish replied quickly. "I miss skipping classes to go events."
Amar, who had been quietly eating his toast, looked up with interest. "What events?"
Before Danish could answer, Haya spoke up, his voice calm but certain.
"Some kind of innovation competition, right?"
Danish blinked, then smiled. "Yeah. That one."
"You still remember?" Danish said, surprised. "I appreciate that."
Haya shrugged lightly. "Its normal for me ."
Danish leaned back in his chair, eyes drifting upward as if replaying the memory.
"That was probably my most precious memory from high school," he said slowly.
"Even though we were tired… and honestly terrified to present in front of that crowd…"
He smiled.
"Each of us was bonded. We went through it together."
Zul tilted his head. "Sounds exhausting."
"It was," Danish admitted. "But it turned out to be really fun."
There was a small pause.
Then Zul grinned mischievously.
"Ehhhh… did you get any prize though?"
Haya smirked faintly. "They did. Wasn't it about RM500, Danish?"
Zul nearly choked. "WHAT?! That's a lot!"
"I think so," Danish replied.
Zul slammed his hand on the table again. "Haih! Even that tournament I won only gave my team RM200!"
"That was a huge event, you know," Haya said calmly.
"WELL," Zul shot back, pointing at him, "maybe it's because you WON THIRD PLACE."
"Hey! That hurts, you know!" Zul protested. "We did all we could!"
They burst into laughter.
"Yeah, yeah," Haya said, shaking his head, a small smile slipping through.
Amar watched them quietly, an amused expression on his face.
"To think all three of you have such different stories," he said after a moment.
"I always thought you guys clung to each other all the time in school."
Zul grinned. Danish smiled. Haya stayed quiet.
"As for me," Amar continued, leaning back slightly, "I clung to my best friend. We did everything together—lunch, studying, camping, sports. You name it, we tried it."
"Even part-time jobs," he added.
"Ehhh, that's cool," Zul said genuinely.
"But now," Amar said softly, "we've gone different paths."
He shrugged. "What can I say? Everyone has their own goals."
Zul suddenly leaned toward Haya with a teasing grin.
"Well then, Haya," he said dramatically, "don't cry when I'm not around. You gotta make your own frieeeendssss."
Haya frowned. "Why do you say that like I can't make friends?"
"Now, now, Zul," Danish said, trying to calm him. "Don't say it like that."
"Well, I'm just saying the truth," Zul replied.
"All his friends were just our friends who coincidentally came to know Haya."
"Well… that's kinda right, but—" Danish hesitated.
"Ugh…" Haya groaned, rubbing his temple.
Amar laughed softly.
"Well, if you look at the bright side," he said, "I think Haya has some kind of energy. Something that makes people want to befriend him."
Danish nodded. "Yeah. Now that you mention it, we do think so."
Zul leaned closer. "So what's your secret, huh, Haya?"
Haya blinked. "Why are you asking me? As if I'd know."
Amar and Danish laughed.
For a moment, everything felt light.
Almost lifted.
The plates were nearly empty.
Only crumbs remained. The steam from their drinks had thinned, disappearing into the warm morning air. Around them, the kopitiam was still crowded — fishermen finishing breakfast, workers speaking loudly, chairs scraping against tiles.
But at their table, a quiet had formed.
Amar leaned slightly forward.
"Haya," he said gently.
Haya looked up.
"You're the only one who hasn't said anything yet. About your HIGH SCHOOL LIFE , I mean."
A moment of silence was created from that.
Zul shifted in his seat.
"What's with you? Just say something already."
Before the tension could stretch any further—
Smack.
Danish hit the back of Zul's head.
"Shuuuuttt," Danish whispered.
"Ow—what was that for?" Zul grumbled.
Amar remained calm.
"We will wait until you say something," Ammar said.
"It's not that I want to know everything. You can keep it if it really isn't us you want to tell the story with."
"Yeah, we'll wait too," Danish added.
"We got plenty of time anyway," Zul said, softer now. "Besides… what is it that's so difficult to say? Just say anything you want."
Haya stared at the table.
He couldn't think of anything to say.
His throat felt dry.
He searched through his memories — classrooms, exam halls, empty corridors, afternoons that felt exactly like the day before. The more he looked back, the more everything blended together.
He had done nothing impressive.
No grand achievements.
No unforgettable victories.
No loud, shining moments.
His high school life felt like a loop without anything out of the ordinary.
Wake up.
Attend class.
Return home.
Repeat.
After throwing back all of his memories again and again, he tried to find something — anything — that could be cherished.
Then he spoke.
"My high school life wasn't bad," he said slowly.
"It was… calming. Comforting."
He paused briefly.
"Though it is calming, comforting… I guess that's all that I can cherish. And for that, I got nothing to tell."
The others stayed quiet.
"There is no story that I made," Haya continued, his voice steady but distant.
"Thus, there is no story for me to tell."
His fingers tightened slightly against the edge of the table.
"Thinking back… I think I have been holding back."
He didn't know why he said that. But it felt true.
"Or maybe I'm stuck to something."
The words hung heavier than he expected.
"For now… all that I can say was that."
He gave a faint, self-conscious smile.
"Wasn't that interesting, right?"
Zul opened his mouth but stopped himself.
"Haih…" Haya exhaled softly.
For a moment, no one spoke.
The noise of the kopitiam filled the gap — laughter from another table, the clink of glass cups.
Amar looked at him carefully, not with pity, but with understanding.
" well i think there is but you just didn't realise it yet ," Ammar said quietly.
Danish nodded. "Yeah. even if its repeated every day must have something different for each of them right ?."
Zul scratched his head. "Humm… days as if in a loop huh? ."
Haya didn't answer.
Because deep down, he knew there probably was.
It just hadn't surfaced yet.
And the weight inside him — though slightly shifted — remained
"Well… at least you said something."
Zul suddenly broke the lingering heaviness.
"Good job!" he added, giving Haya an exaggerated thumbs-up.
Haya stared at him with a completely unimpressed expression.
A blank, unamused face.
Danish, who had just lifted his cup to drink, nearly choked as he held back his laughter.
"You don't have to make that face ," Danish teased.
Before Haya could respond—
A ringtone pierced through the air.
All of them froze.
Slowly, they turned toward Amar.
He glanced at his phone screen.
"Mom."
He answered immediately.
"Yeah, hello. Mom?"
On the other side, their mother's voice came through clearly.
"Where have you all been? I have prepared breakfast for all of you."
Ammar blinked.
"Ehh… sorry, but didn't I already tell you that we were going to eat breakfast outside?"
A short pause.
"Is that so? I don't remember that," she replied.
"Yes, didn't I tell you this morning?" Amar insisted, glancing at the others for support.
They quickly looked away.
"Then who is going to finish all of this?" she asked.
Amar hesitated.
"Hummm… I really wanted to eat with you all though," she added, her voice softer.
Amar sighed lightly. "It's okay. We'll eat it after we come back."
Suddenly another voice jumped in.
"Huhuhuhu… I didn't know Big Bro grew up to be someone who makes their mom cry."
"Inari," Ammar muttered.
The boys burst into silent laughter.
"Well then," their mother continued, "be sure to come before it's noon. I'll be waiting."
Then the call ended.
Amar slowly lowered his phone.
All three of them stared at him like he had just committed a crime.
"Well… we really didn't say anything to her, did we?" Zul said carefully. "Except for you, Ammar."
"Yeah…" Haya and Danish added at the same time.
Ammar sighed. "Let's go. We need to get going."
"Yeah," the three of them agreed.
After Ammar paid the bill, they stepped out of the kopitiam and began walking back home.
The morning had fully awakened now. The sun was higher, warming the road beneath their feet. The village noises were louder, livelier.
"It sure is hot, don't you think?" Zul complained, fanning himself dramatically.
"Nah," Danish replied. "This is just the right warmth of the morning."
"Even if you say that, Danish," Haya added calmly, "there's no way that guy is going to understand."
Zul turned sharply. "What did you just say?!"
"Not to mention," Haya continued without looking at him, "all you did during the holidays was pull all-nighters playing games. Am I right?"
Zul gasped in offense.
"Even though I did that… at least I got to see the sun rising before going to bed, okay?"
"That is not something to be proud of, don't you think?" Ammar said flatly.
"Wait— I thought you were on my side, Ammar!" Zul said, making an exaggerated crying face.
The three of them burst into laughter.
They continued walking, teasing one another, their shadows stretching long across the road.
And before they realized it, they were home.
"Hey, boys!" their mother called out brightly. "Come here, quick! There's still lots of food!"
"OKAY!" all four of them replied at once.
They walked over and sat down in a loose circle under the shade. The ground was warm, but the breeze beneath the tree was gentle and comfortable.
"Didn't you say you already ate?" their mother asked suspiciously.
"Second breakfast," Danish answered calmly.
"Very important meal," Ammar added with a nod.
Zul didn't say anything. He was already reaching for another piece of fried chicken.
Haya quietly took a plate as well.
They ate again.
The laughter returned easily — overlapping conversations, light teasing, small arguments about who finished what. It felt noisy, alive, familiar.
After finishing the food, Zul leaned back dramatically and placed both hands over his stomach.
"Huh… I think my stomach might explode," he groaned, rubbing his now very obvious bulging belly.
"That's probably because you ate too much earlier at the café, didn't you?" Annis replied casually.
Zul froze.
"How did you know that?"
Annis raised an eyebrow. "How long do you think I've known you?"
Zul blinked. "Huuuhh…?"
"There's no way this guy would remember that," Haya said, shaking his head at Zul.
"SO are you, Haya," he replied lightly. "You sure don't remember anything precious, don't you?"
It sounded like a joke.
It was said like a joke.
But something about the way she said it made Haya pause.
"What's that supposed to mea—"
"Ouch! What are you pinching me for?!" Zul yelped suddenly.
Annis pulled her hand back innocently. "You talk too much."
Laughter broke out again.
Their mother smiled warmly. "Haha… lively as always, aren't you all?"
"Ah!"
Their mother suddenly clapped her hands lightly.
Everyone looked at her.
"Now I remember something."
"What is it, Mom?" Ammar asked.
She looked around the yard, eyes scanning the wide space beneath the old tree.
"I think I want to build an open hut here," she said excitedly. "Since all of us love to have picnics outside."
Her gaze softened.
"Help me make one."
Ammar smiled immediately. "If that's what you want, I can help."
"That's a good idea," Danish added.
"We'll help with anything too," Zul said quickly. Annis and Hanna nodded in agreement.
The energy shifted again — lively, eager.
But Haya remained silent.
He sat slightly apart from the circle now, his fingers tracing the grass absentmindedly, eyes fixed somewhere beyond the yard.
"Huh, what about you, Haya?" their mother asked.
"Yeah, you've been silent for a while," Inari added.
Haya blinked, returning to the present.
"Well…" he began slowly, "I think just adding benches and carpet grass would be better. If we look at how much it's going to cost."
He spoke calmly, logically.
"Ehhh… but I really want to have a hut here," their mother insisted, almost pouting.
"Hump. Well, don't take my opinion too hard, Mom," Haya replied softly.
"Yeah, Mom," Ammar supported gently.
Their mother crossed her arms, pretending to think very seriously.
"Ha! What if we just make both of it?" she declared proudly. "Your idea and mine, Haya."
Haya looked up quickly. "Wait, Mo—"
"We can do that," Ammar cut in, placing a firm but warm hand on Haya's shoulder.
He gave him a small look.
Not forcing.
Just reassuring.
"Haihs…" Haya exhaled.
"My goodness, look at the sun," their mother suddenly said, shading her eyes. "It's already noon, isn't it? Let's go inside, shall we?"
"Okay, let's clean up and go inside," she instructed.
Everyone stood up and began gathering plates and containers.
Inari, however, slowly stepped backward.
Very slowly.
Almost successfully escaping toward the house.
"Inari!" their mother called out sharply. "Would you mind helping us clean this?"
Inari froze.
"Huh?!..."
"And you should do the dishes later."
"Wait, Mom, but that's not fai—"
"Um um um," their mother cut her off, shaking her finger.
"Pfft—" Haya quickly covered his mouth, trying to hold in his laughter.
"Mom, look at him!" Inari pointed accusingly.
"Inari…!" their mother warned again.
"…Okay," Inari muttered dramatically.
The yard filled with small complaints, teasing remarks, and scattered laughter as they finished cleaning up.
Soon, everything was back in place.
The mats were folded.
The plates were stacked.
The yard returned to quiet.
One by one, they stepped inside