Page 47 of Behind Frenemy Lines

THREE WEEKS LATER

Kriya

I tried to argue with Zuri when she said she’d see me off at the airport: “No need lah. It’s two hours out of your day.”

“Not like I have anything else to do what,” she said. “We can chit-chat.”

Which was what we did, at first. Zuri told me about the acar she’d made the other day and her adventures on dating apps. I told her about the kdrama I was watching and Amma’s campaign to get me to lose weight by drinking a cup of bunga telang tea every day.

Zuri grimaced. “Are you going to be OK living with her for weeks? How long has it been since you spent that much time under the same roof with your parents?”

“I was eighteen the last time,” I admitted. “It’ll be fine. I’ll run away and visit friends in KL if it gets too much. It’s only until I figure out what’s happening on the job front anyway.”

I was planning to stay with my parents in Ipoh for a few weeks after the Sanson interview in Hong Kong—since I was between jobs, there was no reason I had to stay in London.

I had a feeling Sanson would make an offer, and I would take it (“You are destined for this role,” Rosalind had said, with her usual predilection for understatement).

But I’d reached out to a recruiter who specialised in placing English-qualified lawyers in the region anyway.

I figured there was no harm in keeping my options open.

“I might have to fly back to Hong Kong for more interviews, for all you know,” I said.

Zuri glanced around. The carriage was fairly quiet—the nearest person was sat two empty seats away, a beefy guy wearing headphones, from which the strains of a Taylor Swift song could faintly be heard. She lowered her voice. “Have you heard back from Ket Hau?”

“He said he contacted the firm, sent them some documents. Apparently they confirmed receipt, but I don’t know the outcome.” I paused. “I got a message from Charles, actually. But not about, you know, the client issue. He said Arthur’s left the firm.”

The fact I’d resigned had come as a bombshell to my friend circle.

Explaining the reason why had made them so raucous in their indignation that we’d come close to getting kicked out of our favourite Korean restaurant, but Zuri now knew everything Arthur had done since I’d moved with him to Swithin Watkins.

“He got fired?” she said, her eyes widening. “Because of what you told HR?”

“Charles didn’t go into the details. He only said Arthur’s left.” I was relieved to note that I didn’t feel a twinge of guilt, saying it.

It was strange: After resigning and reporting Arthur to HR, the thought of him and how he’d treated me made me furious, as it had never done before. I kept remembering things he’d said and done, that I’d accepted at the time, and getting mad about them in retrospect.

It was as though I’d blocked that capacity for anger before, in order to survive our relationship. It was only now it was over that I could see how dysfunctional it had been.

“I hope he has to sell all his properties and ends up in a dead-end job where his boss bullies him,” said Zuri.

“He’ll probably just move to another firm,” I said.

“Ugh.” Zuri scowled. “What else did Kawan Baik say?”

I shrugged. “That was it. He probably can’t say anything about the client issue.” I sighed. “I’ll be lucky if he doesn’t report me to the SRA for breaching confidentiality.”

“You didn’t break confidentiality. They all assumed Helen Daley was going to get sued already.”

I made a noncommittal noise. I didn’t regret anything I’d said or done, but it probably was more than I should have. But I didn’t want Zuri worrying about it.

“Did you reply to Charles?” said Zuri. “What did you say?”

“‘Thank you’ lah. What else is there to say?”

“Does he know you’re going to Hong Kong?”

I nodded. “Sanson asked me to go the day I quit, so I mentioned it to him.”

Zuri and I had been friends for so long that words were not really essential to our communication. I could sense that she was dying to say something.

“What is it?” I said.

“Nothing,” said Zuri. After a moment: “I thought he was a really nice guy, Charles.”

“He is a really nice guy.”

Zuri gave me a sidelong look. “So you do like him?”

There was no point denying it, at this stage. It didn’t make much difference one way or another.

“Yeah. But it’s not going to work, is it?” I leaned back in my seat, glaring at the advertisement for sleeping pills above the window opposite me. “I don’t know why Fate has to do me like this. I have to meet someone nice right when I might be leaving the country.”

“You don’t have to leave. You could get another job here what.”

I had thought about this. “Yeah. But you know, I decided to stay in London for Tom. And I moved to Swithin Watkins for Arthur. I don’t want to make another big career decision for a guy, you know?

This opportunity at Sanson could really work out for me.

And then, when I come back to London—if I come back—I want it to be on my own terms. Because it makes sense for me. ”

“I can see the logic,” said Zuri. “But Charles could move, in that case. He’s from Hong Kong, right? He could get a job there.”

I gave her a look.

Zuri said, “What? What’s so wrong with that? Might as well let the guy chase you for once.”

“OK, I’ll just suggest that to him, shall I?”

“Well, maybe you should!”

“What, tell a guy I’ve known for two months he should move to Hong Kong so we can be together?”

“You’ve known Kawan Baik for years. Anyway,” said Zuri, before I could interject, “I’m not saying go propose to the guy or what. But you don’t need to shut things down because you’re worried about the distance. You could do long-distance.”

I had also thought about this. Over the past couple of weeks, I’d spent a lot of mental energy on Charles, how I felt about him and what I should do about that. When I’d first seen the notification of his WhatsApp message, my heart had leapt.

Then I’d read it. Charles had maintained a dampeningly professional tone:

I thought you should know that Arthur has left the firm. Hope all’s well with you.

I’d seen him be more informal in emails to colleagues and clients he’d never spoken to before. That weekend together in my flat might never have happened.

But then again, I’d been the one to push him away, after that last dinner. And the reasons I’d given him then hadn’t changed.

“I’m not up for a long-distance relationship,” I said. “Not after Tom.”

“The whole point of Kawan Baik is he’s not Tom,” said Zuri. “We wouldn’t have signed off on him if he was Tom.”

“You hung out with Charles for, like, an hour max!”

“Yeah, but I got a good feeling from him,” said Zuri. “I liked the way he said your name.”

Of all the arguments for Charles Zuri might have put forward, I hadn’t been expecting that. “How did he say my name?”

“You know. Like it was a little treat that he got to say it,” said Zuri. “It was cute. You guys were so cute. The way you kept looking at each other. It was more like you were boyfriend-girlfriend roleplaying being colleagues, rather than the other way around.”

This shut me up.

Zuri said, “Just because you couldn’t trust Tom doesn’t mean nobody else is trustworthy. You have to leave space for life to surprise you.”

I stared at the beefy Swiftie’s feet. He was wearing bright red trainers.

“If Charles is interested, he could say so,” I muttered. “He’s got my number.”

“And he texted you, no? And all you said was ‘thank you.’”

“Yeah, because he was so standoffish!”

Zuri held out her hand. “Show me the message.”

I passed her my phone. What did I have to lose? It wasn’t like I had any dignity left with Zuri.

Having reviewed the exchange, she said, “OK. I can see your dilemma. But look at it this way. You left the firm because your boss hit on you—”

“And because we were advising the guy who embezzled billions from our country.”

“Yeah, OK, that too. But maybe Kawan Baik doesn’t want to pressure you, you know?” said Zuri. “I mean, if you’re a decent guy, that’s what you’re going to be thinking. ‘Kriya’s dealing with a lot, I don’t want to kacau her.’ How much encouragement have you given him?”

“I let him stay in my flat for three nights,” I protested.

But it was true Charles had taken his lead from me, throughout the time we’d known each other. And I’d left matters with him on an ambiguous note, the last time we saw each other. It had been, I realised, the one time he’d asked for more.

I’d been preoccupied and distracted that night, but maybe I had been a little afraid, too. My life was breaking open. I was getting more than I’d ever dreamt was possible for me. It didn’t seem reasonable to want Charles, too, much less get to keep him.

“If you want to hear from him, give him an opening lah,” said Zuri. “Give him the chance to put his case.”

She stayed with me while I checked in my bags at Heathrow, walking me to Departures. We hugged. I scanned my boarding pass, waved at Zuri, then turned and went through to security.

It took a while to get through security—the downside of travelling on a Sunday during the school summer holidays. I was stuck behind dozens of people who seemed never to have been to an airport before. But finally I was disgorged at the other end, only slightly ruffled by the experience.

I followed the signs through the maze of duty-free shopping, alone among the crowd.

I’d always enjoyed travelling by myself—that sensation of being neither here nor there, temporarily cut off from everyday reality.

I bought myself a snack, admired the bags in the Mulberry storefront—should have indulged while I was still being paid a salary—then sat down to watch the departure board.

I bit into my cookie and realised I was thinking about Charles. The way he frowned when he was concentrating. His gentleness, the smell of him, and his hands.

I didn’t believe in soulmates. There would be other people, probably, if it wasn’t Charles.

But I wanted it to be him. Maybe that was reason enough to reach out. To open the door, even if it would be safer and less complicated to keep it shut.

I took my phone out of my bag and snapped a photo of the cookie, with the bite taken out of it. The black screen of the departure board could be seen in the background, out of focus.

Not quite as good as the SW meeting room cookies

The double blue tick appeared almost instantly. I could see Charles was typing.

You’re flying to Hong Kong today?

Yes. Can you remind me what the roast goose restaurant you recommended was called?

Yat Lok.

Thanks. Hoping I manage to get there this time around.

When’s the interview with Sanson?

I told him. I hesitated, then typed:

I’m going on to Malaysia after. Not sure when I’ll be back in the UK, but maybe we could grab a coffee then?

It took a little longer for Charles to respond, this time around. I put my phone down and looked around the departure lounge as though there was anything to see that interested me more than what was happening on my phone.

The phone buzzed. I grabbed it.

Sounds like you’ll be busy. Good luck. Have a safe journey.

“Seriously?” I said aloud.

Maybe I—and all my friends—had imagined Charles’s interest. Or maybe he’d already had what he wanted from me.

Or maybe—this seemed the most likely option—he felt there was no mileage in pursuing a connection that was about to be broken off, since I was flying off that day to interview for a job thousands of miles away.

I fell back against my seat, letting out a breath.

Well. So much for that.