Let's write with me - The Secret Desire

Chapter One

Flat in PJ

Kemboja looked helter-skelter around, harbouring her eyes through the sketchy and dingy surroundings from her streaky cab's window, wondering if she had been illegally transported into another unheard country.

This wasn't Kuala Lumpur, the vibrant city she knew, or what she saw from those many travel logs on YouTube and TikTok.

Potholes were everywhere. Kemboja had lost her count since they had left TBS. These potholes were more like vomits from the devil. She felt nauseated every time the tyres hit one of those 'acid holes'.

"Welcome to the city! Great roads, huh? The Indian Grab driver, as cordial as he sounded, made his cynical comment on the incompetency of our political leaders. His grins alone foretell a great disgust.

The screeching sound from the old brake pads and her swaying body due to the rough stop still hadn't convinced her if she was at the right address.

She glanced at her cracked screen and studied the few photos posted by the lessor. The building appeared fresh and clean, in stark contrast to the run-down, almost uninhabitable building in front of her.

"Cik, you have already arrived. I have another customer waiting," the Grab driver politely, though sounded slightly impatient, asked her to get off as soon as possible.

Hesitantly and with a big lump of doubt, she got off and paid for her ride in cash with a couple of red notes.

It was indeed a stupendously expensive ride, but at least she wouldn't burden herself with the obligation to tip. If she had paid the ride from the app and the prompt to tip popped on the screen, she probably had already lost a couple of ringgit.

As soon as she dropped her black, worn-off duffle bag on the dusty sidewalk, a dog fiercely barked at her from behind its owner's front gate.

With a sudden jolt, she swiftly picked up her duffle bag and scurried away from it, feeling surprised. She could hear her heart thumping from her fear of dogs.

She isn't particularly terrified of dogs since she personally adores them and would send a heart away if she saw videos of them on TikTok.

She was just scared of the fact that her religion taught her to be fearful of dogs, and that notion had been etched in her mind since she was a child.

With a faint prayer and trembling fingers, she again pulled out her phone and studied the address that the lessor had given her.

She mouthed it while seeking someone to assist her with the whereabouts of the concrete jungle of Petaling Jaya. But it was in the middle of noon, and there were barely any people around.

In the sweltering heat, she decided to walk a bit and look for a guard around the gated area nearby. It was a Bangladeshi guard who kindly offered her help and showed her the way.

He introduced himself as Amand and told her a brief story of how he got a job here from their quick chat. Though she did wonder why the Malay guard, who was busy looking down at his phone and who was sitting in the same guard house as Amand, didn't even try to look at her.

She thought she spoke in perfect Malay, even though people frequently mistaken her for Taiwanese. In a way, it did shape her once-biassed perspective towards immigrants.

"Amand, are you sure this is the address?" Still in doubt, Kemboja showed Amand what the lessor had sent her beforehand.

Amand's head swiftly moved up and down. His crinkled forehead and almost sewn-together eyebrows showed his seriousness, studying the photos Kemboja showed him and the unrecognisable building in front of them.

"Yeah, yeah! Kakak, look at the sign. It does say Ocean Park Apartment, same as the photo." With an assured nod, he handed the phone back to Kemboja.

Given the confidence in Amand's tone, Kemboja smiled and thanked him. As she waved him goodbye, she again looked at her never-ending misfortunes.

First, she got divorced and left with nothing in her possessions. The only thing they had agreed upon was a small compensation of ten thousand ringgit. Compensation, he said? It was more like paying back Kemboja's hard-earned money he had spent over the years of their marriage.

She had reminded herself not to overspend and to be extremely cautious, but then this! She thought she had found herself a decent place to stay.

"Asal boleh! Malaysia boleh!" She gave herself a small pep talk and picked herself up again.

An old lady appeared from her apartment, heartwarmingly smiling at Kemboja's appearance. Judging by her jovial expression, she had definitely been waiting for her arrival.

She was this typical petite, short Chinese lady wearing clothes you would see at the market selling greens. Nonetheless, she looked pretty carefree herself.

Upon unlocking her rusted door grill, she invited her in and offered Kemboja a glass of water. Later, Kemboja politely declined, not because she wasn't thirsty; she was, but rather because she was having an issue with the Halal Haram situation.

The old lady, from her outlook, well, of course, the small in-house temple and the lingering smell of incense in her house gave an idea that she eats babi. Babi is haram!

" Come! I'll show you your room." Mrs. Lim, as she introduced herself, walked along her side while guiding Kemboja through the set of rules she had imposed on her premises.

Kemboja couldn't care less about the lengthy and intricate order of rules since she would mostly be minding her own business. It was the no smoking rule that had her take away the carefreeness she thought the old lady possessed from Kemboja's checklist.

" Aiya! Sorry - sorry! Wrong keys!"

But, whatever.

Kemboja's hand dived into her shoulder bag, looking for a cigarette, and instantly remembered the 'no smoking' rule the old lady had warned her early on. Another fuck for her.

She was beyond stress, and she needed to release it, but she thought it wasn't the best time to break the rules, so she waited and walked back and forth along the narrow corridor, easing her stress.

It wasn't that long before she heard a peal of hoarse laughter and jovial barking from what she assumed was a dog caught her attention.

She searched for them and saw a man in his glorious black leather jacket and torn jeans, a fashion statement you'd rocked if you were living in the 80s. It wasn't a bad one. He looked good, tak tipu.

" Allahuakhbar, hey! Stop licking me," he cried when the dog, a stray dog, she assumed, leaped over his body.

Oddly, Kemboja thought it was going to be a blood bath war between a Muslim man and a dog, but he carried to play along and let the dog lick and jump on him. He didn't seem to bother either.

" Ah! That's Malek. He is a Muslim, but he pets a dog. Strange, huh? A Muslim with a dog," smiled the old lady before she jingled a bunch of keys in her hands, " I forgot which one is which, so we gonna try every each of them."

YA, another fuck.