"You know? Sometimes, it's different, you know?"
"What am I thinking about? Hey! You… Yes, you!"
"Is it me or you who do you think we are? Different? Sometimes… do you consider yourself a good person? Or just someone trying to survive? Or… just someone."
"Who's important to you? Yeah, you… you still have family, right? Your siblings down there in Singapore… You want them back."
"You know, you could just forget about that girl. Abandon her. And just get to Singapore by yourself. You've already made it halfway. The rest of the journey won't be so hard. You've come this far alone…"
"So, what's it going to be? And oh yeah how could I forget your father? That man… Where is he now? You don't know. The British took him away because they needed medics. And now you're in this village, alone."
...
Aman opened his eyes. He had fallen asleep in the middle of the day and now it was evening.
"What a strange dream… huh. It's been a while since I actually dreamt in my sleep. Sleeping in the middle of the day… gonna make me a dreamer now?"
He turned his head and spotted Latif staring at him.
"What are you talking about? You were even talking while sleeping… You just laid down for a bit and then, boom you were out. I felt bad waking you up, so I let you sleep."
Aman sighed and sat up, scratching his head. "You've got to be kidding me. I accidentally fell asleep."
He looked around, dazed. "That gave me a headache…" He reached for his sling bag and inspected it carefully.
"Well, you really did take care of my bag, huh." He gave Latif a small nod. "I was kind of worried about it."
Latif just smiled faintly, sitting nearby. Then, after a brief silence, he asked, "Actually… how old are you?"
Aman paused for a second, then replied, "Fourteen. Why?"
Latif's eyes widened. He looked like he had just heard the most shocking thing in his life. "You?! Fourteen?! You're just a year older than me?!"
Aman tilted his head, confused. "Yeah. So?"
"You should look at yourself! Your face and oh, the wrinkles!" Latif exclaimed, gesturing wildly.
Aman stood up and glanced into a mirror. Yeah, he looked older than he should. War does that to people.
"I guess… I look old," he murmured.
Latif continued, "And the way you speak…"
"What about it?"
Latif hesitated. "I don't know. It's just… something. Like you've seen too much. You don't speak like the rest of us."
Aman stared at his reflection. Yeah… he had noticed the change too. But when he thought back… who had he spent most of his time with?
Those lunatics: Henry, Carter, and the Major. Three men who could drive anyone mad. Yet, oddly enough, they had taught Aman things indirectly. Lessons in cruelty, strategy, survival.
And then there was Mei Lian.
Aman sometimes forgot Mei Lian was just twelve. The way she carried herself, acted, took care of him she seemed far older. She had been more forward, more grounded, than many adults he had met.
Then, a voice echoed from downstairs. It was Latif's mother.
"Latif! Tell your friend to come down to the kitchen! We're eating together!"
How nice, Aman thought. A home-cooked meal. That felt rare.
Latif looked at Aman. "Come on, let's eat. It's already evening."
...
Both boys sat down at the small dining space, greeted by the warm aroma of freshly cooked food.
It had been a long time since Aman had eaten like this.
White rice. Good old Malay staples. Vegetables, some meat, and a fried egg. Simple, but it felt like a feast.
He ate like someone who hadn't had a real meal in days because, in truth, he hadn't.
He was a guest here. But for a fleeting moment, it felt like home.
"So, Aman… That is your name, right?" the woman asked, watching him gently.
"Yes, Auntie," Aman replied, his mouth still full.
"Your parents are gone… So where are you headed, really?"
"Singapore. My siblings are there. When the Japanese came, they were sent there it was considered safer."
The woman nodded thoughtfully. "You know… People say the Japanese aren't really bad. That they came to liberate us from the British. The British claim the Japanese are evil… but you've seen them. What do you think?"
Aman froze. He stopped chewing and stared at his plate.
He looked up, expression hard. "Let's just say… they're worse than the British. My mother she wasn't just killed… she was..."
He stopped.
He clenched his jaw. He didn't need to say it.
The woman's face softened. "It's okay. You don't need to continue. Our family… we've had our share of hardships too."
She smiled at him, though there was sadness behind it.
"Why is that?" Aman asked. Then, glancing around, he added, "And where's your husband?"
Latif's eyes widened, and Aman immediately felt like he'd asked the wrong question.
The woman took a deep breath. "He's… gone. Passed away. But that's enough for now. The British helped us while he was alive."
Aman tilted his head. "Huh?"
She continued. "Latif is… special. He used to be very sick. He had asthma and was very weak. The local people couldn't really help. Around that time, there was a plan to rebel against the British a sabotage plot. My husband saw an opportunity. Not because he supported them, but because he saw a way to save our son. He worked for the British. In exchange, they gave us medicine for Latif. Without it… he would've died."
She paused, her voice trembling slightly. "So yes, my husband betrayed his own people. For his son. And because of that, people here… they look at us differently."
Aman absorbed her words in silence.
A betrayal to save a life.
A betrayal that didn't earn riches, or land, or title. Just medicine. Just a chance to keep a child breathing.
Different from the men who collaborated for power. This was something else. Something human.
Aman wanted to ask how the husband died… but chose not to.
...
After dinner, Aman felt the unease growing again.
There was something off about Latif. His behavior, his speech, his awkwardness… This what his mother mean special, should notice that earlier.
Aman stood up. "Oi, Latif. Can you show me around the village?"
"Huh?"
"Just show me around. I want to look around."
The truth was, Aman felt bad for Latif. After all he'd been through, Aman couldn't just sit idle. The world was shifting Japanese troops moving in, the British fleeing. There was no way Latif would survive on his own, no medicine for him anymore there still a mother trying to protect him but disease is not something that can just go away.
And yet, Aman told himself it wasn't his problem.
Still, he needed answers.
He needed to find that man the one who had watched him through the window.
There was something he needed to know.
Just him and Latif.
The journey through the shadows of the village was just beginning.