MANCHESTER EPIPHANY CHAPTER 5: ARBAN BATSAIKHAN

Eiyo Fadneiras,

Welcome back to F. Mooneira's Bookshelf. FYI, Manchester Epiphany has been launched. Alhamdulillah. The novel is now available at Shopee and Book Capital. To buy it, click on this link >> BUY MANCHESTER EPIPHANY NOW.

To those who have purchased Manchester Epiphany. Thank you very much. Hope you'll enjoy it. To those who will purchase the novel soon, thank you very much, too. Your support means the world to me. Btw, here's the last free reading session for Manchester Epiphany. In this chapter, Yasmeen finally gets to know the gentleman who saved her and her mom at the airport. Yeah, he has an interesting background and career ...

If you wanna know what happened in chapter 6 and onwards, you need to grab Manchester Epiphany now ^_^ Insya-Allah, I will share more about Manchester Epiphany on this website, my blog, Instagram, TikTok, and Facebook. Be sure to follow these accounts closely so that you won't miss a thing. And you guys are always welcome to geek about Manchester Epiphany together. Yay!!!

XoXo,

Fadima Mooneira ^_^

(Author of Manchester Epiphany)

“MINT CHOCO with red berries … are these two your favourite flavours?” asks the man named Arban Batsaikhan. He gazes at the small paper cup in my hands.

“Yup,” I give him a one-word answer.

We are at Moonlight enjoying ice cream. Moonlight is a famous dessert café in Rusholme. The café serves its customers a variety of sweet treats, including ice cream, milkshakes, waffles, baklavas, cakes, crepes, and more. Moonlight is located in the Curry Mile and not far from Wilmslow Park. Like Arban says, Moonlight is the best place for ice cream and sweet treats in Manchester.

This is my fourth time eating ice cream at Moonlight. Before this, I had already visited Moonlight with my family, flatmates, and even Irdina. I had only tried their ice creams, milkshakes, and baklavas. But not their other sweet treats yet. 

“I see … what an interesting combination.” Arban flashes me a cheeky grin.

I let out a tiny laugh and ask, “What about you? Is Jamoca Almond Fudge your favourite?”

“Well, it’s my second favourite after vanilla,” answers Arban with a confident voice and smile.

“Vanilla is your favourite?” I am surprised and stare at Arban. Arban is enjoying his ice cream. “Guys don’t go for vanilla,” I add.

“Guys don’t go for vanilla? Why, eh?” asks Arban with a frowning look. I laugh at his expression. But Arban still looks cute with that frowning forehead.

“Umm … I don’t know … most people say vanilla is soft, smooth, and mild. I am not a fan of vanilla ice cream either. Vanilla is more for dainty little girls,” I share my point of view on vanilla ice cream.

Vanilla is soft, smooth, and mild … that is how most people describe vanilla flavour. Vanilla is never a flavour for macho dudes. Hmm … is this statement true?

“Oh wow … vanilla is for dainty little girls … what a fake masculinity statement.” I hear a cynical laugh from Arban. I remain silent. “Are you sure about that, Yasmeen Aizura?” asks Arban with a cynical tone, and he adds, “I didn’t know that ice cream is genderised.” Oh blimey! Are we going to debate? Gulp … I hope not. I am never good at debates.

“Well, that’s what I heard. Not many guys like the flavour of vanilla. Only soft ones go for vanilla.” I give Arban an honest answer. I hope he is not offended. Well, indeed, vanilla is not a famous flavour among men in my home country. I hardly ever see men having vanilla ice cream before. Ayah is never into vanilla flavour. So do Abang Taufik, my male cousins, and other male friends.

“Well … that’s other people’s opinion,” he turns to me. He also gives me a hard stare. Lup-dup! Lup-dup! Lup-dup! My heart starts to race again. Yikes. “I want to hear your opinion,” continues Arban. He raises his right eyebrow at me. Alamak … is he trying to challenge me? What a typical alpha male 2.0.

“Umm … I think … men who like vanilla ice cream are …” I stammer to create my sentence. Aduhai! What must I say to him? I do not have my own point of view on men liking vanilla ice cream or flavour.

I look at Arban. His eyes are still on me. He is still waiting for my answer. Iseh … what must I tell him? I scratch my head. Think, Yasmeen. Think! Grr … where is Kak Maya when you need her? Seriously, I am never good at this kind of thing.

“Woohoo … time will be up soon.” Arban waves his right hand in front of my face. And I realise my mouth has been open all this time. Aduh … how embarrassing.

Pap! Arban claps his hands in front of my face.

“Time’s up. Looks like you don’t have your own opinion. You simply believe what others say.” Arban flashes me a cheeky grin.

“Okay … I admit … yes! I have no opinion about guys and vanilla ice cream or flavour. I was just reporting what others say …” I surrender. Arban laughs out loud. Grrr!

“That is never a good thing, you know. Your own opinion about things, about anything at all, is important. What’s the point Allah gave us brains if all we do is follow others’ opinions?” says Arban. Ceh! Is he insulting me? Suddenly, I feel like I want to run into Ibu and tell her, ‘Mr. Tall-Dark-And-Handsome is not a gentleman like you thought, Ibu.’ Hmph!

“You know what … enough about ice cream. Ice cream is subjective. There’s no right or wrong.” I try to change our conversation topic. Arban is still laughing at me. Ceh!

“Let’s talk about you … Why don’t you tell me about yourself, Mr. Arban Batsaikhan? I only know your name and your favourite ice cream flavour. But what about other things about you? Are you a local? You have a thick English accent. But why is your name Arban Batsaikhan? That’s not an English name …” Fuh … I can’t stop talking. I really want to change our conversation topic pronto.

“Okay … fair enough.” Fuh … luckily, Arban agrees with me. “After all, you just gave your opinion … ice cream is subjective … I like that.” Arban still has that cheekiness about him. Hmm … I can sense his sarcasm.

“Okay … where shall I start?” I see Arban squeezing his sexy, pointed chin. Hahaha … he looks clueless.

“Like I mentioned before … my name is Arban Batsaikhan. I’m a British citizen of Kazakh-Mongolian descent. I was born and raised in the Lake District, Cumbria. My family has a farm there.” Arban offers me a concise introduction to himself.

Wow … what an interesting background. I would have never guessed that he is British-Mongolian. I only know Mongolians from movies, TV dramas, documentaries, and literature. But never in real life.

“Oh … you’re British-Mongolian?” I am surprised. Arban nods and smiles handsomely at me. Ooo … that smile. A smile that can melt any glacier in the Arctic.

I suddenly feel excited to get to know Arban further. Wow … Mr. Tall-Dark-And-Handsome is a Mongolian. No wonder he has an exotic vibe. And … oh so sexy!

As a history lover, I am always fascinated by Mongolia. However, my knowledge of the land with the great blue marble skies and its people isn’t deep. We hardly learned about Mongolia back in high school. We usually associate Mongolia with fierce rulers like Genghis Khan and Kublai Khan. I remember watching Marco Polo on Netflix.

“How long has your family lived in the UK?” Wah … wah … looks like I’m turning into a reporter.

“Well, that begins with my late grandfather. My siblings and I are the third generation,” answers Arban. He seems happy to disclose himself to me, although we’ve just met. Good!

“How many siblings do you have?” I continue interviewing Arban. Wah … looks like you’re really interested in getting to know this British-Mongolian hunk, eh, Yasmeen? I tease myself.

“There’s just the two of us. I’m the eldest. And my younger sister is three years younger than me.” Whoa … Arban is the eldest of two siblings. And I am the youngest among three siblings. People always say men who are born the eldest are a perfect love match for women who are born the youngest or only child. Ish … love match? What are you thinking, Yasmeen Aizura? I scold myself.

I curiously gaze at Arban. I can see the handsome hunk scooping his Jamoca Almond Fudge ice cream with a plastic spoon and putting it into his mouth. I am mesmerised. Fuh … how does he do that? Eating ice cream while looking sexy? Oh wow! Oh wow!

I gaze at Arban again. He is still enjoying his ice cream without saying a word. I am sure Arban is waiting for my next question.

“So Arban …” I break our silence. Arban looks up and shows me a poker face. “What are you doing in Manchester? Are you working or still studying?”

“Working. I’m a perfumer at Floria Shine.” Whoa … not just an interesting background. But Mr. Tall-Dark-And-Handsome has an interesting job too. He is a perfume designer and maker. Cool! And oh … he works at Floria Shine. No wonder I saw him there while shopping with Irdina during our last day of the orientation program.

“Perfumer? What a cool occupation. So you must have a degree in Chemistry, eh?” I go for a wild guess.

“Yes. I did my degree in Chemistry at Seoul National University. And I spent 3 years doing the BAC Program of Scent Design and Creation at ISIPCA.” Fuh … what a rare qualification! Brilliant!

“Wow … so you can speak Hangul and French, eh?” I ask again. Speaking about the Hangul language, it suddenly reminds me of my brother-in-law, Haikal Kim Eun Seop.

“Anyeong hassaeyo, mannaseo bangabseubnida.” Hello, nice to meet you says Arban in Hangul. “Bonjour, ravi de vous rencontrer.” It means, hello, nice to meet you in French.

Wow! Arban’s accent in Hangul and French sounds perfect. So sexy and manly. What a charmer!

“And don’t be surprised …” Arban winks at me. Oh, how sexy! “Saya juga boleh berbahasa Malaysia. Awak dari Malaysia kan, cik adik? Saya dengar perbualan awak dengan ibu awak semasa di Pret A Manger,” says Arban in Bahasa Malaysia. Whoa! I am taken aback. I feel like I am about to faint from shock. It amazes me that Arban knows my mother tongue too. His sentence sounds perfect. But his accent in Bahasa Malaysia sounds foreign. Hehehe. But it definitely sounds cute and sexy to me.

“Ha’ah ya … I’m from Malaysia.” I think I sound like a drunkard when I answered him. “By … th … the … the way … where did you learn Bahasa Malaysia?” I ask in a stammering voice. I am still amazed by Arban’s Bahasa Malaysia skill.

“From a friend, cik adik.” Arban flashes me his gorgeous smile.

Oh, I see …. A Malaysia friend?”

“Half Malaysian, half British.”

Haaa … must be another Henry Golding!

“Oh … I see … so have you visited Malaysia?” I ask Arban another question.

“Number of times, Yasmeen Aizura,” says Arban. Whoa … he even visited Malaysia. Not just once. But many times. How impressive!

“I even dream of moving to Malaysia one day,” continues Arban. Whoa! Now he reminds me of Abang Haikal.

“Oh … what makes you interested in moving to Malaysia? I thought England is a more sophisticated country?” I switch to my reporter role. I feel like I am instantly attracted to this interesting hunk. Hmm …

Arban squeezes his chin again. “Umm … I believe Malaysia is a beautiful country. It’s a good place for new opportunities. Plus, it’s a modern Muslim country. And speaking about England as a more sophisticated country compared to Malaysia … that’s an interesting opinion.”

I can concur with Arban that Malaysia is a beautiful, modern Muslim country. Many Muslim travellers and expats love Malaysia. Malaysia is also very rich in history and culture. It’s also true that Malaysia is a land of new opportunities for foreigners. This is good competition for the locals.

I look at my watch. Oh … an hour has passed by. It is time for me to go home. After all, the ice cream in my cup is all gone and clean.

“Mr. Arban … the sky is almost dark. I think I should get going.”

Arban looks down and stares at his cup. His cup is all clean too.

“Okay. I believe I should head home, too.” Arban agrees to my suggestion.

Arban and I rise from our seats. We throw our paper cups and plastic spoons into a garbage bin near the counter.

I put my right hand in my pocket and reach for my wallet. I unzip the wallet and take out my debit card. But Arban stops me just before I hand my card to the cashier.

“The ice cream is on me,” says Arban. “After all, I am the one who invited you here.”

Huhuhu … This is the second time Mr. Tall-Dark-And-Handsome bought me food. Auuuwww … what a gentleman this British-Mongolian hunk is. Insya-Allah, I will buy him food the next time we meet.

“Thank you very much for the treat,” I say right after we leave Moonlight.

“So … you’re okay now?” asks Arban with a caring face. He continues, “I won’t ask you what that was all about. But hey … if you want to talk, I’m ready to listen.”

“Yes. All thanks to you.” Honestly, eating that ice cream with Arban did calm me down and made me happy. It is true what most wise people say. Ice cream is always the best medicine. Hehehe.

“Alhamdulillah.” Arban is happy for me. He gives me a thumb-up and his handsome smile. Alamak! His smile makes my heart flutter again. Lup-dup! Lup-dup! Lup-dup! Calm down, heart!

“Insya-Allah. I’ll see you again,” I wave at Arban. We are about to part ways.

“See you again, too. Umm … where are you going?” Arban’s question makes me stop.

I turn to Arban and say, “Home, of course.”

“Where do you live?” asks Arban.

“Wilmslow Park.”

“Oh, no wonder we are walking the same way,” says Arban.

Oh yeah … we are walking the same way. How come I did not notice that? My bad!

“Oh … and where do you live?” I ask Arban.

“Melrose Apartment. I’m a neighbour of the hospital.” Arban jokes. We both laugh.

“Oh … that’s very close to Wilmslow Park.”

“Yes. So let’s walk together. I’ll walk you home,” offers Arban. Alamak … suddenly I feel as if I’m in a K-Drama. Lup-dup! Lupdup! Lup-dup! And here we go again …

“So … Miss Yasmeen Aizura … may I know more about you? Now, why don’t you tell me about yourself? Right now, I only know your name and where you’re from. But what are you doing in Manchester?” Huhuhu … the reporter role has switched from Yasmeen to Arban.

“I’m studying here. I’m pursuing my degree in Fashion Marketing at MFI.” I give Arban a straight answer.

“Ah … I see … you’re doing fashion. But why did you choose Manchester? Why not London, Paris, Milan, New York, Seoul, Tokyo, or even Dubai?” Hahaha … common questions to all fashion students. I know … Manchester is never known as a fashion city.

“Well, since this is my first experience being away from my family… I don’t want to be in a big city. I think Manchester is perfect for student life. Plus, the cost of living here is affordable compared to that in the big cities. And studying fashion does not have to be in the big cities. Fashion is subjective and universal. Fashion can be anywhere. ” Zaaas! I give him a lecture.

“Umm … fashion is subjective and universal … I like that.” Yay! Arban agrees with me. A handsome guy has the same opinion as me. I am flying without wings …

I think Arban is not just a handsome face. He seems charismatic, kind, and knowledgeable as well. And I like hot guys with brains!

His name is Arban Batsaikhan. And he is a British-Mongolian perfumer (Image: My Artstagram @fmooneira_art)

“You made the right choice, Yasmeen Aizura. Manchester is a perfect place to study fashion.” Arban breaks our silence.

“It is?” I give Arban a surprise look.

“Don’t you know that Manchester is also a fashion hub in North West England? There are many fashion brands from high street to high end coming from Manchester these days. Plus, Manchester is known as the centre of the UK’s cotton industry, or shall I say “Cottonopolis” since the 19 th century. There are many textile factories here.” Arban shares an interesting fact about Manchester and fashion. Whoa! Looks like Manchester is a fashion city after all. I made the right choice. Yahooo!

What Arban said excites me. Manchester is no less than London. Perhaps that is why Manchester Metropolitan University transformed the Faculty of Clothing and Technology into Manchester Fashion Institute. And now their fashion school is ranked as good as the London College of Fashion and Central Saint Martins. You go, Manchester!

“Well, Manchester’s potential as a fashion hub made Blooming Jardin and Floria Shine choose to have their flagship stores here for the UK and European markets.” Arban shares Blooming Jardin and Florida Shine’s history with me. How fascinating. It amazes me that the company chose Manchester as its hub for the UK and European markets instead of London, Paris, or Milan.

“Oh … are you saying that Blooming Jardin and Floria Shine’s products sold in the UK and Europe are made in Manchester?” I become more and more engrossed with Blooming Jardin and Floria Shine’s history.

“Only for Floria Shine. All Blooming Jardin clothes are made in their factory in Incheon. Some Floria Shine beauty products for the UK and European markets are made here. Our R&D office is above the store,” says Arban. 

“Oh … you mean the store behind Arndale?” I need clarification.

“Yes, that’s where I work. The management and marketing office is also there,” answers Arban matter-of-factly. Oh … no wonder I saw him there while shopping with Irdina. Arban was briefing the retailers on perfumes, I guess.

“Cool! How long have you been working with Floria Shine?” Hahaha … the interviewer role is mine again.

“Four years already. Right after I graduated from ISIPCA. I began as an intern. But later, the boss hired me permanently.”

“That’s great! You must be enjoying working there.”

“Yes. Definitely. Alhamdulillah.”

“So, what are you planning to do after you graduate, Yasmeen? I mean … what do you want to be in fashion?” Okay … the interviewer’s role is now Arban’s.

Alamak! Another killer question. What must I say? Where do I start?

“Yasmeen,” calls Arban as I remain silent for a while.

“Ummm … ummmmm …” I stammer and notice Arban frowning at me.

“Ummmm … I don’t know yet.” Haa … I decide to give him an honest answer. I cannot lie on this one.

“You don’t know? What do you mean you don’t know?” Arban is not satisfied with my answer, I guess.

“I have not decided yet. I can only think about it in my final year here, I guess. But I’m definitely not going to be a fashion designer. Designing is not my cup of tea. And I hate sewing.” Haaa … another honest answer from me.

Arban looks up at the sky that is already dark. I can see Arban squeezing his chin again. Hmmm … must be his habit.

“Okay … study first and enjoy your life as a student. You can always go sailing without a map.” Yay! Arban does not force me to give him a specific answer. He simply agrees with me.

Our walk from Moonlight to Wilmslow Park isn’t long. Well, both are located in the Rusholme area. We are standing right in front of Wilmslow Park before we realise it. Time to part ways. I thank Arban and say goodbye to him. I really appreciate his good deeds.

“Wait!” shouts Arban. And I stop. 

“Can I have your number?” Whoa! He is asking for my number. Does this mean Arban wants to keep in touch with me? Wicked!

“Sure.” I take the Samsung smartphone that Arban hands to me and type my number into it.

“Here.” I return the Samsung Galaxy Note 10 to its owner. “Do call or text me,” I add. Arban smiles at me.

~~~

I’M HOME! I shout in my heart as I open the door of room 13D.

I cannot believe I met Mr. Tall-Dark-And-Handsome again. We broke the ice. And he even asked for my phone number. O.M.G! What a fortunate stroke of serendipity!

Alamak! Wait a minute … I forgot to ask Arban for his phone number! Huaaaaaargh! I pat my forehead. You’re always overexcited, nervous, and forgetful when there’s a handsome hunk around! Haish … you’re so not like your mother, Prof. Meriam. Your mother is good with boys. Always. You’re worse than Kak Maya, Meen. At least, Kak Maya is lucky that fate brought her to Abang Haikal. Well, let’s pray you’ll be lucky too.

Beep … beep … beep … that’s the sound of WhatsApp Messenger.

Bingo! That must be Arban Batsaikhan. Arban must have realised that I forgot to ask for his number. So he messages me quickly. You’re lucky after all, Yasmeen Aizura. Hehehe …

I reach for my phone. There are sparkles in my eyes. I stare at the screen. But it’s not what I expected. The message isn’t from Arban. But I’m still grateful and happy. The message is from Ibu. God bless Ibu.

Ibu: Girl, are you in your room? We are about to take off in 30 minutes. Take care. We love you ^_^

Oh … suddenly I remember. I’m supposed to text my parents when I get home. Well, what to do? I did not go home right after Ayah and Ibu left. I took a bus to Oxford Court instead. I met Mr. Tall-Dark-And-Handsome unexpectedly. And later we went for ice cream at Moonlight. That is why I forgot to text Ayah and Ibu. Alamak. Sorry, Ayah. Sorry, Ibu.

I am about to type my message to Ibu. But suddenly, my fingers stop typing. Should I tell Ibu that I met Mr. Tall-Dark-AndHandsome? Should I tell Ibu we went for ice cream together? Hmm … next time, lah. I feel quite inept to spill the tea to Ibu. It is because I forgot to ask for Mr. Tall-Dark-And-Handsome’s phone number! Iseh!

Yasmeen Aizura: Assalamualaikum, Ibu and Ayah, yes … I’m in my room. Sorry … I met a friend and forgot. Please take care and have a safe flight home. I miss you guys already :'(

I type ten red heart emojis as my second text. But before I can send it, Ibu replies to my first message.

Ibu: Okay, Meen. Take good care of yourself, ya ^_^ Ibu and Ayah love you always, Meen. We will always pray for your success. We are missing you, too. By the way, I feel weird not having you by my side.

Isk … isk … isk … tears roll down my cheeks again. Ibu and Ayah are about to fly home.

Yasmeen Aizura: Okay, Ibu. I pray that you and Ayah will reach home safely. Do WhatsApp me when you reach home, ya <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

Saying goodbye to my parents is hard. But since they worked hard to send me here, I must be strong and not give up. You’re strong, Yasmeen Aizura. Trust me. I console myself. 

Ibu: Thanks, Meen. Will do.

I smile while reading Ibu’s last message. I slowly land on my bed. I pray that Ayah and Ibu will have a good flight and reach home safely. Aamiin.

Suddenly, my eyes catch the time that my phone screen is showing. Alamak … Maghrib time is almost up. I rush to the bathroom for wuduk and perform my Maghrib prayer.

~~~

GEDEBUSH! I land on my bed right after I’m done with Maghrib prayer. I turn my head to the left and stare at the three adorable plushies on my bed.

I stretch my arms and reach for Iris. Iris is a stylish, rainbow-colored leopard plushie that Ayah recently bought for me from Build-A-Bear Workshop at Arndale Shopping Centre.

I stare at Iris. She is always smiling. Iris has a pretty face. Her eyes are purple and shiny. This leopard plushie has the face of an anime character. She is dressed in a dark purple sleeveless top and shiny black tulle. She also wears a shiny pink high top.

Krik … krak … krik … krak …

Haish … what noise is that? The sound is from next door. I remain silent and listen for the sound again. Hmm … is that my new flatmate? According to the email that I received from iQ Student this morning, the girl who is supposed to be in room 13C is supposed to arrive today. Can that be her?

Beep … beep … beep … that is the WhatsApp messenger again. Can that be Arban? Oh … forget about that noise. Miss New Flatmate can wait another time or day.

Oh … it’s Abang Taufik.

Abang Taufik: Haalooo Meen, can we video call?

Yasmeen Aizura: Sure

And Abang Taufik dials my number. I accept his call … “Assalamualaikum … hello, adik abang. How are you?” My brother, with his Maggi Mee hair, greets me.

“Wa’alaikumussalam. I’m good. How about you?” “Alhamdulillah, I’m okay too.”

“Alhamdulillah. Where’s Kak Safira, by the way?” I am looking for my sister-in-law.

“Kak Safira is asleep. It’s 3 am here.”

Oh yeah … Malaysia is eight hours ahead of England.

“Abang, what are you doing at 3 am? Do you always wake up this early?” I tease my brother.

“I don’t know, Meen … I suddenly woke up and have a hard time falling back asleep. So I thought I’d check on my little sister …” says Abang Taufik.

I understand what Abang Taufik means. He must have been all stressed out. Abang Taufik has always been an overthinker.

“How’s Kak Safira, by the way? Is she good?” I ask.

“She’s okay. But she’s having terrible morning sickness these days. So I had to take leave to take care of her,” says Abang Tuafik.

Hmm … he must have been worried about Kak Safira. This is my sister-in-law’s first pregnancy. It must be challenging for Kak Safira and Abang Taufik. Kak Safira is now seven months expecting. I pray that everything will be easy for them. Aamiin.

I feel excited that I am going to be an aunt soon. I hope I will be able to return to Malaysia when my first niece or nephew arrives.

Abang Taufik and I continue chatting. Even though Abang Taufik seems stressed, he still has a lot of stories to tell. And he still manages to laugh. Abang Taufik has always been a positive vibe kind of person.

Abang Taufik tells me that he video-called Kak Maya in Seoul. Kak Maya will be launching her new novel in November this year. Alhamdulillah. I feel happy for my sister. She is really living her dreams after marrying Haikal Kim.

Besides her second novel, Kak Maya also has several new projects coming soon. Her company, MJIE, will be launching an online magazine called Animania in early 2020. Animania caters to art, literature, and pop culture lovers. Wicked!

And thirdly, Abang Taufik says, MJIE will be unveiling a new author under their publishing house in January 2020. Abang Taufik also mentions that MJIE’s new author is a single mother from Malaysia. The author is a widow with three children. Two of her children are autistic. Whoa … I am touched by Kak Maya and Abang Haikal’s kindness. They are helping a single mother with autistic kids. Alhamdulillah. I pray that the single mother will become a successful author. Aamiin.

“Meen … do you need any help? Like a new recipe?” asks Abang Taufik before we end the call.

“Umm … I don’t think so. I believe the scrapbook of recipes you gave me is good enough. I have all the recipes I need. Thank you for asking, Abang.” My brother made me a scrapbook of his recipes before I left Malaysia. The recipes include some of his classics like nasi lemak ayam berempah, Hungarian goulash, spaghetti bolognese, aloha pasta, fish and chips, macaroni and cheese, kampung fried rice, Chinese fried rice, and tomato rice. My brother is always kind. The perks of being a chef’s little sister. Hehehe …

“Okay … but if you need new recipes, don’t be shy to let your amazing brother know, ya. I’m always ready to help.” Alhamdulillah. I am blessed to have the sweetest big brother in the world.

“Okay, Abang. Good night. See you again. I love you.” I bid farewell to Abang Taufik.

“Good night. I love you too, little sister.” Abang Taufik bids his farewell too. And we end the call.

Knock … knock … knock …

Someone knocks on my door. Aik … who can that be? Aisha? Marisa? I rise from my bed and walk to the door.

I peep from the peephole at my door. I can see a figure that I’m not familiar with. It is a girl with luscious curly hair outside my room. But she is not Marisa or Aisha.

With bismillah, I open the door.

“Olá!” says the girl with hair as wavy as Shakira in a cheerful tone. She is a beautiful young woman with tan brown skin and a slim figure. Her eyes twinkle like stars. She has a lovely smile, too.

“Hi,” I wave and stare at her in surprise.

“I’m Jordana Ranchood.” She introduces herself. “I’m your neighbour.” She points at the door with the 13C sign on it. Ooohhh … my third flatmate has arrived.

“I’m Yasmeen Aizura. Nice to meet you, Jordana.” I offer Jordana my right hand. But she pulls me into her embrace.

Jordana Ranchood is from the same country as my Ricardo Alonso. Yup, she is a Portuguesa with Indian descent. But Jordana is from Lisbon, and my Ricardo is from Madeira. Hahaha.

Jordana tells me that she is also doing a BSc Hons Fashion Marketing at Manchester Fashion Institute, and she is in her final year. So this means Jordana is my senior.

Jordana looks like a friendly and cheerful person. I like her personality. She makes me feel warm. I hope we will be good friends.

Yasmeen's new friend and flatmate ~ Jordana Ranchood (Image: Meta AI)

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