The incident she mentioned happened three years ago. She and I and a few other friends were out having lunch in a hawker stall, when one of us, C, saw something on Facebook. “OMG,” she had said, showing us a picture of K’s recent ex boyfriend poised to kiss another girl who was just supposed to be his “best friend.”
Though they were already broken up, K had still been holding on to false hopes that they could still get back together because his break up line had been something like “Give me time to deserve you.” So in that moment, in that very public place, the finality of the loss and betrayal sank in, and her heart broke again and she started crying.
We rushed her out of there and headed to our flat. As she lay on a bed sobbing, C and I lay down on both sides of her, trying to summon words of comfort. We had both been in her shoes before. We knew how painful it was.
Just then, I knew exactly what to do. “Do you want me to come stay with you for the week?” All her flat mates were out of the country, and I didn’t want her to be alone. She welcomed my offer, so I packed a bag and followed her home.
She would keep thanking me for that week, but I told her, “You know, you don’t need to thank me for that. I was just paying you back.”
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“Don’t you remember?” So I reminded her.