Part 2: The Cracked Mirage
Time kept moving. I thought Yasmine’s story had ended in the early semesters, but it turned out her life drama kept on unfolding—more complicated than a prime-time soap opera.
A few months after her “father’s death”—which turned out to be just another part of her afternoon fairy tales—Yasmine started distancing herself from her usual circle of friends, the ones who always appeared together in Instagram stories. No more brunch photos, no more vacations together, no more car selfies with half-baked English captions.
At first, I didn’t care. But one night, while I was watching a movie with my boyfriend at the time—let’s call him Hasan—at the cinema, he suddenly opened up.
🥑: “You know Yasmine, right? Can you believe it—she blocked all my friends, even me. After all the help, she just cut off communication. Crazy.”
🥰: “Wait, what happened? Tell me the story, how did it get that bad?”
🥑: “Her motorbike got taken away by some guy, maybe her boyfriend or whoever. She panicked and asked me for help. I even asked my uncle who’s a cop to track it down. We found it in Madiun, someone even went there to get it back. But after it was recovered, she blocked everyone who helped her. That’s messed up.”
🥰: “Why would her motorbike get taken away?”
🥑: “Well, apparently Yasmine was planning to rent a villa with that guy, maybe in Bali or somewhere. The guy paid the down payment. But I guess he wanted some collateral, and Yasmine gave him her motorbike. Then the guy just disappeared with it. We all helped track it down, and in the end she got mad. Maybe she was embarrassed, since even the police laughed at her. They said, ‘How can a pretty girl like you get tricked like that?’”
That story made me curious. A few days later, I asked one of Yasmine’s old friends, the one who used to appear with her all the time in stories. Let’s call her Sabrina.
🥰: “Hey, why aren’t you close with Yasmine anymore?”
🌼: “Oh, that’s a long story, Cik. Basically, Yasmine was going to Bali with that guy, she said he was paying. But since they were both afraid of being scammed, Yasmine gave her motorbike as collateral. And yeah, it got taken away. We helped out—someone went to Madiun, I stayed with Yasmine at her house.”
🌼: “When I was at her place, I lent her my phone because she had already sold hers to redeem the motorbike. Then I saw her WhatsApp, she was chatting her mom saying, ‘Dad and Mom from Gresik are coming home.’ But when we said we wanted to come over, she said her aunt had to clean the house first. But clearly, that was her parents. She was still pretending.”
🌼: “So I threw shade at her in my story, she responded with shade, and we ended up blocking each other.”
I could only shake my head. What started as a little play-acting ended up as a pit of suspicion and lies.
Years passed. I interacted with them less and less because I switched majors, and my circle of friends kept shrinking.
Then, in the year we were all set to collect our diplomas, I posted a photo of campus on social media. Not long after, Yasmine appeared in the comments.
“Hey, what are the requirements to pick up the diploma?”
We had a short, casual chat. But a few weeks later, Yasmine uploaded a picture of a cute baby named Barra.
The baby kept appearing in her stories—with loving captions and emojis full of affection. My curiosity kicked in again. So, I contacted an old friend who used to be close with Yasmine. Let’s call her Aurelia.
🥰: “Hey, that baby Yasmine keeps posting, is it hers?”
🥶: “I think so, Sis.”
🥰: “Why ‘think’? Weren’t you invited to the wedding?”
🥶: “No, but my group of friends gave a gift. They said she got married in 2019, had receptions in Bandung, Bali, and Jakarta. But every time we asked for photos, she said, ‘They’re on my other phone that’s broken.’ I mean, really? A wedding that big, and not a single photo printed?”
🥥: “We didn’t even get a souvenir. And we gave her a gift too. Regret it.”
I could only hold back a bitter laugh. Once again, Yasmine spun a grand story, without any real proof. Everything was just assumptions, fairy tales without a clear ending.
And me? I was still curious.
That’s why… Tomorrow, I’ll send Yasmine a direct message. Just for fun, maybe with a prize.
Because if this is a soap opera, we haven’t seen the last episode yet.
(To be continued in Part 3)
Photo by Melissa Askew on Unsplash
