Part 3: “Not Everything That Shines Is a Diamond”
That morning, the sun felt different. As if the world was preparing a new chapter in a story that hadn’t truly ended. For some reason, Yasmine’s story appeared on my feed that morning—a photo of little Barra again. His gaze was innocent, his clothes adorable. I felt it was the right time to start unraveling the tangled threads, one by one.
I began piecing together the fragments of conversations that once seemed to float aimlessly. My temporary conclusion: Yasmine married in 2019, to a pilot. The wedding reception? Rumor had it, it was lavish, held in three cities: Bali, Jakarta, and Sidoarjo. Her life sounded like a fairytale. Flying here and there, following her husband’s duties. But, as always, all of this was just from her side of the story—without a single photo as proof, not even a wedding invitation.
That day she said she was in Sidoarjo, to pick up her diploma, but in a hurry because she had to go with her husband to Jakarta.
Little did she know, I and her close friend—let’s call her Vita—were laughing behind the scenes. Not out of malice, but simply because… well, we were used to it. We were very close, though not many knew. Our friendship only appeared on WhatsApp, not in hangouts. That day, Vita deliberately asked Yasmine to hang out. But Yasmine claimed she was in Jakarta.
We exchanged screenshots. And of course—it was another lie.
From Vita, story after story surfaced. One of them was during graduation prep. Their gang’s plan: matching kebaya dresses. Those living in Surabaya would have them sewn by Vita’s mother. Those in Sidoarjo, by Yasmine’s regular tailor. At that time, Yasmine took Erna to her tailor. But a few months later, when Erna wanted another dress and asked for the tailor’s number, Yasmine kept making excuses: “I lost the number,” “I’ll find it again later.”
In a rush, Erna decided to trace the streets of Sidoarjo, relying on what little memory she had. She entered a narrow alley. And surprisingly, she really found the tailor’s house. Even more shocking, the tailor still remembered her face:
“You’re Lisa’s friend, right? Lisa’s house is nearby, about five houses away.”
Erna froze. At campus, her name was Yasmine. In the neighborhood, she was Lisa. The fancy house everyone imagined… turned out to be just a modest home in a narrow alley. But to keep the friendship, Erna pretended not to know.
I burst out laughing when I heard that story. To be sure, I asked another friend who once went to her house when her motorbike was stolen. And… yep, it was indeed in that same alley.
Little by little, we realized we weren’t really friends…
We were loyal viewers of the Yasmine soap opera.
From gym photos with ultra-clear quality, wearing KENZO clothes, but when she took selfies, the pictures were blurry—like using the front camera of an old phone.
Until one day, Yasmine posted a story:
A photo of a luxurious gift. Caption: “Thank you for the present 🥰”
She posted it repeatedly, as if the gift was from someone else. But well, no secret lasts forever.
Erna, the true fact-finder, discovered traces of Yasmine’s shopping history from Shoe’s homepage. Back then, Shoe often showed friends’ purchase histories. And it was proven—the gift was something she bought herself. More drama.
A few weeks later, a screenshot of a bank transaction appeared on Yasmine’s story:
Funds received: Rp60,000,000,-
We were stunned. But not long after that, I received a message from her:
“Hey, can I borrow 1.5 million? I’ll return it by 1 p.m…”
I was shocked, then laughed. She forgot she once accused me of stealing class funds when I was the treasurer. And now? Asking me for help?
Honestly (and with a hint of satisfaction), I replied:
“No. You were cruel to me before.”
Her reply was short:
“Okay then.”
A few days later, she sent a broadcast message:
“If you get any WA claiming I owe money, just ignore it…”
I teased her:
“Are you into online loans?”
“I just registered. Haven’t borrowed yet. But I canceled it. But my friends are already being harassed…”
After that… she vanished. Her stories disappeared, her number inactive. Me? I chuckled. Who was I… just a silent witness to Yasmine’s drama.
Years passed. I got married. Had a child.
Suddenly, a friend request came from Yasmine on Instagram. I accepted, but didn’t follow back. But, well, human curiosity won. I opened a second account to keep tabs.
From that account, no stories appeared. But her feed was still active. I ignored it. Until one day Vita said:
“Hey, her stories are getting weirder…”
I immediately checked using my second account. Turns out I was hidden from them! Hahaha!
Back on my main account… the request had been canceled. A few days later… Yasmine followed me again.
I followed back.
And…
A NEW SEASON OF DRAMA WAS ABOUT TO BEGIN.
(To be continued in Part 4)
