The Depth of Ocean

Unexpected Connections.

Sometimes, we don't even know what we're doing or why we're doing it. Ricky's sudden disappearance had left me in turmoil, a constant ache in my chest that I couldn't seem to shake. Days passed, each blending into the next, until one evening, as I scrolled mindlessly through my phone, Yuhan's profile caught my eye.

Why not? I thought to myself, clicking on his name out of sheer boredom. I wasn't expecting much, but as I browsed through his profile, I stumbled upon a comment thread between him and one of his friends. It made me smile—a simple moment of lightness in an otherwise heavy week. I closed the app and went back to scrolling.

The next day, something strange happened. Yuhan had sent me a friend request.

I blinked at the screen, a bit startled. Why would he add me? The thought was fleeting, though. Without thinking much about it, I clicked "accept." Moments later, a message notification popped up.

Yuhan:
"Hi."

I couldn't help but roll my eyes. Yuhan had always been a flirt, known for charming girls left and right. Still, I replied, if only out of curiosity.

Me:
"Hello."

That was it—the beginning of something unexpected. As we exchanged messages, Yuhan asked a question that caught me off guard.

"Are you Simen?" he wrote, his tone casual.
"No," I replied, confused. Why would he think that?
"Your profiles look similar. I thought you were her," he insisted, still skeptical.
"I'm not," I said firmly, sending him a quick selfie for good measure.

When he saw the picture, he quickly backtracked. "Oh, my bad!" he said with a laugh. "I thought you were Simen."
"It's fine," I replied, laughing along. Little did he know, Simen was my best friend, and I was well aware of his reputation.

From that point on, our conversations became more frequent. Yuhan surprised me by being a good listener. He seemed genuinely interested in my life, asking me questions about Ricky, my relationship, and how I was feeling. Despite his reputation, I found myself opening up to him. He knew how to make me laugh when I felt down and somehow always found the right words to say when I needed comfort.

As weeks passed, I didn't realize how close we had become. It happened gradually, but soon, I was sharing my deepest thoughts with him, confiding in him about my worries and fears. It was strange to feel so at ease with someone I once thought was just a casual flirt.

One afternoon, about a month after we started talking, I was having lunch with my family at Daisy Lounge, which happened to be close to Yuhan's house. As I finished my meal, my phone buzzed.

Yuhan:
"Where are you?"

I hesitated before replying.

Me:
"Having lunch with my family at Daisy Lounge."

His response came quickly.

Yuhan:
"That's near my place. Should I come over and say hi?"

My heart skipped a beat. The thought of meeting him in person suddenly felt too real, too soon. "You don't have to," I typed back, trying to hide my nerves. "Maybe we can just see each other when I drive past your street."

He agreed, but as I left the restaurant, I deliberately avoided looking out the window, keeping my gaze fixed ahead as our car passed by his road. My heart was pounding, and I didn't know why. Was it fear? Excitement? I couldn't place the feeling.

In the days that followed, Yuhan and I continued texting, and then, out of the blue, he did something that didn't shock me as much as it should have—he indirectly proposed.

I stared at the screen, amused. Of course, he did. Yuhan was a notorious flirt, after all. I didn't give him a straight answer, neither yes nor no, and we carried on our conversations as if nothing had happened. But with each passing day, he made it clear that I was special to him.

"You know what you're like, right?" I told him once, trying to keep things light.
"I do," he replied without hesitation. "But at least I'm honest about it."

A week later, Yuhan vanished. His phone was off, his social media account deactivated. It felt like Ricky all over again—another person disappearing from my life without warning.

My anxiety grew each day until, finally, Yuhan returned. His first message was short, almost casual.

Yuhan:
"Sorry, I was out of town."

But when I called him, my voice trembled with concern. "What happened to you?" I asked, barely able to mask the fear in my voice.

"I got caught up in a drug case," he confessed, his tone heavy with frustration.
"What?" I was shocked. I knew Yuhan had a wild side, but drugs? I hadn't seen that coming.
"Someone framed me," he explained, sighing. "The police came to my house. I had no proof of my innocence, so I ran. I've been hiding out in this remote village with no network."

"Are you okay?" I asked, still trying to process everything.

"I am now. I managed to borrow a phone just to call you. Don't worry—I'm fine."

After the call ended, I sat in silence, trying to understand my own emotions. Why had I been so panicked when I couldn't reach him? Why had I cared so much?

And then it hit me. Somewhere along the way, I had started to care about Yuhan more than I realized. Despite his flaws, despite knowing he was a playboy, I had developed feelings for him. When we talked, I felt relief, comfort, and happiness, feelings that I hadn't known I needed. And, somehow, without even noticing, I had momentarily forgotten about Ricky's disappearance.