A Quiet Post

Farha sat in the little café, stirring coffee that had already gone cold. Her eyes drifted over the people passing by, but her heart felt heavy, as though she were stuck halfway through a step.

“Why do you keep spacing out? Did they cut off the electricity at your house?” Muluk asked with a grin, licking the ice cream in his hand across the table. Farha smiled bitterly. “Just a broken wing, Muluk. I mean… my heart feels heavy, like I don't have the strength to move.”

Muluk burst out laughing. “A broken wing? You sound like a superhero who forgot her cape.” Farha gave a small smile. “A storm is fine too, as long as there's no more Zainuddin-style drama.”

Farha's phone suddenly vibrated. A Facebook notification appeared. Another reaction from Noraslida. This time, the clapping emoji. Farha chuckled. Muluk gave her a strange look. “Wow, even a follower's reaction can make you laugh?”

Farha nodded slowly. “I'm not saying she's special or anything. It's just… sometimes we write something, and someone sees it. They don't need to leave a long comment. Even a simple reaction is enough. It makes you feel… like someone noticed you exist without putting pressure on you.”

Muluk laughed softly. “And that feels magical to you?” Farha grinned. “Sometimes, yes. Noraslida is an active follower, but not in an obsessive way. She doesn't interfere in my life. She just sends a little signal, like… are you okay, Farha? In this online world… sometimes that's enough. She's like a tiny rescuer for my quiet posts.”

Muluk nodded slowly. “Ooh… so she's like a ninja sending you energy from afar.” Farha smiled. “Exactly. Sometimes we need a small gesture, not extravagant praise. Just… a little acknowledgement.”

Muluk laughed, pointing his ice-cream spoon at her. “You're strange, but I like seeing you laugh. Don't forget I'm here too—making jokes and rescuing that broken wing of yours.”

Farha smiled gently. “I know. And maybe one day, this heart will fly again. But for now… cold coffee, Muluk's jokes, and a small signal from a follower who notices without intruding are enough.”

Farha drew a long breath. Her wing was broken, but she was learning to fly again. The world carried on as usual, but with a little less weight in her heart, that corner of the café felt… safe.