Chapter 64: About Hendra and Gita

I didn’t hear it wrong, did I? Kenn mentioned Gita’s name. So, Gita is his brother’s first love?

"Wait," I murmured softly. "Something’s not right."

I lightly hit my head with my right hand, trying to recall something that felt off. There was a fragment of thought that hadn’t been put together properly. It felt like there was one important fact I had forgotten. But what was it?

I paced back and forth with a chaotic mind, trying to squeeze my brain as hard as I could.

"What is it?"

I glanced at him. Kenn showed a confused yet annoyed expression when he saw my behavior.

"Be quiet for a moment. I’m thinking."

Kenn frowned. "Thinking about what?"

"I feel like I’ve forgotten something," I replied quickly. "And it feels important."

I kept walking back and forth in front of Kenn, desperately trying to remember something I had forgotten. Why, at a crucial moment like this, could I forget?

Oh, I know!

I suddenly stopped and looked at Kenn. "I remember now! You said earlier that Gita is Hendra’s first love, right?"

"So? What’s the problem?"

"Of course there’s a problem! If it’s true that Gita was his first love, then why at school did Gita not know your name at all? Doesn’t that make no sense? How could she not know the younger brother of the guy she loved?" I demanded.

Kenn let out a long breath and clicked his tongue. He looked at me as if I had just asked the stupidest question in the world.

"There’s nothing strange about it," he said flatly.

I raised an eyebrow. "Nothing strange?"

“They never dated,” Kenn explained. “Hendra never confessed his feelings.”

I fell silent. “So all this time—”

“Yes,” Kenn cut in. “One-sided,” he continued, then walked away from me.

I stood frozen. “Unrequited love,” I murmured softly.

A love journey that never reached its destination. Sometimes first love really doesn’t always end sweetly. Truly tragic.

I exhaled, trying to calm myself. Only then did I realize that the scenery was actually very enchanting.

“This place is beautiful,” I said softly, more to myself.

I thought this was some kind of small hill. Down below, there were stretches of lush trees, residential areas, and green rice fields belonging to farmers.

I inhaled the clean air deeply. However, my reverie stopped when I realized Kenn had gone farther away.

"Kenn! Wait for me!" I ran after him into a small house behind us.

“Whose house is this?” I asked while sweeping my gaze around the entire room. There were no partitions, just a space of about twenty-five square meters.

“A place where Hendra used to spend his time,” Kenn answered.

I walked around and reflexively waved my hand when dust, dirt, and several snack wrappers greeted my sight.

“It looks like it hasn’t been cleaned for a long time.”

“Since Hendra left, no one has taken care of it,” Kenn said softly.

I watched Kenn open the windows on both sides of the room. Instantly, sunlight broke through the wide-open windows. The wind followed without hesitation, making me feel a little relieved.

The room was dominated by brown tones. The floor, a small shelf containing several books, and two chairs were all made of brown wood.

The walls were filled with various paintings. On the right side, there was a painting of a little girl playing in a park. Beside it, there were many paintings of a teenage girl with various expressions while reading a book.

“Wait a second,” I murmured when I realized something. “Kenn,” I called softly.

He turned around.

“All these paintings….” I swallowed. “They have the same face.”

Kenn stepped closer. “You recognize that face.”

“Gita,” I whispered. “These are all Gita, aren’t they?”

“Yes,” he answered shortly.

I turned to Kenn with a panicked look. “Who painted all of these? Oh my God, or could it be—”

“Hendra painted them,” Kenn replied while touching one of the frames with the tip of his finger. “Hendra loved Gita very much. She was the greatest source of his inspiration all this time.”

“If he loved her that much, why didn’t they just date? Why did he only keep it in the form of paintings?” I asked curiously.

“Because Hendra was a guy who only dared to admire from afar,” Kenn said with a bitter tone.

“So you mean they never really knew each other? Never talked at all?”

“They did, but that happened years ago. Hendra said he once fell while learning to ride a motorcycle. His knee was badly injured, then Gita came to help him. At that time, Gita might still have been in elementary school.”

“Just because of that incident?”

“Handkerchief,” Kenn cut in quickly. “Gita wrapped Hendra’s wound with her handkerchief. That was the object that made Hendra always remember her. But ironically, even until the end of his life, Hendra still could not ride a motorcycle at all. Truly pathetic.”

Kenn let out a small laugh, but there was a trace of sadness there.

“I’m sure when he fell back then, Gita must have felt very confused seeing a boy crying his eyes out in front of her,” he added.

“Was Hendra really that much of a crybaby? He looks like a gentle guy in these paintings,” I commented.

“You don’t believe it? Hold on, I have proof,” Kenn said while rummaging through the bookshelf. He took out a photo album and opened it eagerly. “Here, look at this. I took this photo when Hendra was in the seventh grade of junior high school.”

I looked at the photo and couldn’t hold back my laughter. There was a picture of a teenage boy crying because of a small wound on his elbow.

“He really cried just because of a wound this small?”

“Of course. And every time he cried, I always deliberately took his photo to mock him mercilessly,” Kenn smiled sincerely, as if Hendra were here with us. “He finally gave up learning how to ride a motorcycle after slipping into a river in the ninth grade of junior high school. Since then, he suffered severe trauma.”

I shook my head as I watched Kenn’s laughter grow louder. I was glad he could finally laugh freely. Memories of his older brother clearly had a very strong impact on him. His eyes sparkled as he told Hendra’s foolish stories. He looked so happy.

However, that happiness only lasted for a moment. A few seconds later, his laughter faded. He walked toward a canvas board covered with an old, dingy white cloth in the corner of the room.

“What’s wrong, Kenn?” I asked softly.

He didn’t answer. His trembling hand slowly pulled back the white cloth.

At that very moment, Kenn’s gaze turned empty.

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