The three of us,

Assalamualaikum w.b.t.

Little did I know,

that packing bags alone is a real life torture.

I feel like to cry every second of it.

I am alone, in my dorm.

My only roommate left, she's heading back to Kedah.

It is not the same, when you were left alone while your roommates went to the city to shop with friends.

It is not the same, when you were left alone while your roommates have classes.

It is not the same, because, the stuffs are still there. You know they'll come back.

This time, I am alone. No one is coming back.

I never say anything about Aimi leaving to Egypt, ain't it?

I was completely sad. And I kept it inside.

Let's rewind.

Back in the day, when all of Engineering students have to register to CFS, I came here wearing white hijab, no niqab, purple baju kurung and black shoes. The shoes that I wear everyday to classes. I always like lavender, that's why I wear that baju kurung even though it is an old one. With my new spectacles and all, I smiled when my mother took a photo of me with the blue banner about registration as a background. You know that smile, the oh-so-fake-of-me smile.

I have all my papers ready. I got a number, my number was called, I went inside the AMF Hall. I called it back then, Al-Malik Faisal Hall. In the hall, I was told what to do, I did it, stamped the only unstamped paper, gave all documents to a sister, got my ta'aruf bag, been asked whether I have a bank card or not and, done. On my way out of the hall, a brother called me, 'sister.' I was not ready, I was shocked, and I backed off. He was taken aback and his friends laugh. He asked, 'did you have this form?' I shook my head. He gave it to me, I went out. Safe and secure.

I fetch my mother, telling here I got the room that I least wanted. The room at the top of 9-storeys-mahallah. I called it college back then. How did I knew? Well, I've been researching before I arrived here.

So, I took all my bags out of the car trunk, heading to the elevator. One sister told me to use the elevator at the back. So I did. I went there and waited. I met another sister, sis Dalila, who was the first one to mention her name in front of me without asking me things. Inside the elevator, watching the numbers increasing, finally it stopped at level 9. I head out, turned right, and there you go – a whole line of dorms. Right and left. I don't exactly thought it would be like that, but I don't exactly thought it would be like what either.

The search for 939 begins. It happened to be on the right side of me. There were shoes outside the dorm, and I, half eager to know who will be my roommate. I pushed the door, and I see a brother laying in the bed. I closed back the door.

It was funny, now to think back about it.

Me, my sister and mother, waited for a few minutes. All the male relatives came out of the room and I got the chance to step in again. My roommate was beautiful, she still is. And her name is Aimi. She came from Ampang but studied at Kelantan. I left my bags, and left the room.

At the bottom of mahallah, we were ready to say goodbye to each other. We were and still are, a simple family. We don't have that moment where the mother will cry, hugging the daughter and so on. We just took two more photos, I shook hands with everybody and they left in the Camry. Oh and yes, my father gave me a few hundreds to live with until the allowance came in.

I made my way up again, alone. Arrived to see that Aimi was also gone with a full locker and a nice bedsheets I unpacked by my own of what's left. I already unpacked and gave back 4 luggages to my family. So I didn't have much to do. Another roommate came in before I went down earlier, a cute one. Her name is Izzati, and you can tell by her slang, she's from Kedah.

She also started to unpack her stuff, with the help of her sister. Izzati, along with her mother and sister, went down to eat. We were told many times that students can't go out any more after 6 o'clock. At that time, it was 5 more minutes to 6. They just bought stuffs from the stall. Aimi came back in. We both just do our things. Then Izzati came back, we ta'aruf again. We bonded really well. I was surprised.

The next day, another group of students came to register. We made a decision to walk around the CFS. We headed to the stalls that will only be open during Ta'aruf week and bought some stuffs. We shared money for things like broom and plastic bags. I told you, we bonded really well.

All along the week, we discovered new information about each other. How I don't eat vegetables and my love for Ice Lemon Tea. How Aimi was planning to go to Egypt. How Izzati doesn't know what Engineering was. It was fun.

We never broke up. Not even for a single event. We went everywhere together. I called our group personally, as the Three Musketeer. Little did I know, there will only be two left after a few months.

Before EPT and APT results came out, we were already befriended with friends from next door. Fatihah, Fatin, Khairunnisa' (whom we called Key) and Nasuha. They were and still are, four completely different personalities and yet managed to survive as roommates for a whole semester now. When we got the result, we exchanged it. I was the only one with my kind of result. I got exempted in English, which means I was free from 8 hours or maybe more English classes per week and I got Part II in Arabic. 8 hours of Arab class per week. Three of us, Aimi, Izzati and Key got Level 6 in English. Key also got Part II in Arab. The rest were Part I and other levels of English.

That was the point where, I felt a little bit deserted. I was different. You don't know how much I want to turn back and do my EPT all over again and maintain what I wrote to a Level 6 standard, or even lower.

Few more memorable events during my Ta'aruf week was:

1. I cried during my bai'ah in front of the Dean.
2. I thought that the CFS song sounded great when we were singing it together, all the Engineering students.
3. I decided to take Automotive as my major.
4. I discovered the meaning of procrastination
5. I got a book, when I answered a Chemical question. That was the time, when I first spoke, people was taken aback by my voice. I knew it.

And this voice also shocked the sisters in my class. The first class was Maths. I was seriously hoping and praying that it would be a madam. My hopes shattered as I saw a sir walked in and introduced himself. Brother Izzudin bin Sidek. We also have to introduce ourselves. Name, place live and ambition. I don't even remember a single brother name. I don't even see their faces. However, one particular ambition grabbed my attention, F1 engineer. That was almost the same as Automotive. Or is it the same?

When it was the time for sisters to introduce themselves, I was the last one. I said, “Assalamualaikum, my name is Amirah Hazwani binti Muhammad Azlan. Amirah. Shah Alam. Automotive Engineer.” I sat down.

Next will be Physics class. Again, I prayed, please be a madam. It was, a sir.

His name, sir Ashraf bin Fauzi.

We got the same class representative for both class. I don't care about this back then.

The next day, Arab class. Again, a sir. Ustaz Asyraf. I thought, great, same name. It doesn't thrilled me at all. This time, I found out that in my class, there are only a few students from daily school. It might be just two. Every time I introduce my school, SMK Alam Megah 2, people will react, 'what? SMK Agama Megah 2?' And I was stupefied.

I very much like my Maths sir as he doesn't ask much question about students. He taught us and leave.

I very much like my Physics sir as he is the one you can argue with. I argued with him about the weight of our textbook in our first class. It is 2 kg for god sake. He said it was 1 kg.

I very much like my Arab sir as he is well, good in Arab. I respect those who can speak Arab fluently.

Finally, we met our first madam.

Madam Nurul Hafidzah. She taught us Computer. She scared us at first, saying that she like to bar students from taking examination. However, throughout the semester, we fell in love with her and her teachings. I honestly studied Computer breathtakingly hard just not to disappoint her.

All in all, I can say that, I love my lecturers for who they are. For what they taught me. For everything. I know, they won't know how I felt toward them. But I do think they are the perfect teachers. I can't deny that I was devastated to leave my previous teachers as they taught me a lot and they knew me by heart. But then, sir Izzudin, sir Ashraf, ustaz Asyraf, madam Nurul Hafidzah and ustazah Salmiah, are all my teachers now. I am glad, I am proud.

Throughout the semester, sisters don't get along that much with brothers. However, I like the way we kept silent during our classes. I like the little havoc in Computer lab. I like the awkwardness when we had to pass each other during Physics lab. It was these little things, that made me love CFS 190. The reasons why, at the first week of class, when I was offered to move somewhere else, I declined.

Most of us chose the one-and-a-half-year programme. Anis, Farah and Syed chose one-year programme.

The peak of I might broke down was when the second-intake students came in. Those from DQ,and those from other parts of Malaysia came in. They got the exact results in EPT and APT. Whether exempted in both or just one. Our class reached the total of 40. And 10 of them have to go to another group, seperated by sir Ashraf. I don't like changes, but I accepted it slowly.

So now, here we are, 32 of us. I now know each one of you, even though you might not realise me. I have my class picture as the wallpaper of my Superkira. I love, my CFS 190. If I have to choose between staying in this group or a stock of Ice Lemon Tea for a whole year, I will choose staying. No doubt about that.

In happiness, there will be also sadness. The one thing that made me cry for almost every night and until now was the departure of Aimi. She told us when she got the offer to Cairo University. We try to adapt living here without her when she have to attend a week camp by the government. But, we always leave her bed ready for her when she come back. At least, until the point she will coming back. The last day I realised she won't coming back was during Mahallah Open Day. I chose to walk with Aimi and Izzati exactly where we walked during Ta'aruf week. I hold my tears, really, and waved to her as the bus took her away from us.

I texted her during the Fajr of her flight.

“Assalamualaikum, Aimi Diyana, sobahulkair :) Fi hazihis sa'ah, ana Amirah Hazwani mewakili bilik 939 dan 941 khususnya dan seluruh CFS amnya, ingin meminta maaf atas segala kesalahan dan mendoakan perjalanan Aimi ke sana dan di sana. Ingatlah bahawa kita pernah berjumpa, berkenalan dan kami sentiasa menyayangimu kerana Allah. Tuntutlah ilmu di bumi yang pernah dijejaki para anbiya' sebaik mungkin. Jaga solat, jaga iman, jaga diri :) Wahai Aimi Diyana, kamulah sesungguhnya 'permata' kami. Bayu dan angin Malaysia akan sentiasa berlagu dan menyampaikan rindu kami kepada kamu, insyaAllah. Wahai Aimi Diyana, uhibbuki fillah. InsyaAllah, bertemu kembali. Kalau tidak di dunia, fi jannah :)”

There were no Three Musketeers no more.

Izzati and I tried really hard to survive. As she is closer to Aimi than I, I know it was hard for her. I know because back in Alam Megah, I also have best friends. Aisyah, Mursyidah and I. Mursyidah went to Indonesia. Aisyah and I tried to survive. We are still trying. I have another, Farah. She is my neighbour. We were seperated by the border of Malacca. I went to see her once, and I almost cry when I left. She's my heart. All of them are my soul. Why one Earth, we can't be together?

Now, little did you all know, I don't have anyone to tell something. The main reason I write.

I love to send unimportant text messages. Like, 'hey, I eat veggies today,' or 'I can't sleep.' Those little things that I want to tell someone. But I don't have. Because, if I do send, people will think I am childish. Or even weird.

I don't know. I really don't.

At this point, I had spilled out almost everything. I have a lot more memories to write. But Physics are waiting, and bags also.

I just want someone to know, whoever read this, that I, Amirah Hazwani, always am alone, always seen alone, like to be alone but not every time. It is not every time I want to be alone.

Wallahua'lam.