It's near the end of term. The boarding house is in chaos; cardboard boxes, luggage, unwanted books and paperwork scattered everywhere. Yuni's room looks like it's been hit by a whirlwind so I decide to help with her last-minute packing.
We spend the night reminiscing. Throughout the first term I worked late every night in Yuni's room because my roommate wanted to sleep. Once, as we explored Oxford, Yuni and I were confronted by a drunken racist. When I felt homesick, Bruneian seniors consoled me. Yet, many of the girls who have held my hand will be going for good. I feel a surge of emotions knowing that I may never see them again.
Though we are not family, we live in the same house. Though we have different ethnicity, we acquire knowledge in the same school. We attend different classes but we always catch up in the hallway or have cosy chats till midnight. Studying at a boarding school enables you to forge close friendships.
As I hug her goodbye for the last time, Yuni says: 'The path between friends is measured not in miles but in memories.'