The summer sun rippled across the tea fields, casting golden light over rows of thriving plants. The distant hum of cicadas became the soundtrack of the season—one that mirrored the soft and steady heartbeat of Phuby and Hana's new life in the Uji countryside.
It had been a few weeks since the delivery truck was purchased and integrated into their routines. Now, the rhythm of farming and family had begun to settle into something deeper: a lifestyle.
Phuby sat in the shaded veranda that wrapped around the farmhouse. The twins were asleep inside—finally—and he had a moment to breathe. A spreadsheet of delivery schedules glowed on his laptop screen while a steaming cup of coffee cooled beside it. The smell of roasted beans mingled with the summer breeze.
Hana appeared in the doorway, tying her hair into a loose bun. She was wearing one of Phuby's oversized white shirts—her favorite loungewear now. "I left a note for Emi-san," she said softly. "She'll come by later today with extra frozen food for the week."
Phuby smiled. "Thanks. I forgot to ask her about the new set of bento boxes."
"She already knows. Said she'll bring options."
This was their language now: quiet exchanges, shared duties, and a thousand small tasks passed like invisible threads between them.
As she joined him on the veranda, their eyes met with a kind of unspoken understanding. They didn't need to say "I'm tired" or "I love you" every time—it was all written in the simple way they moved through each day together.
"So," Hana said with a little nudge to his side, "what's on the agenda today, farmer-husband?"
He chuckled. "Tea leaves inspection with Kenta-san, lunch meeting with Yuriko and Yuji about the seasonal harvest, and then… I was thinking of setting up a proper little space for you in the workroom."
"Workroom?" she blinked. "I don't have a workroom."
"You will," he said. "I ordered a new desk and some gear using the system last night. Thought you might want to write or maybe do your watercolor again?"
Her eyes softened. "You remember I liked painting?"
"I remember everything," he said.
She turned away slightly, hiding her blushing cheeks behind her coffee mug.
Just then, the ding of the system interface echoed softly in Phuby's mind. He opened the translucent screen with a thought.
📢 SYSTEM NOTICEYou've spent more than Rp 10.000.000 — cashback activated.✅ Cashback Granted: Rp 30.000.000📦 Items delivered to storage area.
Previous Balance: Rp 32.223.000.000- Rp 15.000.000 (for desk, lighting, painting kit)+ Rp 30.000.000= New Balance: Rp 32.238.000.000
"Delivery's here," Phuby said with a grin.
"I swear, this system of yours is better than magic," Hana replied, shaking her head. "It's like a fairy tale… except there's no fairy godmother—just you."
"Hey, I'm charming enough."
"Debatable," she teased.
By midday, the farm was bustling again. Kenta Sakamoto and Om Luky walked together, discussing soil quality while inspecting the tea rows. Yuriko showed up with her two children, who were now familiar faces around the farmhouse. Yuji was already loading fresh vegetables into the delivery truck, his quiet demeanor hiding how efficient he'd become.
Phuby loved this part—the pulse of movement, the life of it all.
Even as he monitored the logistics and orders on his tablet, he still took time to help carry crates, laugh with the workers, and make sure everyone had enough iced tea in the heat.
After lunch, Hana took a nap with the twins while Phuby went to set up her new workspace in the upstairs tatami room. He arranged the desk beside the window where the mountain breeze could blow in. The watercolor kit was neatly placed in drawers, and a thick sketchbook sat waiting on the table.
When she discovered it that evening, she nearly cried. "You even remembered the grainy-texture paper I like?"
He nodded. "Maybe I asked your mom once…"
She threw her arms around him, whispering, "You're ridiculous. And perfect."
"Nope. Just lucky," he replied.
That night, they lay outside under the stars on a small futon spread on the veranda floor, listening to the wind in the bamboo. The sky above was ink-black and full of stars. The farmhouse was alive behind them with the soft sounds of their sleeping children and the hum of rural Japan.
"What do you think they'll grow up to be like?" Hana whispered.
"Our kids?" Phuby said, watching a slow-moving cloud. "I think they'll be kind. And stubborn. And creative."
She smiled. "Like us."
"Exactly like us."
A moment passed. Then Hana asked quietly, "Do you ever miss Indonesia?"
"Sometimes," he admitted. "But not enough to go back, besides if i ever want to eat indonesian food, i can just made those myself"
"I used to think I couldn't live anywhere but Tokyo," she said. "Now? I can't imagine waking up anywhere else."
They held hands as the breeze passed over them, full of green smells and the sleepy hum of crickets.
The countryside had given them more than they ever asked for—a life that was quiet, slow, rich in warmth and filled with possibility.
And tomorrow, it would begin again.