The morning light slipped through the farmhouse shoji screens with a soft, golden glow. Birds chirped outside, the garden swaying with early summer breezes. Inside, the gentle rustle of tatami mats and soft baby giggles filled the air. It had been over a year since Phuby and Hana first set foot in Japan for what was supposed to be a simple vacation. Since then, everything had changed.
Phuby sat on the engawa with a steaming cup of green tea in hand, wearing his loose linen homewear. From his position, he could see the green hills of Uji in the distance, the neat rows of tea crops just beginning to catch the morning dew. It was peaceful—almost too peaceful for the kind of life he had come from.
Behind him, laughter burst out. Haru Soewandi, the older twin by just a few minutes, was crawling full speed across the tatami, with Yui Soewandi toddling behind him on wobbly legs. Hana's soft voice followed as she called out to them in Japanese and Bahasa interchangeably, mixing her joy and surprise in each phrase.
"Yui! Pelan-pelan! Don't fall—eh, kamu cepat banget sih, Haru!"
Phuby chuckled. It was surreal, seeing his children—his actual children—laughing and playing on the floor of a home he never imagined having a year ago.
From that first nervous trip to Tokyo, to marrying Hana in both Japan and Indonesia, to moving into the Kyoto farmhouse—everything felt like a series of dreams he never dared to imagine. Then came the news of Hana's pregnancy. Nine months of learning, preparing, and struggling. The moment they met their twins for the first time, Phuby remembered crying without shame.
After the twins' birth, they had spent three full months living quietly on the farm, adjusting to parenthood, setting routines, and finding joy in the ordinary. The farmhouse had been renovated into a warm, modern Japanese home, with separate nursery space, a tatami living room, and even a wooden hinoki bath in the back garden where they sometimes soaked together under the stars.
Their staff—Kenta, Yuji, Yuriko, and Emi-san—had quickly become like family. The farm work was handled smoothly, and Emi's gentle presence as a part-time housekeeper helped them rest when parenting got too overwhelming.
Phuby checked the system interface idly. The balance hadn't changed from the last transaction. No new shop update today. But he didn't mind. For once, he wasn't chasing numbers or shops or cashback. He was content.
A tiny thump at the door made him turn.
Yui had crawled all the way out to the engawa and was trying to pull herself up onto the porch. Her little dress flared out, cheeks puffed as she pouted in frustration.
Phuby set his tea down, scooped her up, and kissed her forehead. "You're just like your mom—headstrong and too curious for your own good."
"Papa," she babbled, reaching for his nose.
"Yup, that's me."
Moments later, Hana appeared, holding Haru who was now sucking on a pacifier shaped like a little strawberry. Her hair was tied in a messy bun, and she looked tired, but radiant.
"I swear, these two don't run out of energy."
"That's because they have your spirit," Phuby teased.
Hana grinned. "And your appetite."
They sat together on the porch, babies in arms, staring out over the rows of green. It had become their routine every morning. A quiet reminder that they'd built something beautiful here—together.
"Do you realize," Hana said after a long pause, "we've been here over a year now?"
Phuby looked out at the field. "Yeah. I do. A year ago, I was a livestreamer sleeping five hours a night trying to scrape up some savings. Then you walked into my life like some Ghibli heroine."
"And you," Hana said, elbowing him, "showed up like a supporting character that ended up becoming the main lead."
They both laughed.
Then, without thinking, Hana whispered, "Do you think we'll stay here forever?"
Phuby looked at her, seriously for a moment. "I don't know. Life changes. Maybe the twins will grow up and want the city. Maybe we'll want to expand. But I do know this—we'll always have a home here."
She nodded, her eyes a little glassy.
"Thank you, Phuby."
He pulled her close with his free arm. "No. Thank you. For everything."
Just then, Haru let out a gurgling giggle, throwing his pacifier like a tiny grenade.
Phuby and Hana burst out laughing again, the sound mingling with the birdsong and breeze.
Whatever the future held, they had this moment. This peaceful life, this family, this home.
And as the sun climbed higher into the Uji sky, the twins cuddled close in their parents' arms—safe, loved, and already dreaming of tomorrow.