It was a perfect morning to begin a story.
The sun, unhurried, spilled its light across the bed for only a brief while before slipping away again, leaving the room in a gentle calm.
Muezza, the beloved cat, was still lazing on the thick blanket, her chin resting quietly as her eyes stared blankly at the lines on the floor. Hira pushed a small bowl of dried tuna toward her, but the cat ignored it completely.
The sky was overcast. Leaves by the terrace stood motionless, not a breath of wind stirred them. No flowers bloomed that morning. Only the faint chirp of an unknown bird and the occasional call of a food seller passing in front of the house gave life to the silence.
Hira wanted nothing. She was content simply to breathe and savor her free time. There was no television in her home, and she kept no social media—only Instagram, her single escape into the digital world. Sometimes she would peek at her tiny YouTube channel, though her subscribers could be counted on one hand.
This, she thought, was the calmest day she'd had in months—ever since she left that dream house. The house that had greeted her as if whispering, "Welcome, princess. No guards, no barriers—we've been waiting for you all along."
It was the house where she had met her true love. And yet, it was the house she had consciously chosen to leave. Even the sky seemed to mourn her departure.
But Hira blamed no one—not herself, not time, not circumstance. She accepted everything with an open heart. This was the reality she had to face. Everyone walks their own path, and God, in His perfection, never errs in guiding His creation. If she could not yet enjoy it, it simply meant the time had not come. But she believed—one day, it would.
She stood before the mirror, whispering her daily mantra:
Every second of every hour,
Everywhere on this earth,
Every day in every way,
Everything in my life is perfect,
And I am growing better and better.
These affirmations had become her solace. And often, songs that appeared at just the right moments carried messages only her heart could truly understand.
Just as the thought crossed her mind, a street musician arrived outside the gate, strumming a sitar*) and singing a Sundanese folk song with deep feeling. His lilting notes reminded Hira where she was—the City of Flowers, Bandung—not her hometown.
He began to sing Kalangkang, an old song of longing:
Mungguhing dina impenan
Geuning sakitu deudeuhna
In dreams you appear,
So pure, so dear,
A love untainted,
Faithful, eternal…
Hira let him finish, unwilling to cut short the moment. The song carried her back to her first love in Bandung, so many years ago.
Now she had returned, not for romance but for work. And yet the song arrived again—this time not to stir memories of old love, but to remind her of a new one. A love not bound to another person, but love for herself, for her life, complete with all its joys and sorrows.
Reaching this point had not been easy.
Her phone suddenly lit up with an Instagram notification. A quote appeared on the screen:
EVERYTHING COMES TO YOU AT THE RIGHT TIME
BE PATIENT
She smiled, tapped Like, and closed the app.
For today, that was enough.
☯☯☯
*) Sitar is a plucked stringed instrument originating from the Indian subcontinent, used in Hindustani clasical music.