I woke up with a throbbing head and a body slightly on fire, courtesy of my eldest who had generously shared her flu. Not ideal timing, but then again, life rarely checks your temperature before handing you milestones. The show must go on, they say. And so it did.
By 10 a.m., slightly dizzy but fully committed, we landed at the marketing gallery of a new apartment. From there, straight to the bank to deal with the DP. One foot in logistics mode, the other quietly negotiating with my immune system. Somewhere in between signatures and small talk, I kept thinking, just get through today.
We waited at The People’s for brunch while the bank people made their way to us. Eggs, coffee, patience. Exactly at noon, they arrived. Papers were signed. Hands were shaken. And just like that, the akad was done. Super smooth. Almost suspiciously smooth.
I kept waiting for a plot twist that never came. Everything flowed. No drama. No delays. No last-minute surprises. Just grace, stacked neatly on top of effort. I whispered a quiet thank you because sometimes disbelief is best answered with gratitude.
The dream penthouse is no longer a concept, a Pinterest board, or a someday. It’s real now. And it wouldn’t have happened this seamlessly without Mba Syifa and Mas Jo, who handled everything with calm competence and genuine care. Some people don’t just do their jobs well, they carry your nerves for you. That matters.
After everything was wrapped up, there was still room for possibility. A casual conversation with Syifa’s manager turned into a discussion about future collaboration. Connections were made. I looped them in with Cleansheet for next week. Even on low battery, life still found a way to expand.
Then I went home and completely collapsed.
A long afternoon nap. Dinner. Medicine. Back to bed. The body finally claimed what it was owed.
And as I drifted off, feverish but deeply content, one sentence kept echoing in my head like a lullaby: all is well, all is good.
Amen.
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