The morning sun broke through the curtains, painting Siti's room in soft gold. She woke before the alarm on her small watch could beep. Excitement thrummed in her chest, pushing away the usual heaviness that lingered after waking. Today was the day. Today she would go to the orphanage.
She dressed carefully, choosing her neatest baju kurung—light pink with tiny flower patterns—and combed her hair straight. She tied it back with a simple rubber band, wanting to look presentable. After a quick breakfast of bread and warm tea, she hopped onto her bicycle and pedaled toward the address Safura had given her.
The road stretched quiet in the early morning. Birds chirped from the trees, and the air was still cool. Siti's heart raced with every turn of the pedal, her mind filled with questions. What if the kids don't like me? What if I do something wrong?
But then she remembered Safura's kind smile and her words: "You'll do wonderfully." That thought gave her courage.
---
The orphanage stood at the end of a quiet lane, surrounded by tall bougainvillea plants blooming with purple and pink flowers. A simple signboard read: "Rumah Kasih Sayang." The building was painted cream, with wide windows that let the sunlight in. Siti stopped at the gate, clutching the strap of her bag nervously.
Before she could decide whether to knock or call out, the gate opened. Safura appeared, her warm smile instantly calming Siti's nerves.
"Siti! You came," Safura said. "I'm so glad."
Siti bowed her head politely. "Assalamualaikum, Kak Safura."
"Waalaikumussalam. Come in, come in." Safura gestured for her to follow.
Inside, the compound was lively. Children's laughter rang out from the playground at the side yard, where a few boys chased each other while a girl pushed her younger friend on the swing. The sound of joy filled the air, so different from the silence of Siti's own home.
Safura led her through the entrance, where rows of small shoes were neatly lined against the wall. The interior was simple but warm—colorful drawings covered the walls, each one signed with a child's name. A large carpeted area had stacks of books, soft toys, and board games.
"Before anything," Safura said gently, "let me introduce you to the children. They've been waiting to meet someone new."
Siti's stomach tightened, but she nodded.
---
The children gathered in the main hall, their curious eyes fixed on the newcomer. They ranged in age—some as young as four, others around ten or eleven.
"Everyone," Safura said, clapping her hands once, "this is Siti. She will be spending time with you, playing and helping around. Let's welcome her."
A chorus of voices rose: "Hi, Kak Siti!"
Siti blinked in surprise. Kak Siti. The title made her feel older, respected. She bowed slightly. "Hello… I'm Siti. Nice to meet all of you."
A small boy with messy hair stepped forward. "Do you like football?" he asked.
Siti hesitated, then smiled. "I don't play well… but I can try."
The children laughed, and the ice broke instantly.
---
The rest of the morning was a blur of activity. The boys dragged her outside to join their football game. Though she stumbled and missed the ball more than once, her laughter mixed with theirs until she forgot her worries. When the ball rolled too far, a girl named Aina tugged her sleeve and asked, "Can Kak Siti read to us later? We have storybooks."
After the game, Siti sat cross-legged on the big carpet inside while a group of children crowded around her. She read aloud from a colorful fairy tale book, showing them the pictures. Their faces lit up with excitement, their small voices gasping and laughing at each twist in the story.
For the first time in her life, Siti felt like she mattered. The children listened to her, wanted her around, and filled the empty corners of her heart with their joy.
---
At lunchtime, everyone sat together in the dining hall. Plates of rice, fried chicken, and vegetables were set on the long tables. The children said prayers before eating, their voices blending in harmony. Siti sat among them, sharing food, passing dishes, and laughing at their playful chatter.
She noticed how naturally they accepted her, as if she had always belonged there. And deep inside, she felt the warmth of something she had almost forgotten—the warmth of family.
Safura watched from a distance, smiling quietly.
---
In the afternoon, Safura guided Siti to a quieter corner of the orphanage. "You did well today," she said kindly. "The children already like you."
Siti blushed. "They… they're very kind. I didn't know I could feel this happy again."
Safura placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Siti, I know life has been hard for you. But remember this—being strong doesn't always mean carrying everything alone. Sometimes, strength is letting others be with you."
Siti's throat tightened. She wanted to say thank you, but the words stuck. Instead, she nodded firmly.
"Tomorrow," Safura continued, "come again. We'll have more activities. And don't worry about mistakes—what matters most is your heart. The children can see your sincerity."
---
When it was time to leave, the children clung to her arms and begged her to come back soon. "Promise, Kak Siti?" Aina asked, her big eyes shining.
Siti smiled, her chest swelling with something she hadn't felt in a long time—belonging. "I promise. I'll come tomorrow."
As she cycled home that evening, the road seemed shorter, the air sweeter. She had work now—not just a way to earn money, but a place where she wasn't alone. A place filled with laughter, where she could give and receive love.
For the first time in a long while, she whispered a quiet prayer of gratitude.
And she knew, deep in her heart, that this was just the beginning.