POV Aisha's Life
Graduation came quietly—without grand speeches, without exaggerated cheers. Just the clear morning sky, rows of white chairs neatly aligned across the courtyard, and the soft murmurs of families gathered beyond the school gates.
Aisha stood among her classmates in uniforms crisply pressed, the fabric stiff against her skin. Twelfth grade. Finished. The words felt strange, as if they belonged to someone else.
When her name was called, she stepped forward with measured pace, palms slightly damp. The applause sounded distant, muffled, as though filtered through a layer of water. She bowed politely to accept her diploma, fingers gripping the edge of the paper.
So… this is it, she thought. High school. Done.
Returning to her seat, she exhaled slowly.
A voice—the system—appeared in her mind, calm and precise.
[Host. Academic stage successfully completed.]
[Recommendation: prepare for the next phase.]
Aisha almost smiled. The system never missed a beat. "Do I get a reward?" she asked it.
"Of course. The host receives a savings fund: Rp 55,000,000."
Aisha blinked in surprise. "Really?"
"[Yes. That should cover several semesters of tuition, you know.]"
Her pulse quickened at the thought of college fees already taken care of.
After the formal ceremony ended, they didn't head straight home. To mark the occasion, a few friends decided to celebrate the final moments of their school life in the courtyard of one friend's house, not at the school. The yard was spacious, dotted with small trees, tidy and open—a perfect stage for the freedom freshly unshackled from school routines.
Laughter and cheers soon filled the air, colliding with the flashes of cameras capturing their last moments as students. Bela grabbed Aisha's hand, pulling her to the center of the yard. "Come on, don't just stand there!" she shouted. Nisa followed, carrying several bags of powdered color that made the air shimmer like a miniature rainbow.
On the other side, a few students opened fire hoses, and water sprayed upward, creating artificial rain. The droplets danced in the morning light, reflecting the sun's warm gleam.
Aisha watched, fascinated. Hands flung colorful powder into the air, the pigments swirling and sticking to hair, uniforms, and faces.
The scene somehow felt more than a simple celebration. It was like they were celebrating Diwali, amid laughter, rain, and bursts of color. There was something sacred, warm, and precious in that togetherness—as though this moment marked the closing of one chapter and the waiting of the next.
Aisha tilted her head, feeling the water and powder clinging to her face. She smiled, then joined in, tossing more color into the air. Their laughter merged with the splashes of water, creating a symphony of wild, joyous freedom.
"This is insane!" Aisha yelled, looking at Bela and Nisa, who were laughing unrestrained, their bodies melting into the beautiful chaos around them.
Other friends ran and leapt into the sprays, trying to catch flying colors, smearing pigments across each other's cheeks and hands. The sweet, faintly warm scent of the powders under the morning sun added a strange but delightful sensory thrill.
Aisha looked at Bela and Nisa—their familiar expressions, those tiny habits she had memorized without realizing it.
"We're really parting ways," she said softly.
"Not disappearing," Bela replied lightly. "Just walking in different directions."
Amid the chaos of laughter, swirling powders, and splashes from the artificial rain, Aisha was completely swept up in the joy with Bela and Nisa, tossing colors into the air and cheering loudly.
From across the yard, someone watched quietly. Raiz leaned slightly toward his friend, eyes fixed on Aisha as she laughed freely.
"Give this to her," he murmured, passing a small, neatly wrapped box to his friend, who darted quickly through the crowd toward Aisha.
At first, Aisha didn't notice; she was too busy dodging water sprays and brushing a streak of yellow powder from her cheek. But then a hand appeared in front of her, holding out the small package.
"For you," the friend said, breathless, stepping back.
Aisha froze for a moment. Her eyes lingered on the box—simple, unassuming, yet carefully wrapped. Curiosity prickled at her as she untied the ribbon and opened it. Nestled inside was a small teddy bear, its fur slightly worn but irresistibly charming.
"Who sent this?" she whispered.
The system responded instantly. [System detection: The gift is from Raiz.]
Warmth bloomed in Aisha's chest. She scanned the yard and caught Raiz's eyes from across the way. He offered a small, hesitant smile, a flicker of uncertainty in his gaze.
"Th-thank you," Aisha said softly, hugging the teddy bear as if it were the most precious thing in the world. Her cheeks warmed, partly from embarrassment, partly from the lingering powder dusting her slightly flushed face.
Raiz stiffened slightly, surprised she had noticed. He blinked, almost bashful, then stepped back to the edge of the crowd.
---
The acceptance letter arrived a week later.
Aisha read it twice. Then once more, more slowly:
State University. Faculty of Science (FMIPA). Accepted.
For several seconds, her mind went completely blank.
Then the system chimed.
[University acceptance confirmed.]
[Congratulations, Host.]
She chuckled softly, disbelief and a slight tremor in her hands.
College.
Moving day came with fewer tears than she had imagined.
Bela hugged her tightly. "Don't turn into a rigid scholar," she whispered.
Nisa slipped a small notebook into Aisha's hands. "For writing. Or thinking. Or quietly panicking."
Aisha promised she would write. Promised to visit. Promised more than she could fully guarantee.
As the bus finally pulled away, she watched the pesantren recede—the white walls, tiled roofs, memories stacked neatly, like the wooden blocks they had lifted together years ago.
Heavy. But necessary.
College life arrived swiftly, without ceremony.
Lecture halls buzzed with unfamiliar voices. Students debated openly, asked questions, challenged lecturers without hesitation. No one cared how neatly her hijab was worn, or whether she spoke too much—or too little.
She learned to take notes quickly, to raise her hand without rehearsing sentences ten times in her head.