The weekend stretched before me like an ocean of possibility and nerves. Though Saturday and Sunday were supposed to be days of rest, I found myself restless, my mind looped endlessly through the moments leading up to Monday's orientation. Each morning, I awoke before dawn, muscles tensed, heart pounding. My phone lay on the nightstand, inert and silent—no message from Everafter, no missed call, no hopeful email.
On Saturday, I tried to distract myself with sketches. I spread tracing paper across my desk, drafting variations of ceremony arches and canopy layouts. My pencil flew, reflecting the secrecy of my thoughts: tent frames that resembled blossoming trees, color swatches of ivory and blush, schematic diagrams for modular seating. Yet every time I paused, my eyes drifted to the unopened emails in my inbox. Was the acceptance notice already waiting to be unwrapped? Or would I discover, in the cold digital lines of an email, that my folder had been lost in the shuffle of Professor Hartono's pile?
By Sunday evening, my nerves had frayed to near-breaking. I scarcely ate dinner, picking at steamed vegetables while my mother observed me with concerned eyes.
"You're too quiet," she said, gently nudging my arm. "Talk to me."
I swallowed, setting down my chopsticks. "I'm fine, Ma. Just… thinking about Monday."
She offered me a small, reassuring smile. "Good thoughts, I hope."
"Mostly good," I lied, forcing a grin. Inside, though, my chest tightened at the thought of facing Everafter's sleek office for the first time. What if they didn't call my name? What if I stood in orientation, scanning the room for familiar faces, and saw only strangers? Worse—even shadows of disappointment as I realized I hadn't been chosen.
When I finally climbed into bed, I lay awake for hours, staring at the ceiling. My phone sat on the nightstand like a silent sentinel, promising nothing. I checked it one more time before surrendering to exhaustion: still nothing. I turned off the light, but sleep came fitfully, filled with dreams of empty seats and unanswered questions.
Monday arrived in a swirl of pale light and fluttering butterflies in my stomach. I woke at 5:30 AM, half-expecting to see a missed-call notification glowing on my sleeping phone. There was nothing. I rubbed my face, willing my eyes to focus. Morning air filtered through the window, tinged with the scent of frangipani blossoms drifting in from the courtyard below. The familiar rhythm of campus life—distant honks, vendors setting up stalls, birds chirping—already hummed through the air. Yet each sound clanged against my nerves, reminding me of the hours ticking down to orientation.
I dressed carefully: a crisp white shirt, navy slacks, my leather belt polished until it gleamed. I slipped on my watch, adjusting it until it felt like an extension of my wrist instead of a foreign object. I glanced at myself in the mirror: dark hair neatly combed, eyes alert but still shadowed by the tension of the weekend. I straightened my posture, drawing in a deep breath of morning air.
"Today is the day," I told my reflection. "No more 'what-ifs.' It's real now."
In the kitchen, my mother had prepared my favorite breakfast: scrambled eggs with chopped scallions and a side of toasted whole-grain bread. I ate in near silence, save for the occasional clink of spoon against plate. She watched me quietly, as though waiting for some sign of relief in my expression. But all I could feel was my pulse hammering beneath my ribs.
"I'll leave in twenty minutes," I said at last, standing. "Wish me luck."
She reached out, placing a hand on my shoulder. "You've worked hard for this. Good luck, Nak."
I offered her a small nod and gave her a quick hug. Her warmth settled in my chest, knitting together the frayed edges of my nerves.
Outside, the road sparkled with early dew. Vendors already set up their carts—buah potong with fresh papaya and melon, the aroma of lemongrass chicken soup drifting from a roadside warung. I inhaled deeply. Even in my anxiety, Jakarta's pulse was comforting, a reminder that life moved forward regardless of my own uncertainties.
I reached campus at 6:45 AM, far earlier than my classmates. The architecture building loomed ahead—modernist glass and steel, a testament to the concrete ambitions nurtured within. I paused at the entrance, tracing the contours with my eyes, and saw Raka waiting beneath the shade of a bougainvillea tree.
He greeted me with a bright grin and two cups of iced coffee—extra strong for me, he said, "to power through any awkwardness." His gesture warmed me; even in this early hour, his energy sparked hope.
"Any news yet?" he asked, handing me a cup.
"Nothing," I sighed, accepting the coffee. The cold liquid stung pleasantly as it went down. "Phone's silent. But I guess that's normal. They haven't opened the office yet."
Raka nodded sagely. "Emails usually come later in the morning. The call or email could arrive anytime. Just keep your phone close."
I took a cautious sip. "Right. And no collapsing in the hallway when I hear my name."
He laughed. "If you collapse, I'll catch you. Now let's get some breakfast from the coffee cart. We've earned it."
We drifted toward the assembled carts just outside the student lounge. I ordered a spinach-and-cheese croissant to soak up the coffee, and Raka went for a slice of banana bread. We claimed two stools and munched in companionable silence, watching the sun climb higher and campus life unfurl around us.
At exactly 8:15 AM, my phone buzzed in my pocket. My heart lurched. I fumbled it out, nearly toppling the coffee cup.
A new email notification glowed on the lock screen:
> Subject: Internship Acceptance – Everafter Wedding Planning
From: Ms. Laras [email protected]
I stared, blinking against the sudden rush of adrenaline. My fingers trembled as I tapped to open.
> Dear Mr. Agung Rokhman,
Congratulations! We are pleased to inform you that you have been selected for the three-month internship at Everafter Wedding Planning. Your first day will be next Monday, June 16, at 9:00 AM at our Jakarta office located at Jl. Merpati No. 23.
Please arrive fifteen minutes early for registration. You will be reporting to Ms. Chandra Rokayah, Senior Wedding Coordinator. A detailed orientation schedule is attached. We look forward to welcoming you to our team.
Warm regards,
Ms. Laras, Director of Talent & Development
Everafter Wedding Planning
My chest felt as though it might burst. I stared at the email, counting each word as if it were a precious gem. Selected. First day next Monday. Report to Chandra Rokayah. Words tumbled through my mind in a dizzying cascade.
I lifted my head to find Raka watching me, his brow raised, mouth slightly open.
"They… they accepted me," I whispered, voice trembling with disbelief.
Raka's grin split his face; he thumped me on the back. "Yes! I knew it! You did it!" His cup rattled against the table. "Congratulations, Agung!"
I shut my eyes, drawing in a shaky breath. "Thank… thank you." My throat felt constricted, as though it had swelled inside. I read the email again, confirming each detail: orientation next Monday at nine. The office address. The reporting time.
"Orientation at their office," Raka repeated, as if saying it aloud would make the reality more permanent. "It's real."
I nodded, blinking rapidly to clear my vision. "Real." My pulse pounded so loudly I thought everyone within earshot could hear. Sweat prickled at my temples. In that moment, all the nervousness of the past week and a half crystallized into a single, potent feeling: a mixture of triumph and raw, unfiltered anxiety. I had achieved what I set out to do, yet now, the true challenge was only beginning.
Raka stood and offered me his hand. "Come on—let's celebrate. But not too crazily. Coffee and banana bread, remember?"
I laughed, placing my hand in his. "Coffee and banana bread. That's all I need to feel semi-normal again."
We finished our breakfast, and as I tucked my phone back into my pocket, I realized how small the world suddenly felt. Something so large—an all-new chapter of my life—had been compressed into that little device. I glanced at my watch: 8:30 AM. Still plenty of time before my first class, but the rest of the day seemed to blur now that the email had arrived.
The hours that followed were a mix of buoyant optimism and lingering trepidation. In each lecture, I found myself half-present, listening to structural equations and material properties but my mind racing ahead to next Monday. I pictured the sleek marble lobby of Everafter's office, the scent of fresh flowers in the foyer, the array of celebratory stationery on polished desks. I tried to focus, taking notes with extra care—trying, perhaps, to anchor myself to the familiar rhythms of student life before plunging into a new professional realm.
After my final class, I met Raka at our usual spot by the studio lab. He slapped me on the back as I approached.
"So, superstar," he said with a wink, "how does it feel to be officially part of the Everafter team?"
I took a slow breath, letting out the excitement and nerves in equal measure. "It feels… surreal. And a little terrifying." I chuckled. "My portfolio is full of concrete, steel, and glass. Tomorrow, I'm going to figure out how to talk about floral arches and table centerpieces."
Raka grinned. "You'll adapt. You're an architect, after all. Now, let's go tell your mom."
Home was warm with the familiar comforts of my mother's cooking. She greeted me in the hallway, arms open. I hugged her, my phone buzzing again with messages from friends and classmates congratulating me.
"I got in," I said, voice bright despite the lingering tremor. "Orientation next Monday, reporting to Chandra Rokayah."
Her eyes lit up. "Please tell me you'll have time to rest this weekend!" She ushered me to the kitchen, where a pot of steaming soup waited on the stove.
I smiled, the laughter in my chest loosening a knot of anxiety. "I will. But first, I need to celebrate a little."
"Good," she said, ladling soup into a bowl. "You deserve it." Her eyes lingered on me with pride. "I knew you could do it."
I sat at the table, eating with newfound vigor. Every spoonful tasted of triumph—yet beneath it, I could feel the gentle flutter of apprehension. The weeks ahead would be filled with new challenges: meeting Chandra, learning the logistics of wedding planning, balancing my architecture studies with this internship. But for tonight, under the gentle kitchen light and the comforting aroma of home-cooked soup, I allowed myself to bask in the moment.
I finished my bowl and let my mother clear the dishes. Sitting at the table, I stared out the window at the darkening sky, stars beginning to prick through the twilight haze. Monday would come soon enough. For now, I savored the stillness—the sweet afterglow of success and the quiet thrill of standing on the threshold of something entirely new.
"Tomorrow," I whispered to the night, "I take my first steps into the world of Everafter."
And with that promise, I climbed the stairs to my room, my heart racing with possibilities.