The morning sun bathed the third-floor rooftop in warm gold, filtering through the thin clouds as birds chirped softly in the distance. Breakfast was laid out neatly on the small folding table—plates of fried rice with sunny-side eggs, warm tofu fritters, and a pitcher of sweet tea. It was a quiet weekend morning, and for the first time in a long while, the entire family was eating in peace without the background chaos of baking trays and customer orders ringing out below.
The shop downstairs had reached a new rhythm. After weeks of training and careful supervision, the staff had grown capable and confident. Deliveries went out like clockwork. Online orders were prepared and packaged without constant oversight. It had reached the point where Phuby, Wulan, and Om Luky could finally step back and breathe.
Phuby leaned back in his chair, fork dangling lazily from his hand as he stared off into the blue sky. The rooftop breeze ruffled his t-shirt, and beside him, Hana sat cross-legged, sipping tea with her eyes half-closed, enjoying the warmth of the sun.
"Ma, Om…" Phuby started, his voice thoughtful. "I've been thinking."
Mrs. Wulan raised an eyebrow without looking up from her food. "That's dangerous."
Om Luky chuckled, pouring more tea for himself. "He's got that look again."
"I'm serious," Phuby grinned, then glanced at Hana, who tilted her head curiously. "The shop's running smoothly now. We've got good people downstairs. Orders are steady, and we've all been sleeping a little better."
"And?" Wulan asked, finally setting her spoon down.
Phuby exhaled. "I was thinking it might be time to look for something more permanent for us. A bigger place, maybe even land to build on. Something near here, so we're still close to Palm Sari, but a real house—a mansion, maybe."
Hana blinked. "A mansion?"
He shrugged, almost sheepishly. "Not like a crazy rich person one. Just… something proper. With space. For everyone. A kitchen you don't have to share with the shop. Bedrooms with actual windows. Maybe a little garden."
Wulan folded her arms, leaning back in her seat. "You're serious."
"I wouldn't bring it up if I wasn't," Phuby said. "We've spent three months living above the bakery. I'm grateful, but we've all noticed it's… cramped. Especially on busy days."
Om Luky gave a small nod. "It would be nice to stretch our legs. You've done well managing everything so far."
Hana leaned closer. "Would it be nearby?"
"That's the plan," Phuby said. "I don't want to live far. The shop is doing great, and I want to stay hands-on. Just not… twenty-four seven."
"Sounds like a big step," Wulan said quietly. "Do you already have land in mind?"
"Not yet," Phuby admitted. "But I thought I'd talk to you all first. I want this to be something we decide together."
There was a short silence. The kind that came when everyone was genuinely thinking.
"I like the idea," Hana finally said. "You've worked so hard to make this place stable. If it means you and your family get to live more comfortably, then I support it."
"Thank you," he said, giving her a warm smile.
Om Luky nodded thoughtfully. "We'll need to look at land prices. And maybe talk to an architect, if you want to build from scratch."
"We'll also need permits," Wulan added. "Zoning laws and all that. It's not just buying—it's planning too."
"I know," Phuby said. "But I think we can manage it. With the system's help… we'll have the funds soon enough."
He didn't say more than that, not here in front of Hana. But she understood. So did Wulan and Om Luky. The secret of the mysterious financial system—the one that doubled Phuby's spending into cashback—remained only between them.
"You're not rushing into this just because you have money, right?" Wulan asked carefully.
Phuby shook his head. "No. I'm doing this because we've earned the right to dream. We've built something good. I want to build the next step."
Hana reached out and laced her fingers with his. "Then let's look at places together."
He smiled, a mix of excitement and nervousness buzzing in his chest.
As they cleaned up the breakfast dishes, the rooftop filled with quiet conversations—small plans, teasing, casual jokes. But beneath it all was a shared sense of forward motion. Something had shifted. Their lives, once held together by day-to-day survival, were now headed toward something bigger.
Back downstairs, the familiar hum of the shop resumed. The team of hired friends—Dhe'ik, Kotim, Apood, and Amad—were already busy managing deliveries and customer service. Mamad had stopped by that morning just to hang out for a while before reopening his family's Nasi Goreng stall. He refused the job offer, but he had promised to be a frequent visitor when time allowed.
The shophouse now fully belonged to Phuby, bought clean without a single rupiah in debt, thanks to the system's double cashback mechanics. What had started as a rented space now stood as a symbol of independence—and a foundation for something greater.
As the sun climbed higher, Phuby stared out the front glass window of Toko Kue Palm Sari and let himself imagine the mansion. A big kitchen for his mother. A music room for Hana. A garden in the back. Enough rooms for everyone. Maybe even space to build a home studio someday.
He was done surviving.
Now, he was building.
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