The blue electric bicycle stood proudly near the entrance of Rumah Kasih Sayang, gleaming under the afternoon sun. Its frame still smelled faintly of polish, and the battery had been freshly charged the night before. For Siti, it wasn't just a bicycle—it was proof that she could dream, work toward something, and finally hold it in her hands.
But for the children gathered around her, it was something else entirely: a magical machine.
"Wah, it looks like a motorbike!" exclaimed Amir, running his small fingers along the handlebars.
"Can I sit first, Kak Siti? Please, please!" Aina begged, clasping her hands together dramatically.
"No, I asked first!" argued Hafiz, bouncing on his heels.
Siti laughed, holding up both hands like a referee. "Okay, okay, calm down. Everyone will get a turn. But you have to listen to my rules, or no one rides."
The group of children instantly fell silent, nodding eagerly.
"My first rule," Siti said, her voice serious but playful, "is no pushing or fighting. If you push, you go to the back of the line."
"Yes, Kak Siti," they chorused.
"My second rule—hold tight to the handle when you sit. No letting go, no acting like superheroes."
The kids giggled but agreed.
"And my last rule…" Siti paused for effect. "You must smile the whole time. No sad faces allowed."
The children burst out laughing, and the tension melted away.
---
Siti let Aina climb onto the bicycle first. Her tiny feet barely touched the pedals, but her face glowed with excitement as she settled into the seat.
"Okay, Aina, I'll ride slowly. You just enjoy, alright?"
"Alright!" Aina squealed.
Siti started the motor and carefully guided the bicycle around the orphanage compound. The hum of the motor was soft, but the laughter from Aina was loud and full of joy.
"Wheee! I'm flying!" Aina shouted, gripping the handlebars tightly.
The other children clapped and cheered as Siti made a gentle circle and returned to the starting point. Aina hopped off, still giggling. "That was the best ride ever!"
Hafiz was next, followed by Amir, then the younger ones like Iman and little Sofi. Each child reacted differently—some screamed with laughter, others stayed quiet but smiled wide, and a few pretended they were race car drivers.
Siti made sure to go slow, her eyes always on the road, her hands steady. It wasn't about speed; it was about giving them a memory.
---
After everyone had a turn, the children gathered under the big mango tree, breathless and glowing with excitement.
"Kak Siti, your bicycle is like magic," Hafiz declared.
"It's not magic," Siti said, smiling as she wiped sweat from her forehead. "It's just electric. But do you know what makes it really special?"
The children leaned in curiously.
"It's special because I get to share it with all of you. If I kept it only for myself, it wouldn't be this fun, right?"
The children nodded eagerly.
"Kak Siti's right," said Aina. "Everything is better when we share."
---
Later that afternoon, Safura walked by and saw the group sitting together, still talking about their rides. She smiled at the sight, then turned to Siti.
"You're handling them well," she said softly.
Siti grinned. "They're happy. That's all I wanted."
Safura studied her for a moment, then placed a hand on her shoulder. "Do you realize something, Siti? When you share like this, you're not just giving rides. You're giving them joy, memories, and love. That's something money can't buy."
Siti's chest warmed at the words. She looked at the children laughing together, and for the first time, she felt not just like their friend, but like an older sister they could depend on.
---
As the sun dipped lower, painting the sky orange, the children begged for another round of rides. Siti laughed but agreed to one last cycle around the compound with each of them.
This time, they sang together—simple nursery rhymes and silly songs. Their voices filled the air, blending with the soft hum of the electric motor. Even the workers at the orphanage paused to watch, their faces glowing with fondness at the sight.
By the time the final ride ended, everyone was exhausted but happy. The children sprawled on the grass, talking about who screamed the loudest or who looked the coolest during their turn.
Siti parked the bicycle carefully near the wall, then sat with them under the tree. She leaned back, looking at the sky. For the first time since her parents had left, she felt completely at peace.
---
That night, back in her quiet house, the silence didn't feel so heavy. Siti's mind replayed the laughter of the children, their bright smiles, their tiny hands gripping hers as they climbed onto the bike.
She realized that the bicycle wasn't just hers anymore. It belonged to all of them in spirit, because what made it special wasn't the electric motor or shiny paint—it was the joy it brought when shared.
As she drifted to sleep, she whispered softly, "This is my family now."
And in her dreams, she wasn't riding alone anymore. She was always surrounded by the voices of children, their laughter echoing like music in the wind.