The next morning, math class resumed as usual.
The teacher wrote a problem on the board, her movements deliberate, each stroke precise. Then she scanned the room with calm, measured eyes, as if weighing each student's readiness.
"Rina," she said, voice firm but patient. "What's the answer?"
Rina frowned, pretending confusion. "Uh… I… I don't really understand, Ma'am," she muttered, staring at the numbers as though they were written in a foreign tongue.
Then her eyes shifted, mischief glinting.
"Oh! Ma'am—I know who can answer this."
"Who?" the teacher asked, curiosity piqued.
"Ruqayyah," Rina said sweetly, almost syrupy.
The teacher nodded. "Very well. Ruqayyah, please."
All eyes turned to Aisha.
She exhaled softly, a quiet sigh balancing patience and irritation. She knew Rina's game—trying to expose her as pretending to be clever without truly understanding.
Focus mattered more than pride.
Fortunately, the problem was Level 1 intermediate—the exact type she had practiced with Nisa and Bela the night before. The numbers aligned in her mind like familiar stars.
Her hand moved smoothly, each step flowing naturally, as if the solution had been waiting for her all along.
Rina's jaw dropped. "What—!?" she whispered, disbelief etched in every line of her face.
Aisha returned to her seat, a faint, self-satisfied smile tugging at her lips. She leaned toward Bela. "Studying together wasn't a waste after all."
Bela smiled back, a quiet acknowledgment. In the stillness of preparation and effort, small victories tasted unexpectedly sweet.
During break, Aisha headed to the canteen.
The ground was damp from last night's rain, mist curling along the edges of the courtyard. The air carried a sharp scent of wet earth and jasmine, mingling with the faint aroma of frying bread from the kitchen.
After only a few steps—
"Aaah—!"
She slipped, falling hard. Her skirt smeared with mud; her hijab hung crooked, half sliding from her head. She groaned, a sound more childlike than she would admit.
"Heeee…!" she inhaled sharply, pushing herself upright.
"Alright," she muttered, brushing herself off. "It's just a fall. Patience."
Inside the canteen, the line stretched long and noisy. Students shoved and muttered complaints. A tray clattered near her foot, narrowly missing her sandal.
Aisha raised her hands in surrender, took a deep breath, and forced a polite smile at the girl who had bumped into her.
The day dragged on, petty annoyances piling one atop another, each testing her patience.
By nightfall, she lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling.
"I want to run to the sea," she whispered, voice barely audible. "Let the waves carry me far… far, very far."
Tears slipped unbidden, drop by drop, as though exhaustion had released a floodgate within her.
Suddenly, she sat up, sobs breaking free. Hair fell loose, framing the face of a sixteen-year-old utterly worn down by routine, expectation, and small daily humiliations.
"I want to go home!" she cried into her pillow. "I'm tired. I'm not happy here!"
Then she froze.
Her expression went blank.
"Why am I crying?" she murmured. "Aisha bint al-Fadl is strong. Brave. Not weak like this."
She wiped her tears, exhaled, and let sleep reclaim her.
The third day—the final day—dawned crisp and bright.
As Aisha stepped out of class, arms full of books, she nearly collided with someone.
Raiz.
He had been talking to a friend, eyes distracted. They both stepped back at the same time. They stared, tense and awkward, until he finally spoke.
"Sorry," he said quickly. "I almost—hugged you."
Aisha raised an eyebrow. She was about to nod when he added, grinning, "But if you want, I could do it properly."
Her eyes narrowed. She raised a hand. "Want to get slapped?!"
Raiz laughed, stepping back, still wearing that maddening smile.
Aisha walked off, exhaling sharply.
"The third day is insane," she muttered. "And Raiz… he's got some nerve."
[DING! Congratulations, Host. You've gained +40 Affinity with Raiz.]
Aisha froze. "Didn't I just yell at him?"
"Perhaps it's your impression," the system replied lightly. "You looked very cool."
Aisha frowned. "Do you have feelings? You sound human."
"Adaptation," the system chuckled. "The longer I stay with you, the more I resemble you."
"Ohhh…" Aisha nodded slowly. "So you're saying I'm like that?"
"[Hehe…]" The voice vanished.
She smiled faintly. "This is kind of fun. Like having a friend in my head."
That night passed quietly, the air still with the scent of jasmine drifting through her open window.
The next morning, Aisha woke to—
[Congratulations, Host! Your reward has been delivered.]
Her eyes widened. She snatched her notebook and pencil. The first question she read clicked instantly in her mind.
Formulas, logic, the flow of steps—all aligned effortlessly. Her hand moved confidently, without hesitation.
"…Wow," she whispered. Deep down, she knew every second of patience, every slip, every struggle had been worth it.
"If this keeps up," she said dramatically, "I can go home. Maybe even conquer the world."
Bela, getting ready nearby, looked at her flatly. "Dream big, Aisha. Just… dream big."
Aisha laughed softly, tension dissolving, shoulders lighter than they had been in days.
For the first time since arriving at the pesantren, chaos and routine felt like challenges she could meet head-on—and perhaps even enjoy.
That day, the lessons were no longer just numbers on a board. They were patience, resilience, and understanding that small victories—the slip averted, the formula solved, the smile held despite irritation—could feel monumental.
She packed her books with a newfound lightness, the weight of doubt replaced by quiet confidence. Outside, the sun filtered through the trees, the scent of jasmine lingering, as if the city itself encouraged her forward.
It was not the sea, not her home—but for the first time, it felt enough. It felt like growth.
Even in the confines of the pesantren, amidst early mornings, mud-slicked courtyards, and insistent classmates, Aisha realized that she was capable of more than she had ever imagined. She could endure, she could adapt, and perhaps—just perhaps—she could enjoy the journey.
And in that realization, the chaos of the last three days seemed not a burden but a proving ground. The world, vast and challenging, waited outside the walls. And she was ready.