A week had passed since Phuby had decided to start looking for land to build a real home—a home that would stand as a symbol of everything they'd built. With the shop running smoothly and the bakery team now functioning like a well-oiled machine, Phuby finally had time to focus on the next big step: a house not just to live in, but to thrive in.
They had just finished breakfast on the second floor of the shophouse, where the family used the space as their living room. Plates of nasi uduk, fried tempeh, and leftover croissants from the shop downstairs were pushed to the side as Phuby pulled out two thick folders—one navy, one cream.
"These are the house design proposals," Phuby said, placing the folders in the middle of the table. "One is from Pak Reza, the other from Mbak Citra. I gave both the same requirements—four bedrooms, a blend of Indonesian and Japanese elements, and enough room for future expansion."
Mrs. Wulan raised an eyebrow, "Already that far ahead, huh?"
Phuby chuckled. "Just trying to be prepared."
He handed the navy folder to his mom. "This one is from Pak Reza. It's solid, functional, and safe. Four bedrooms, a reading room, small central garden."
She flipped through it with Om Luky looking over her shoulder. "Hmm, practical… but it's a bit stiff."
Hana, quietly curious, picked up the cream-colored folder.
Inside, elegant sketches revealed a fluid, earthy design that brought together natural light, indoor gardens, and Japanese-inspired architecture. A dedicated tatami room, shoji doors, and a small engawa opened into a backyard with a miniature tea garden.
Hana's eyes brightened. "This… this is amazing."
"I asked her to include Japanese cultural elements," Phuby said, smiling softly. "Figured it might help you feel more at home."
"It's beautiful. It reminds me of the house we used to visit in Shizuoka," she whispered.
Om Luky grinned, "Feels like I'm looking at a vacation home in Kyoto."
Even Mrs. Wulan nodded. "Feels more alive."
A few hours later, Mbak Citra visited the shop, joining them in the café corner of Palm Sari. She wore a white blouse, a canvas bag over her shoulder, and a set of rolled-up prints under her arm.
"Congratulations," she said cheerfully. "I had a feeling you'd pick mine."
"Everyone loved it," Phuby replied. "Especially the Japanese room."
"I thought it might suit your lifestyle," she smiled at Hana. "Alright, let's talk real things now. Budget and timeline."
She unrolled a new sheet across the table and brought out her tablet.
"The expected total for construction, including labor, mid-to-high-grade materials, and design execution, will fall around Rp 3.5 billion. This includes the following:
Design and architectural supervision: Rp 250 million
Structural and civil work: Rp 1.5 billion
Interior and finishing (woodwork, Japanese features, kitchen, flooring): Rp 1 billion
Landscaping and outdoor work: Rp 400 million
Contingency: Rp 350 million
If you want to speed things up or add smart-home features, that could add around Rp 500 million more. But that's optional."
Phuby nodded, mentally calculating. "So with a margin, let's say Rp 4 billion?"
"Correct," she confirmed. "We can begin next month if you're ready. Duration: about six to seven months for completion, assuming clear weather and smooth delivery of materials."
"And if I pay upfront, does that help?"
Citra gave a small laugh. "It would certainly make my life easier."
Phuby grinned but didn't elaborate. In truth, he wouldn't need a loan or phased payments. He had the system on his side, and he knew exactly how to prepare for the purchase—with cashback doubling every step of the way.
As they wrapped up, Hana gently touched one of the sketches. "This house feels like a dream I didn't know I had."
"It's our dream now," Phuby whispered.
That night, on the rooftop under the stars, Phuby looked out toward the general direction of the land he had bought. It was near enough to the shop to keep things convenient, but far enough to feel separate from work. Private. Peaceful. Personal.
And soon, that blank piece of land would hold the life they'd always imagined.
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