The sun had barely lifted above the rooftops when the first truck arrived, its heavy wheels rumbling over the newly paved driveway of the soon-to-be mansion. Phuby stood near the gate, holding a steaming mug of coffee in one hand and a clipboard in the other. His eyes scanned the delivery list—tiles, custom wood panels, insulation materials, imported kitchen fixtures, bathroom units, and the first batches of soundproofing foam.
Beside him, Hana stretched sleepily, still in her cozy hoodie and tied-up hair. She yawned quietly before resting her head against Phuby's shoulder. "This… is a lot," she murmured in English.
"It's our start," Phuby smiled, taking another sip. "This mansion won't build itself. Well, not the insides, at least."
The contractors had finished the foundation and structure weeks earlier. Now, with the mansion's skeleton standing strong, the real heartwork began—turning it into a home. A dream home.
The living room would be expansive, the kitchen modern and open, the dining area overlooking a wide patio. Upstairs, each bedroom was designed with care, especially theirs. But the focus today wasn't the bedrooms. It was the basement—Phuby's personal request. A place that would serve not only as his gaming room but also a casual gathering spot for his close-knit group.
As workers brought down soundproofing panels into the basement stairwell, Om Luky supervised the unloading of arcade machines, a brand-new billiards table, and a karaoke set with full surround speakers. Even a foosball table had made it onto the list. Phuby spared no expense.
At the back, the electric generator unit arrived, followed by gleaming solar panels and massive battery storage cases. A few days earlier, Phuby had finalized the water well and pump system too—complete with a powerful, industrial-grade water pump, an underground water reservoir, and an insulated tower tank on the rooftop.
It was all designed with one goal in mind: self-sufficiency. The mansion would not pay monthly electric or water bills. It would live and breathe on its own, untouched by the rising utility costs of Desa Lurah.
While the men worked outside, Hana wandered toward the edge of the property, walking slowly on the soil now cleared for landscaping. She turned and waved at Phuby. "Can I show you something?"
Phuby walked over, raising a brow. "What's up?"
Hana knelt and began sketching something with a stick in the dirt. "Here, near the back terrace… I was thinking… maybe a small Japanese-style rock garden? Like the ones my grandmother loved. With white gravel, stones, and a little bench. Just for peace and quiet."
Phuby crouched next to her, watching the lines take form. "A zen garden?"
She nodded. "But not too traditional. Maybe with a few Indonesian plants too. Something personal."
His heart warmed. "We'll make it real. I'll ask Mbak Citra to incorporate it."
She smiled gently. "Thank you."
By noon, the living room was already taking shape. Marble flooring was laid, household appliances brought in—refrigerators, washing machines, smart televisions, a cooking range, air purifiers, and high-efficiency AC units for each level. Phuby walked with the interior team, pointing out where he wanted the LED lighting installed and where the main control panel for solar backup should go.
The basement got special attention. Phuby personally inspected the acoustic foam layering the walls and ceiling. He even requested a small, hidden fridge be placed near the gaming corner. There were no windows—on purpose. The whole space was meant to be an escape from stress, soundproofed from both the outside world and the family space above.
In one corner of the basement, space was left open. "This is where the group can hang out," Phuby told Hana later. "Billiards here, foosball over there, karaoke in the back. No stress, just fun. When Mamad and the others drop by after work, this'll be their place too."
She ran a hand across the padded wall. "You thought about everything."
"Still thinking," he chuckled. "But I want it to be ours. Not just mine."
That evening, dinner was shared in the open-roof area of the third floor, under soft lantern lights temporarily strung for the construction days. Mrs. Wulan served a light supper, and Om Luky grilled satay at the edge.
As the sun dipped beyond the fields, Phuby looked at the semi-finished mansion and couldn't help but feel the silent thrum of his dream breathing through its walls. Every decision, every detail—they weren't just made for comfort. They were built on the foundation of memory, love, and a future he could believe in.
And sitting beside him, her hand wrapped around his, Hana smiled at the wind, the warmth, and the endless sky ahead.