A LITTLE CONTROL AND MORE FREEDOM

Mastura’s air conditioning whirred ever onwards, as ceaselessly as her anxiety; her foot tapped in time with its monotonous drone; her eyes locked on the screen, the deadline circling overhead like a black cloud. A mail, the missing element of a puzzle, was delayed by an inexplicable technicality.

Mastura!’ A voice cut through the digital din. ‘Let’s go eat lunch; you’ve been staring at that screen for hours.’

Anya, her friend and colleague, was standing there next to her, smiling, with a plate of char kway teow in hand. Mastura sighed, looking at her watch. Lunchtime already? She felt like she’d only just started work.

 
"I can’t," Mastura said, her fingers still fiddling with the settings. "Just one more thing."

Anya raised an eyebrow. "One more? You said that an hour ago. You’re going to burn yourself out, Mastura."

 
Mastura sighed. Her voice was tired. "It’s just... everything needs to be right now, you understand? If I don’t get this email, everything will be late. Then the project... "Stop it, Mastura. For real. You’re not Superwoman, you know. You can't control everything, and you don't have to." 

There was a firmness in Anya’s voice that surprised Mastura, and a clarity in her eyes that made her pause. Anya had always been the carefree, easy-going one, but Mastura had never really given much credence to her relaxed approach. It seemed like a weakness. 

‘I just want everything to go smoothly,’ Mastura said, her voice thready even by its own standards. ‘To be one step ahead, to be prepared for anything. It’s just... how things work.’

Anya chuckled, a light, almost teasing sound. "Mastura, you’re a genius. Your work is magnificent. But you’re a human, not a robot. And you’re missing it—all the little things—the sun on your face, the laughter of your coworkers, the pleasure of a good meal."
Mastura stared at Anya, something stirring within her—a flicker of a new perspective. 

‘You’re right,’ she said, a half-smile on her lips. ‘I’ve been so wound up in the circus I’ve created that I haven’t even noticed.’

They ate their lunch. Anya’s laughter was like a knife through concrete, and Mastura felt her shoulders unclench. Her mind began to move beyond deadlines and code. 

The rest of the week was a whirlwind of new things. Mastura walked around the park with her friend, enjoying the orchids in full bloom. She lepaked with her colleagues after work, bantering and gossiping with them—something she hadn’t done in ages. She just sits at the table, just being there, without having to plan ahead, analyse, and control her every move. 

The email still hadn’t come, and yet, Mastura wasn’t particularly anxious about it. She had learned a lesson. Life wasn’t about mitigating all risk but about accepting the chance and the uncertainty. 

Mastura was back in her cubicle on Friday evening, working late, and was calm. Deadline day loomed, but for the first time, she wasn’t terrified. She would get it done. And if it didn’t quite go according to plan, that would be okay too. 

As she finished her work, another little voice in her head said, "See? You are doing great. You can handle it." 

And for the first time, Mastura believed it. She could feel a peace she had never known before—not the quiet of a quiet room, but the quiet of a woman finally letting go, trusting the future and the unknown, and trusting herself.

Stepping out of the building, Mastura gazed up at the skyline lit by the fading glow of the setting sun. The city was not so much a concrete and steel jungle to her any more. It was a canvas where anything was possible.

She smiled, for this was merely the start—another segment of her narrative, one with a tad less control and a lot more freedom.