TRUSTING THE FUTURE AND THE UNKNOWN

The air conditioner in Mastura's office continued to hum, relentless like her worries; her foot tapping away time with a boring drone; her eyes locked on the screen, the deadline spinning above her head like a dark cloud. An email, the missing puzzle piece, had been delayed by unexplained technical issues.

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

Anya, her friend and coworker, stood beside her, smiling, with a plate of char kway teow in hand. Mastura groaned, glancing at her watch. Lunchtime already? She felt like she had just started working. 

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

Anya raised an eyebrow. "Another one? You said that an hour ago. You want to tire yourself out, Mastura?" 

Mastura sighed. Her voice sounded tired. But... everything needs to be done now, you understand? If I don't get this email, everything will be delayed. And then the project... Come on, Mastura. Really. You're not Superwoman, you know. You can't control everything, and you don't need to. 

There was a firmness in Anya's voice that startled Mastura and clarity in her eyes that made her fall silent. Anya was always cheerful and easygoing, but Mastura never truly trusted her laid-back approach. It seemed like a weakness. 

"I just want everything to go smoothly," Mastura said, her voice melancholic despite her usual poise. Ready to step forward, willing to do anything. But... how does it all work out?

Anya let out a small laugh and a light sound, almost teasing. Mastura, you're a genius. Your work is amazing. But you're human, not a robot. And you miss it—all the little things—the sun on your face, the laughter of your coworkers, the taste of delicious food.

Mastura looked at Anya, something stirring inside her—a new perspective flickering.

You're right, she said, a half smile etched on her lips. I've been so caught up in the sarcasm I create that I didn't realise it. 

They had their lunch. Anya's laughter was like a knife cutting through concrete, and Mastura felt her shoulders relax. Her mind started to move beyond deadlines and codes. 

The rest of the week brought new things. Mastura walked around the garden with her friends, enjoying the blooming orchids. She joked with her coworkers after work, gossiping with them—something she hadn't done in a long time. She just sat at her desk, just being there, without needing to plan ahead, analyse, or control every move. 

The email still hasn't arrived, but Mastura isn't too worried about it. She has learnt a lesson. Life isn't about eliminating all risks but about embracing opportunities and uncertainties. 

Mastura returned to her room on Friday evening, working late yet calm. The deadline was approaching, but for the first time, she wasn't afraid. She would get it done. And if it didn't go according to plan, that was okay too. 

As she finished her work, another small voice in her head said, See? You're great. You can do it. 

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

Stepping out of the building, Mastura gazed at the sky, illuminated by the fading sunlight. The city was no longer a concrete jungle for her. It was a canvas where anything was possible.

She smiled, because this was just the beginning—another segment in her narrative, with a little control and more freedom.