Aiman flopped onto the worn-out sofa in the living room, staring at the ceiling fan spinning lazily above him. School holidays were supposed to be a time for rest, playing Final Fantasy IX on the PlayStation, and binge-watching shows like Dragon Ball Z without interruption. But this time, things were different.
His house in Johor Bahru now smelled like freshly baked cookies, thanks to his family’s small bakery, Sweet Aroma. The bakery had just opened last month and was now buzzing with activity, trying to meet orders for Hari Raya. Aiman, who was supposed to enjoy a long break after finishing his PMR exams, was roped into helping his parents.
“Do they think I’m a robot or something?” he grumbled, looking at his flour-covered hands, a reminder of the dough-mixing chore he had been stuck with earlier that morning.
Sara, his 18-year-old sister, appeared from the kitchen holding a glass of sirap bandung. “If you worked harder, maybe they wouldn’t think that. Right now, you’re like an NPC in Harvest Moon—just following orders without complaining.”
Aiman shot her a sour look. He missed how easy life had been before this holiday—waking up for school, hanging out with friends in the canteen, and playing football after class. Now, his routine was filled with mixing batter, packing cookies into jars, and delivering orders to customers’ houses.
In the corner of the kitchen, his dad’s old radio was playing My Heart Will Go On by Celine Dion, a song that had been everywhere since Titanic came out. Even though he’d heard it countless times, Aiman found himself humming along softly, trying to lift his mood.
Still, he couldn’t shake off a feeling of unease. Beyond the bakery work, there was something else looming over him—the PMR results that were due at the end of December. Every time he thought about the date, a wave of anxiety crept into his chest.
“What if my results are terrible?” he muttered under his breath, staring out the window.
His dad, who was seated at the dining table reading Utusan Malaysia, chimed in, “Don’t worry too much, Aiman. Just focus on what’s in front of you for now. We’ll face the results together when the time comes.”
Aiman nodded silently. He appreciated his dad’s reassurance, but the weight in his heart didn’t budge.
Later that night, before heading to bed, Aiman flipped through the latest issue of Gempak magazine, which featured his favorite comic, Walang Kadok. As he read, he couldn’t help but wonder how this school holiday would turn out. Would it get worse, or was there something fun waiting around the corner?
One thing was certain: this holiday was going to be unlike any he had experienced before.