Waiting For Delivery

PROLOGUE

October 18, NAIA Terminal 1, Manila

The lights inside the terminal flickered faintly above, casting long shadows on the tiled floor as I clutched my passport and boarding pass like a lifeline. My heart wouldn’t stop racing. It was my first international flight, and every noise, every overhead announcement, made my pulse skip a beat. The hum of languages I barely understood, the rolling of luggage wheels across the floor, the final goodbyes—it all felt bigger than me.

“I can’t believe we’re really doing this,” said Janine, one of the girls I’d only met during our pre-departure briefing days ago. She sat beside me, cross-legged, sipping instant coffee with trembling hands.

“Me neither,” I admitted, trying to keep my voice steady. “I thought I’d back out a hundred times by now.”

“But here we are,” another chimed in—Mark, who had the most confident smile among us but confessed he was just as nervous during check-in. “Off to Thailand. New country, new job, new life.”

We all laughed, but it was nervous laughter. Shared fear wrapped in excitement. We were strangers barely a week ago, but now it felt like we were clinging to each other as lifeboats.

We were set to work in the same hotel in Phuket, under the same company. It sounded simple on paper, but the weight of moving to another country made it feel monumental. I kept checking my phone for the time, even though the gate display was right in front of us. 7:25 PM. We were almost boarding.

As the plane finally took off that night, I looked out the window, watching the lights of Manila flicker and vanish beneath a curtain of clouds. There was no turning back now. I closed my eyes and whispered a quiet prayer—half in fear, half in hope.

October 19, Don Mueang International Airport (DMK), Bangkok

Thailand greeted us with heat and fluorescent lights. We moved like a sleepy pack through immigration, dragging our luggage with stiff arms. I was exhausted but wired, the kind of tired that comes with too many emotions packed into one day.

The airport smelled different—spices, humidity, something floral in the air. The signs were in Thai first, English second. We followed them like breadcrumbs until we finally stepped out into the open night.

“Now we just need to get to the bus terminal,” said one of the coordinators who had been helping us navigate. “It’s going to be a long ride to Phuket.”

Long was an understatement.

We made our way to the Bus Terminal, bleary-eyed but still running on adrenaline. The terminal was alive despite the hour—vendors selling snacks, people sprawled on benches, neon signs buzzing overhead. It felt like the night itself was wide awake.

We boarded the bus, and within minutes of pulling out of the station, darkness folded over us. The highway stretched on endlessly, city lights fading into distant glimmers. I couldn’t sleep. My head leaned against the window as I watched unfamiliar towns drift past in a blur. I wondered if home would miss me, or if I’d miss it more.

October 20, Phuket Staff Dormitory

The bus finally rolled into Phuket after what felt like an eternity—twelve or thirteen hours of cramped legs, roadside stops, and shifting in half-sleep. We were dropped off near our staff dormitory, and someone from HR came to greet us.

By the time we arrived at our rooms, it was well past 11 PM. My bones ached. My brain buzzed. I dropped my bags on the floor and sat at the edge of the bed. It was small, simple, but it was mine.

This was it. Day one had come and gone. I was far from home, in a foreign land, about to start a new job with people I barely knew—but something about it all felt right. Like I was exactly where I needed to be, even if I didn’t understand why yet.

I lay back, stared at the ceiling, and let the silence of this unfamiliar room settle over me. Tomorrow, everything begins.