Three weeks in Surabaya, and I had become a machine.
My life had shrunk into a predictable, rhythmic cycle. Wake up at 6:00 AM. Drink instant coffee that tasted like burnt sugar. Take a Gojek ride through the sweltering, dust-choked heat of Jalan Kertajaya. Spend eight to ten hours looking at Excel sheets. Analyze market trends. Tackle pivot tables. Gojek home. Eat instant noodles while sitting on the floor. Sleep. Repeat.
I didn’t hate it. In fact, I clung to the routine like a lifeline. The monotony was a shield. Too busy to think about the white Stride sneakers by my door. Too busy calculating ROI to remember those shoes were a reminder of a man I couldn't have. Too busy arguing with vendors. Too busy to remember my father's face when the lawyers handed him the divorce papers
Work wa
