You don’t read this book for a happy ending or a hero’s mile, you read it to have a phantom slice your chest open, retrieve your still-thumping heart, and crush it before your watering eyes. You read it to see two perfectly fine people—and consequently yourself—fall apart. Then, you look at the blueprint, and try to fix yourself up and move on (to the next book).

To label my college experience as a bad one and store it away in my mental attic would do the thousands of tuition ringgit paid no justice; it was a less-than-satisfactory one, undoubtedly, but I walked away knowing more than when I first walked through its gates. And I suppose, any situation that you walk away from as a better version of yourself can’t be that bad after all.

Sonder comes in a fuzzy feeling, like being swaddled in the warmth of your blanket as the morning sunlight splits through layers of curtains, cut by the breeze. Often laced with gratitude, it reminds us we are all cogs in a bigger machine, pieces in a larger game.