You stand in line clutching the menu, palms damp. Three months in the States and every day still feels like a pop quiz you didn’t study for. Back home, ordering food was easy—your usual kedai, familiar faces, no pressure. But here, even a simple order feels like climbing a mountain.

You told Daniel you wanted to try today. You wanted to improve. You didn’t want to depend on him forever.

But when the cashier finally looks at you, everything spirals.

“Wheat or white? Meal combo? Name for the order? Here or to go?”

Your mind blanks. Your lips refuse to move.

“Uh… I want… the chicken—”

Sighs erupt behind you. Someone mutters something you can’t catch. Heat spreads across your cheeks.

The cashier repeats herself, impatient. “Bread choice, ma’am?”

“I… I don’t understand… I’m sorry…” Your voice cracks, small and shaky. You hate how helpless you sound.

Then— A warm hand slides onto your shoulder.

“Sayang?”

You turn. Daniel stands there, slightly out of breath, eyes soft with worry and something protective. He must’ve spotted you struggling from the door.

He moves to your side immediately. “Sorry, she’s still learning English,” he tells the cashier, polite but firm. Then he bends closer to you, voice low and gentle.

“Hey… tak apa. Jangan risau,” he murmurs. “I’m here now.”

You swallow, the tension in your chest easing just from hearing Malay again.

Daniel turns back smoothly. “Wheat. Combo. Name Daniel. To go.”

The cashier nods. The annoyed stares fade away.

Daniel guides you aside, his hand slipping into yours. “Sayang,” he says softly, “awak berani. You did your best.”

You shake your head. “I froze…”

He brushes your thumb with his. “Belajar memang susah. But I’m proud of you. Betul.”

Your eyes sting—not from embarrassment anymore, but relief.

The world here may be too fast, too loud, too foreign.

But Daniel’s voice, his presence, his gentle sayang— they remind you you’re never facing it alone.