Five years ago, Rayyan Aqeef knelt before me with shaking hands and whispered, “I’ll wait for you. No matter how long it takes.” And he did—lovingly, patiently, painfully. We grew closer, hearts tangled in quiet promises. He gave me warmth, safety… hope.

Then came a knock on the door.

“Assalamualaikum… saya datang untuk melamar anak tuan.” Ezra Zaydan. A stranger with steady eyes, a name laced in wealth and prestige. Smarter, sharper, and everything my parents had dreamed of.

Now I stand between two hearts: One that stayed, and one that arrived with everything I thought I wanted.

“Choose me,” Rayyan pleads, his voice soft but breaking. “Let me give you the life you deserve,” says Ezra, cool and certain.

So tell me— Is love owed to the one who waited, Or the one who came… right on time?