But what I do remember—clearly, without a shadow of a doubt—is that it was the day you first stepped into my life.

Since then, everything’s been tinted in a shade I can't describe—a little brighter, a little more vibrant, a little more real. You may not know this, but you changed the direction of my story just by showing up. And maybe that’s what love is: not the big bang itself, but how the stars were rearranged when it happened.

So no, I can’t say that day was life-changing in the moment. But now? Looking back?

It was the beginning of everything.

I don't know the exact moment it changed—when it shifted from a spark of interest to something that made my chest feel too small. I just know that now, the absence of you weighs more than I can carry some days. When our messages feel too short, or the silence stays a little longer than usual, something twists in me. And I wonder—what if I'm not the one you wanted after all?

God, I loved you then. I love you still.

But somewhere along the way, I started second-guessing myself. Was I rushing this? Was I falling too fast, too hard, too blindly? Was what I felt even real, or was I just a hopeless romantic, drunk on a dream? I didn't know where the lines became hazy between yearning and reality. Between what we were, and what I desperately wanted us to be.

And still—still—I held on.

Because heaven help the desperate romantic standing here, heart in hand, waiting for you to make everything feel steady again. I never needed certainty. I just needed you.

But I did.

Because in that moment, the fear of never speaking—of keeping it all locked away, sealed behind—felt heavier than the fear of you turning away. I told myself: fuck it. If you’d say yes, then you’d say yes. If not—if the world would burn around me and you’d walk away with my confession still echoing—I'd survive. Or at least, I'd try.

But not knowing? Not trying? That would've haunted me far longer than rejection ever could. It's better for me to die of rejection than live in between.

So I leapt.

And I'm so glad I did. Because things could've been so different—colder, quieter, emptier—if I'd chosen silence instead.

I chose you over my fear. I chose honesty over safety. I chose to risk everything for a moment that might never come again.

And whatever happens next, I'll never regret that.

Because loving you—even just in the asking—was the greatest thing I’ve ever done.

Every word he speaks, every way he listens, every time he simply exists—it’s as if God took a little more time creating him, shaping him with care, kindness, and grace.

To me, he is proof that beauty isn’t always loud. Sometimes, it breathes softly. Sometimes, it's him always supporting me. Sometimes, it’s in the reels he sends me. And sometimes it's in the way he'd always get mad if I started smoking again (terima kasih karena udah bantu aku bersih 3 Minggu. That's the most I've ever done). Kak Abby doesn't make me feel stupid or dumb despite me being younger than him. He's just there, and I'm that one kid who'll always stare at him and look at him like he's the coolest person I've ever seen.

Loving him has been like standing under a sky full of stars and realizing one of them is looking back at you.

He is one of the greatest things God has ever created—not because he tries to be, but because he simply is. He exists with such sincerity that it makes everything else in the world feel a little less overwhelming.

And I thank the universe, every single day, for giving me the honor of knowing him, loving him, and calling him mine.