He introduced me to his whole family members and they were very welcoming. For someone who had grown up guarded, hesitant to trust too easily, it meant everything to be accepted so warmly. His aunties joked with me like we'd known each other for years. His younger cousins clung to me during our first visit, calling me sis. And his grandmother held my hand for a long time, her eyes kind, her voice saying quietly, "Thank you for loving him the way he needs."
Zeon made sure I didn't feel like just a guest in their lives—I felt like part of their family. And that sense of belonging, of being woven into the thread of someone else's life, made our love feel even more permanent.
But he didn't stop there. He also made sure every month he saved at least R5000, no matter how tight things were. That money wasn't just for rent or daily expenses—it was for us. For emergencies. For my education. For his mother's needs. It was for our future.
He made sure I didn't need anything—if I casually mentioned needing books, a bus fare, a warm jacket—he found a way. He wasn't rich. But he was intentional. And when love is intentional, it shows up in powerful ways.
He did the same for his mother. Sent money monthly. Checked up on her often. Sometimes I'd wake up at night to find him sitting on the couch with her on the phone, his tone soft, his voice filled with care. That's when I truly understood why he was the man he was. Raised by strength, refined by hardship, softened by love.
We built a rhythm together. I would cook on weekdays, and he'd take over the kitchen on weekends. I'd do the budgeting; he'd run the errands. He'd remind me to drink water during long study sessions, and I'd massage his shoulders when he came back exhausted from work.
Sometimes, we fought. About small things—like leaving lights on, forgetting to lock the door, or misplacing keys. But we always found our way back to laughter. We never went to bed angry. Even if it meant staying up until 2AM, we talked things out.
One Saturday morning, while we were hanging laundry in the backyard, he turned to me suddenly.
"You know what I want more than anything?" he asked.
I looked up, smiling. "What?"
"For us to keep choosing each other. No matter how hard life gets."
My heart swelled.
"I already do," I whispered.
That afternoon, we started writing our shared goals on a whiteboard we bought from a secondhand store. It sat in the corner of our small living room.
GOALS FOR 2026:
Finish Elara's first year strong
Replace Zeon's phone
Save R10,000 emergency fund
Take a weekend trip to the beach
Keep choosing love
It wasn't about perfection. It was about effort. It was about dreaming together and waking up every day with a reason to keep going.
By the end of the year, we didn't just have a house—we had a home. One filled with growth, care, and commitment.
We were building something real.
Together.