A Long-Distance Love, Written by Allah

Every great story begins with something small—an encounter, a message, or even a shared screen. Ours began quietly too, not with fireworks, but with formulas and Zoom meetings. It was 2021, and I was enrolled in a Differential Equations class at Universitas Sriwijaya. Everything was held online due to the pandemic, and that’s when I first saw his name pop up—Khairu Agus Wijaya, a calm and focused student from Merauke, Papua, who was joining through the Merdeka Student Exchange Program (PMM).

We weren’t the only ones with cameras on, and there were no breakout rooms, but there were small-group discussions that consisted of four people. But somehow, amidst the grid of faces and silence between lectures, we began to notice each other. Our first interaction wasn’t even in Indonesian—it was in Mandarin, a language we both happened to be learning. That small spark led us to chat more through the class WhatsApp group. We began exchanging ideas about assignments, encouraging each other before quizzes, and celebrating little academic wins. It didn’t take long for our conversations to drift beyond math. He shared stories about Merauke—his life, his community, and his dreams. And I shared mine. 

Little by little, something genuine and unexpected began to form. Our friendship was rooted in ambition, mutual respect, and curiosity—not just about math, but about each other. I learned of his dreams, his hometown, the beauty and challenges of life in Merauke. And I think, without even realizing it, that was when our story truly began.

The semester ended, and with it, the PMM program. But fate wasn’t done with us yet.

In the following semester, we both joined the Kampus Mengajar program. I was posted to a rural school in West Sulawesi, while he was assigned back in his hometown, Merauke. Despite being on different islands, our shared mission—teaching and empowering children in remote areas—kept us connected. Our conversations turned from math equations to lesson plans, teaching strategies, and our growing dreams of improving education in Indonesia.

Our chats were no longer daily, but they were meaningful. Sometimes we’d send long voice notes about our struggles with classroom resources or funny stories about our students. Other times, it was just a simple “How was your day?” But every message made the distance feel smaller.

After Kampus Mengajar, life swept us into new directions. I returned to Palembang, and he accepted a job in Myanmar. We didn’t know it at the time, but our bond had quietly matured. What started as classmates became friends, then confidants, and eventually, something neither of us dared to name… yet.

Then came June 6, 2024—a date forever etched in my heart.

After years apart, Khairu came to Palembang. That day was our very first in-person meeting since our PMM days, but it didn’t feel like a first meeting at all. It felt like picking up a conversation that had only just paused. He brought with him not only stories from his life abroad, but something much deeper: a sincere intention. That day, he looked me in the eyes and told me his purpose—he wanted to marry me.

I was speechless.

I wasn’t surprised—some part of me always hoped for this—but hearing it aloud, with such certainty and respect, moved me beyond words. He didn't come with grand gestures or rehearsed speeches. He came with clarity, honesty, and the kind of courage only real men have—the courage to commit.

Not long after, he had to return to Myanmar for work. But something had shifted. We were no longer just dreaming—we were planning. We began our ta’aruf journey, exchanging CVs, life goals, and questions big and small. What kind of life did we want? How would we raise children? Where would we live? How could we continue giving back to our communities, even from afar?

And as the months passed, our vision grew. We began talking about building a school together one day—an international school in Merauke, rooted in local values and global standards. We dreamed not only as a couple but as future partners in service to others.

Then came Eid al-Fitr 2025.

This time, Khairu returned not just to see me, but to meet my mother and family. I remember watching from a distance as he spoke with my mother. There was no nervousness in his voice—only warmth and sincerity. He spoke not of fairy tales, but of building a life together, brick by brick, with love, patience, and faith.

That day, he gave me a gold ring. A symbol. A promise. A beginning.

Now, as we prepare for our wedding next year, I often think back to where it all began. A math class. A study group. An ambitious girl from Palembang and a quiet dreamer from Merauke. Who would have thought?

Our journey hasn't been easy. We've lived on different islands, faced uncertainty, balanced dreams with duty, and learned the art of waiting. But through it all, we’ve chosen each other—again and again.

And that, I believe, is what true love is.

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To Khairu Agus Wijaya,
For choosing me not just once, but every single day—even across oceans and years.
For your faith in Allah, in our future, and in what we’re building together.
For reminding me that sometimes, the most beautiful love stories begin not with a spark, but with a purpose.

With love,
Nur Zahwa
🕊️

📖 Read more pieces of our story and reflections here: https://nurzahwabintimusmulyadi.blogspot.com

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