Shan Rizwan’s debut single Waiting, released on September 26, 2025, feels like a quiet pause in motion. It’s slow, patient, and intentional — the kind of first step that says more through stillness than through volume. Known for his narrative timing and sense of atmosphere as a creator, Rizwan brings that same eye for detail into his music. Every part of this track feels placed with purpose: the quiet percussion, the open space, the way his voice hovers somewhere between intimacy and distance.

The song moves at its own pace. Built around soft percussion and floating synths, Waiting captures the tension of being caught in the middle — between what you want and what you’re willing to wait for. There’s no big drop, no sudden climax; instead, it stretches out like a deep breath you never quite finish exhaling. That patience becomes the point. The production leaves plenty of space, and Rizwan knows how to use it — letting moments linger instead of rushing toward resolution.

His voice matches that mood — conversational, half-held, like he’s thinking through the words as he sings them. There’s something really honest about that. It’s not polished to perfection, and that’s exactly what makes it work. You can hear the space between emotions, that push and pull between wanting closeness and keeping distance.

The lyrics stay simple. “Your true colors show when I'm around. No pressure, no rush.” It’s one of those lines that sounds casual until it hits you later. He doesn’t try to over-explain what he means. He just leaves the thought hanging there, and somehow that says everything. Even the repetition of “waiting” feels more like a quiet reminder than a hook — a way of accepting that waiting isn’t wasted time, it’s part of the process.

The music video follows the same mindset. Soft colors, long takes, nothing forced. It looks like a memory you’re trying not to let fade. There’s no performance in the traditional sense, just a kind of presence — calm, grounded, and intentional. You can tell he cares about how it feels more than how it looks.

What’s striking is how sure the whole thing feels. Rizwan isn’t chasing a sound or trying to fit into anyone’s box. Waiting feels like its own world — quiet, reflective, and self-aware. For a debut, that’s a statement in itself.

It ends without really ending. No resolution, no big closing moment. It just stays with you — like time passing slowly but meaning something. Waiting isn’t about what comes next; it’s about learning to sit still until it does.