Snow Arrival
Chapter 11 – Snow Arrival
The first thing Belle noticed when she stepped out of New Chitose Airport was the silence.
Not literal silence.
There were still announcements, rolling suitcases, people shuffling through arrivals.
But the air itself felt muted.
Cold that didn’t bite like Singapore air-conditioning.
Cold that sat on your skin like it belonged there.
Outside the glass doors, the world looked… softened.
Snow in uneven patches on the pavement.
Frost on the edges of railings.
Trees stripped down to their skeletons.
A colour palette Belle couldn’t find back home–white, grey, pale blue, the occasional warm spill of shop lights.
Crystal squealed the moment she saw her first real snow pile.
“OH MY GOD.”
Ivan, lugging two carry-ons like it was a military operation, didn’t even blink. “It’s just frozen water.”
Crystal spun around, pointing at him like a prosecutor. “You are the reason romance dies.”
Ivan walked past her. “Romance doesn’t pay for luggage fees.”
Crystal gasped. “I will throw you into the snow.”
Aleem moved behind them with the calm of someone who had already accepted that chaos was part of this trip’s itinerary.
He had a dark parka zipped up, scarf neatly arranged, hair tidy.
Clean-cut.
No beard.
Everything about him looked composed–as if winter was another environment he simply adapted to.
Belle stood still for a second, breathing.
Her lungs filled more easily here.
It was strange.
As if the cold air had gone straight to her brain and told it to stop spiralling.
Reset, she thought.
Not healed.
But reset.
Crystal grabbed Belle’s arm immediately. “Okay, Belle. We are in Japan. The heartbreak cannot find us here. It has no visa.”
Belle blinked.
A laugh tried to form.
It didn’t.
But her mouth softened.
Ivan muttered, “Heartbreak is internal. It doesn’t need immigration.”
Crystal stared at him. “Why you must always ruin?”
Ivan shrugged. “I’m realistic.”
Aleem’s voice cut in gently, like a small hand lowering the volume. “We can be both. Realistic and… hopeful.”
Crystal pointed at Aleem triumphantly. “See! He gets it. He’s the one with faith.”
Ivan rolled his eyes. “Don’t weaponise his faith for your travel aesthetics.”
Crystal hissed, “Not weaponise. Celebrate.”
Belle watched them.
ABIX.
Still ABIX.
The familiarity steadied her.
Then Crystal tugged her again. “Come. We go train. I want to see snow until my eyes burn.”
Ivan sighed. “They will burn. That’s what cold wind does.”
Crystal ignored him.
Belle followed.
One small step.
Then another.
The train into Sapporo felt like sliding into a different world.
Outside the window, snow covered the fields like a blank page.
Villages passed in quiet clusters–low roofs, thin smoke, cars moving slowly.
The sky was pale.
Not grey like rain.
Just… washed.
Belle sat by the window with her forehead near the glass.
Crystal had taken the aisle seat and was already scrolling TikTok for “Hokkaido winter outfit inspo.”
Ivan sat opposite them, headphones in, probably reviewing the itinerary like it was a project plan.
Aleem sat beside Ivan, looking out the window quietly.
His hands were folded loosely.
Not fidgeting.
Not restless.
Just… present.
Belle watched the reflection of his profile on the glass.
Something about the way he sat–contained, steady–made the inside of her chest feel less noisy.
In Singapore, her thoughts had been loud.
Here, they felt like they had to speak softer.
Belle swallowed.
She hadn’t asked Aleem why he suggested Hokkaido first.
She hadn’t asked because she didn’t want him to think she was reading into it.
Because reading into things was dangerous.
Because her heart had already started doing it.
Signals.
She shifted slightly, trying to focus on the snow.
Crystal suddenly leaned across Belle and shoved her phone toward her face.
“BELLE. LOOK.”
Belle blinked. “What?”
Crystal’s screen showed a girl in a beige coat twirling in snow like she was in a drama.
Crystal whispered dramatically, “This will be me.”
Ivan without looking up: “That will be you slipping and injuring your tailbone.”
Crystal glared. “Shut up.”
Aleem’s lips twitched faintly.
Belle watched the small expression.
It warmed her.
It shouldn’t have.
But it did.
She looked away quickly.
Proper.
She needed to be proper too.
At least with her own feelings.
Sapporo Station was a burst of light and movement.
Warm air hit Belle’s face as they stepped inside–heated, busy, alive.
The city felt different from Singapore.
Less humid.
Less sharp.
Even the crowds moved with a certain softness, bundled in coats, cheeks pink, voices low.
Crystal immediately declared, “Okay, I’m starving.”
Ivan checked his phone. “We can eat after we check in.”
Crystal pouted. “You always say ‘after.’ Life is now.”
Ivan deadpanned, “And hunger is temporary.”
Crystal hissed. “I hate you.”
Ivan nodded. “I know.”
Belle pulled her scarf tighter around her neck.
The cold outside pressed against the station’s warmth, a constant reminder of where they were.
Winter.
A season Belle didn’t know how to live in.
Aleem noticed her adjusting her scarf.
He didn’t touch it.
He didn’t fuss.
He simply asked, softly, “Too cold?”
Belle hesitated. “A bit.”
Aleem nodded. “We can walk slower. No rush.”
No rush.
The phrase settled in her chest.
It sounded like the entire trip.
Not a forced healing pilgrimage.
Just… time.
They took the subway to their hotel.
Ivan navigated with calm efficiency.
Crystal made loud comments about every vending machine.
Belle followed.
And when they finally reached the hotel lobby, Belle stood still for a moment.
The scent of clean carpet.
Warm lighting.
A quiet hum.
She felt a strange sensation in her chest.
Not sadness.
Not relief.
A pause.
As if her life had stopped running for once.
They dumped their luggage in the rooms.
The hotel was modest but comfortable–nothing luxurious, but warm, clean, close to the station.
Crystal insisted on room assignments like she was arranging a wedding seating plan.
“Okay. Girls together. Boys together. Because we are proper.”
Ivan stared. “No one suggested otherwise.”
Crystal sniffed. “I’m just setting standards.”
Belle unpacked slowly.
Her hands moved through familiar items–clothes, toiletries, chargers.
It felt normal.
And because it felt normal, it felt like grief wasn’t allowed to dominate the room.
Belle stared at her suitcase.
She exhaled.
Then she heard Crystal outside the door.
“BELLE! COME! SNOW.”
Belle opened her door.
Crystal was bouncing in her winter boots like she had caffeine in her veins.
Ivan stood behind her, expression resigned.
Aleem stood near the elevator, already in his coat again, hands in his pockets.
Belle’s chest tightened.
He was always ready.
Not impatient.
Ready.
Crystal grabbed Belle’s arm. “We go outside. Proper snow. Like postcard.”
Belle’s heart beat fast.
Outside meant cold.
Outside meant unknown.
But she nodded.
Small steps.
The first snow Belle touched was not falling from the sky.
It was piled near the sidewalk, shoveled into a soft mound.
Crystal ran toward it like it was a childhood dream.
She plunged her gloved hands in and squealed.
“It’s REAL.”
Ivan stood a safe distance away. “Please don’t eat it.”
Crystal froze. “Why would I eat it?”
Ivan’s voice stayed flat. “Because you have no impulse control.”
Crystal glared. “I have plenty.”
Then she immediately scooped a handful of snow and lifted it toward her mouth.
Ivan’s eyes narrowed.
Crystal stopped, grinning. “Joke.”
Ivan sighed like he had been personally tortured by her existence.
Belle watched them.
A small smile formed.
She stepped closer to the mound.
The snow looked clean.
White.
Soft.
Belle reached out hesitantly with her bare fingers.
The cold shocked her.
Not painful.
Just… honest.
It seeped into her skin instantly.
Belle sucked in a breath.
Crystal squealed, “Belle! Touch! Touch!”
Belle already was.
She pressed her fingertips deeper.
Snow crumbled.
It felt like crushed ice.
Alive.
Her fingers went numb quickly.
She pulled them back, surprised.
Aleem’s voice came softly from behind. “Cold?”
Belle nodded, rubbing her fingers together. “Yeah.”
Aleem didn’t laugh.
He didn’t say “I told you.”
He simply reached into his pocket and held out a pack of disposable hand warmers.
“Take,” he said.
Belle blinked. “You brought this?”
Aleem nodded. “Just in case.”
Just in case.
The phrase was so Aleem.
Prepared.
Quietly thoughtful.
Belle’s chest tightened.
She took the hand warmers.
Their warmth slowly spread into her palm.
It felt like a small mercy.
Aleem looked away after handing it to her.
No lingering.
No expectation.
Proper.
Belle stared at the hand warmer.
Then at the snow.
Then, for a second, at Aleem’s profile.
Her heart did something strange.
A pull.
A quiet wanting.
She looked away quickly.
No.
Not here.
Not now.
They walked through the streets near Susukino, lights reflecting on wet pavement.
The cold air made Belle’s cheeks sting.
Her breath came out in faint clouds.
Crystal kept trying to take photos with random snow piles.
Ivan kept saying, “Please stop blocking the pavement.”
Aleem held the map for Crystal once when she insisted on checking “the best ramen place.”
He didn’t argue.
He just helped.
Belle watched.
He never made anyone feel stupid.
Even when they were.
Crystal ordered ramen like it was a religious ritual.
Ivan ordered something simple.
Belle ordered miso ramen because it sounded safe.
They ate.
The broth was hot enough to make Belle’s eyes water.
Not sadness.
Just heat.
Crystal slurped dramatically and declared, “This is healing.”
Ivan replied, “This is sodium.”
Crystal glared. “Sodium is healing.”
Belle smiled.
A real one.
Small.
But real.
Aleem’s gaze flicked to her smile and softened slightly.
Then he looked away.
Proper.
Always.
Back at the hotel, they split up.
Crystal went to the bathroom and started a skincare routine like she was performing on stage.
“Belle, your face is dry. Put moisturiser. Winter is evil.”
Belle nodded, rubbing cream into her cheeks.
Her skin felt tight.
Her mind felt… quieter.
When Crystal finally flopped onto the bed, sighing dramatically, Belle stepped out into the hallway to get water.
The corridor was quiet.
Carpet muffled footsteps.
The air was warm.
Belle filled two paper cups from the dispenser.
When she turned, she saw Aleem at the end of the corridor.
He was walking slowly, holding a small toiletry bag.
Not heading to the vending machine.
Not going to Ivan’s room.
He paused when he saw her.
“Oh,” he said softly. “You okay?”
Belle nodded. “Yeah. I’m just… getting water.”
Aleem nodded. “Okay.”
A pause.
Belle hesitated.
Something about the quiet corridor made her feel braver.
Or maybe the snow had made her softer.
“Are you going somewhere?” she asked.
Aleem glanced down at his bag. “Prayer room.”
Belle blinked.
Her brain processed slowly.
Prayer room.
Of course.
He had mentioned before, once, that he prayed five times a day.
But in Singapore, she had rarely seen it.
Not because he hid.
Because life moved.
Schedules.
Work.
Group hangouts.
He would slip away quietly, return quietly.
Belle had been too consumed to notice.
Here, in this hotel corridor, with winter outside, the idea of him going to pray felt… vivid.
Belle swallowed. “Oh.”
Aleem’s voice stayed gentle. “You want anything? Like… if you need anything, text.”
Belle shook her head quickly. “No. I’m okay.”
Aleem nodded once. “Okay.”
He took a step, then paused.
He didn’t want to make it weird.
She could feel it.
But he still asked, proper as always.
“Is it okay if I go now?”
The question startled her.
Permission.
Even for leaving.
Belle’s throat tightened.
“Yes,” she whispered. “Of course.”
Aleem nodded. “Okay. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight,” Belle replied.
He walked away.
Belle watched him disappear around the corner.
Her chest felt strange.
Not jealousy.
Not possessiveness.
Something like… respect.
Something like… calm.
As if there was a structure inside him that didn’t depend on anyone else to hold.
Belle returned to her room with the water.
Crystal took one cup and began talking again.
But Belle’s mind stayed on the corridor.
On Aleem’s quiet request for permission.
On the idea of him going to pray.
And, unexpectedly, on the feeling that came with it.
Not exclusion.
Not distance.
A softness.
Later, when Crystal finally fell asleep–phone on her chest, mouth slightly open–Belle lay in the dark and stared at the ceiling.
Outside, winter pressed against the window.
The heater hummed softly.
Belle’s phone buzzed.
Her mother.
How’s Japan? Cold?
Belle smiled faintly.
She typed:
Cold. Snow is real.
Her mother replied quickly:
Okay. Don’t fall sick. Eat properly.
Okay.
Belle placed her phone down.
She closed her eyes.
But sleep didn’t come immediately.
Her mind kept returning to Aleem.
Not in a romantic way.
Not yet.
In a way that felt… new.
She remembered how, earlier, when they were outside, she had watched him stand still for a moment.
Not because he was tired.
Because he had looked up at the sky like he was taking something in.
The cold.
The quiet.
The world.
And now he had gone to pray.
Belle didn’t know much about Islam.
She knew the basics.
She knew enough to be respectful.
But she realised, in that moment, that she had never truly watched someone’s faith up close.
Not as a debate.
Not as a rulebook.
As a rhythm.
As a softness.
As something that held them steady.
Belle inhaled.
Her chest felt… calmer.
Not because her heartbreak was gone.
Because the world here was quiet enough for her to breathe.
Snow arrival.
A reset.
A different air.
A different pace.
And somewhere down the corridor, Aleem was doing something that didn’t require anyone’s applause.
He was just… being.
Proper.
Steady.
Belle stared at the ceiling until her eyelids finally grew heavy.
When she drifted toward sleep, the last thought that passed through her mind wasn’t Jason.
It was winter.
And a quiet sense that, here, in this strange softened world, she might learn how to breathe again.