Decision
Chapter 14 – Decision
The hardest part wasn’t deciding what he wanted.
Aleem already knew what he wanted.
The hardest part was deciding how to want it without breaking the rules that held his life together.
Winter didn’t make things easier.
It made them clearer.
Because everything in Hokkaido was stripped down.
No humidity.
No noise.
No distraction.
Just cold air and white ground and the honest question:
If you take a step forward, what exactly are you stepping into?
On the third day, Crystal demanded they go somewhere “more magical than my office life.”
Ivan’s eyes narrowed. “Your office life is already dramatic because you make it dramatic.”
Crystal ignored him.
So they took the train out.
Not far.
Just enough to see more snow.
A quieter stretch of town.
A small shrine area.
A park where the trees looked like they had been outlined in white.
Belle walked slower than the others, boots crunching.
Crystal took photos.
Ivan narrated logistics.
And Aleem… Aleem stayed in the middle.
Not attached.
Not distant.
Just present.
He kept watching Belle without staring.
He noticed the way she held her scarf up to her cheeks.
The way her eyes softened when she watched children throw snowballs.
The way her mouth relaxed when Crystal shouted something ridiculous.
Belle was still grieving.
But she was also… living.
And Aleem’s fear sharpened.
Because her living made her confession real.
Not a desperate grasp.
A conscious offering.
He couldn’t hide behind the idea that she was confused.
She wasn’t.
She was brave.
The least he could do was meet her bravery with honesty.
Later, while Crystal ran ahead to buy snacks and Ivan went to check train timing, Aleem found himself walking beside Belle.
The path was quiet.
Snowbanks lined the sides.
Their breath came out like soft clouds.
Belle didn’t speak.
Aleem didn’t force.
But the silence was different since the café.
Not comfortable.
Not awkward.
Tender.
Like there was a fragile glass between them now.
One wrong tap and it would crack.
Belle glanced at him.
Then looked away quickly.
Aleem’s chest tightened.
He knew that look.
It was the look of someone trying not to hope.
He slowed slightly.
“Belle,” he said softly.
Belle’s shoulders tensed.
She looked at him, cautious. “Yeah?”
Aleem inhaled.
His voice was steady.
But inside, his heart was not.
“I’m still thinking,” he said.
Belle’s eyes flickered.
She nodded quickly. “Okay.”
The word sounded like armour.
Aleem’s throat tightened.
“I didn’t forget,” he added quietly.
Belle’s lips parted.
Her eyes softened.
Then she looked down again.
“I know,” she whispered.
Aleem swallowed.
He wanted to say more.
He wanted to reassure.
But reassurance without clarity would be selfish.
It would feed her hope without giving her truth.
Proper.
So he held it.
That night, back in Sapporo, Aleem finally called Ustaz Hakim.
He did it in the corridor again.
Not because he was hiding.
Because he didn’t want Ivan to overhear something personal.
And because he needed the quiet.
The call connected.
“Assalamualaikum,” the ustaz’s voice came warm through the phone.
“Waalaikumsalam,” Aleem replied.
The ustaz’s tone softened. “Aleem? Long time. You okay?”
Aleem exhaled slowly. “I’m okay. I… need advice.”
“Tell me,” Ustaz Hakim said gently.
Aleem leaned against the wall, eyes closed.
He chose his words carefully.
He described Belle, but not in detail.
Not her vulnerabilities.
Not her tears.
Just the facts.
A Chinese Christian woman.
A close friend.
A confession.
His feelings.
His caution.
His fear of being opportunistic.
Ustaz Hakim listened without interrupting.
Then he asked, softly, “Do you want to marry her?”
The directness hit Aleem.
He swallowed.
“Yes,” he admitted.
Not immediately.
Not tomorrow.
But yes.
Ustaz Hakim hummed. “Then you have to take this seriously. Not like dating for fun.”
Aleem nodded, even though the ustaz couldn’t see. “I know.”
The ustaz continued, “In our deen, love is not just feeling. It’s responsibility. It’s intention.”
Aleem’s chest tightened.
“I’m scared,” he admitted quietly. “Because she’s healing. I don’t want to… blur lines.”
Ustaz Hakim’s voice softened. “That fear is good. It means you have adab. Many men don’t.”
Aleem swallowed.
The ustaz asked, “Is she asking you to rush?”
“No,” Aleem said quickly. “She accepted my request for time.”
“Good,” the ustaz said. “Then don’t rush. But don’t leave her in confusion too long either. Clarity is also mercy.”
Clarity is mercy.
Aleem’s throat tightened.
The ustaz continued, “You have to be honest with her about your reality. What marriage means. What interfaith means. What your family might feel. And if she wants to learn Islam, she must do it for Allah. Not for you.”
Aleem nodded, jaw tight. “Yes.”
The ustaz’s voice was calm. “You cannot control her sincerity. But you can control your approach. Be clear that you won’t marry her unless it is halal. And you will not pressure her. You will invite, gently, if she asks. And you will be patient.”
Invite.
Gently.
Patient.
Aleem exhaled.
This wasn’t a romantic script.
It was a road.
The ustaz asked, “What do you fear the most?”
Aleem’s voice came out small. “That she’ll say yes because she wants me. And then later she’ll regret. Or my parents will resist, and she’ll feel unwanted. Or… I’ll hurt her.”
Ustaz Hakim paused.
Then he said, quietly, “If you are honest from the start, she will not be tricked. If you keep it vague, then you are setting her up for pain.”
Aleem’s chest tightened.
The ustaz added, “And you must also be honest with yourself. If you already know you cannot marry without certain conditions, then do not pretend you can.”
Aleem swallowed.
He knew.
He knew.
The ustaz’s tone softened again. “Aleem, you are a good man. Don’t let fear make you disappear. Show up. Speak with gentleness. And make istikhara. Allah will open the path if it is good.”
Aleem’s eyes stung unexpectedly.
He blinked hard.
“Okay,” he whispered.
Ustaz Hakim chuckled softly. “Yes. Okay. Now go sleep. You can’t make big decisions with no sleep.”
Aleem let out a small exhale that might have been a laugh.
“I’ll try,” he said.
“Try,” the ustaz repeated warmly. “Assalamualaikum.”
“Waalaikumsalam,” Aleem replied.
The call ended.
Aleem stared at his phone for a moment.
Clarity is mercy.
Proper.
He couldn’t keep Belle suspended.
Not because he owed her romance.
Because he owed her respect.
He returned to the room.
Ivan looked up from his bed. “You called?”
Aleem nodded. “Yeah.”
Ivan’s expression stayed neutral, but his voice softened slightly. “And?”
Aleem sat down, exhaling. “He said… be clear. Don’t rush, but don’t leave her confused.”
Ivan nodded once. “Correct.”
Aleem stared at his hands.
He could feel his own heart beating.
“I think I know what to do,” he said quietly.
Ivan’s gaze stayed steady. “Then do it.”
Aleem looked up. “Do what?”
Ivan’s mouth twitched faintly–almost amusement. “Decide. And tell her. Properly.”
Properly.
Yes.
The decision didn’t come like fireworks.
It came like a sentence.
Clear.
Simple.
Heavy.
I will say yes to her–but I will say yes with honesty.
Not a yes that pretended interfaith wasn’t real.
Not a yes that promised a fantasy.
A yes that offered a road.
Slow.
Gentle.
Proper.
He would tell Belle he liked her.
He would tell her he wanted to explore this seriously.
And he would tell her that his faith was not negotiable.
Not as threat.
As truth.
He would tell her he would never pressure her to convert.
But he would also tell her that marriage, for him, had requirements.
If she wanted to learn, he would support.
If she didn’t, he would respect.
But he would not pretend.
Clarity is mercy.
Aleem exhaled.
Then he did something he rarely did.
He texted Belle.
Not a long message.
Not a confession by phone.
Just a request.
Can we talk tomorrow? Just the two of us. Somewhere quiet.
He stared at the screen.
His thumb hovered.
Then he sent.
The message delivered.
Aleem’s chest tightened.
This was the part he couldn’t control.
Her response.
He lay back on the bed.
Ivan turned off the light.
The room went dark.
Aleem’s phone buzzed.
Belle.
Okay. Where?
One word.
Okay.
A rope.
Aleem exhaled.
He typed:
Tomorrow morning. Near the riverwalk. I’ll bring hand warmers.
He hit send.
Then he stared at the ceiling.
His heart beat fast.
Not from fear.
From resolve.
Decision.
He would show up.
He would speak gently.
He would be honest.
He would be proper.
Because whatever happened next, Belle deserved mercy.
And he wanted to love her in a way that didn’t take.
Only offered.