Private Start
Chapter 16 – Private Start
Singapore greeted them the way it always did–humid, bright, impatient.
After Hokkaido’s quiet cold, the air at Changi felt like a hand pressed over Belle’s mouth.
Too warm.
Too familiar.
Too many things that reminded her who she used to be.
Crystal burst out of the arrival gate like she had been reborn.
“HOME!” she yelled. “I miss rice!”
Ivan, dragging his suitcase with the same dead-eyed efficiency he had in Japan, muttered, “We ate rice in Japan.”
Crystal glared. “Not Singapore rice. Our rice has… trauma and flavour.”
Ivan sighed. “Everything you say is trauma.”
Crystal grinned. “Because I am writer.”
Belle’s mouth twitched.
ABIX banter.
A familiar soundtrack.
It should’ve grounded her.
It did.
But there was something else now–something new and invisible, moving quietly under the conversation.
Because Aleem was walking beside her.
And they had said we can try.
Not in a dramatic way.
Not as a public proclamation.
Just… a private agreement made in an airport garden, with hand warmers and quiet truth.
Belle’s stomach tightened.
Trying meant change.
Trying meant risk.
Trying meant she had something to protect.
Not a secret.
A tenderness.
At baggage claim, Crystal became a conductor of chaos.
“Okay, luggage: everyone grab your own bag. Ivan, don’t judge my suitcase size. It’s emotional support.”
Ivan stared. “Your suitcase is literally bigger than you.”
Crystal scoffed. “That’s because I have dreams.”
Belle watched her bag roll out.
She reached for it, fingers steady.
A small victory.
Aleem’s gaze flicked to her hands, then away.
Not hovering.
Just noticing.
Proper.
When they finally gathered near the taxi stand, Ivan said, “We split? Two and two.”
Crystal immediately declared, “Girls with girls. Boys with boys. Because I am still proper even after Japan.”
Ivan rolled his eyes. “We’re friends. Not camp dorm.”
Crystal pointed at him. “Respect my culture.”
Belle’s cheeks warmed.
She glanced at Aleem.
His expression was calm.
But his eyes met hers briefly.
A quiet check.
Belle nodded slightly.
Okay.
They split as Crystal wanted.
Belle and Crystal took one taxi.
Ivan and Aleem took the other.
Belle sat by the window, watching the expressway lights streak past.
Crystal immediately began narrating the trip like she was recording a vlog.
“Okay, summary: Japan was healing. Belle touched snow. Ivan suffered. Aleem prayed. I ate cheesecake. The end.”
Belle laughed softly.
Crystal turned to her, sudden seriousness breaking through her drama.
“You okay?” Crystal asked.
The question was simple.
But Belle felt it differently now.
Because okay had become a language.
A bridge.
Belle nodded. “I’m… okay.”
Crystal studied her face.
She didn’t tease.
Not yet.
Instead she said, “Good. You look… more here.”
Belle’s throat tightened.
More here.
Not fully.
But more.
Belle whispered, “Thanks.”
Crystal leaned her head back against the seat and sighed dramatically. “Okay. Don’t thank me. Thank Japan.”
Belle smiled faintly.
Then her phone buzzed.
A message.
Aleem.
Reached baggage?
Belle’s heart did a small, stupid jump.
She typed:
On the way home. You?
A few seconds later:
Same. Text when you reach. Don’t rush.
Don’t rush.
Belle stared at the words.
She felt warmth under her ribs.
Not love.
Not yet.
Something like safety.
The next two days were a strange blur of re-entry.
Laundry.
Work emails.
Unpacking souvenirs.
Trying to act normal in a city that had never paused for her heartbreak.
On Monday morning, Belle returned to her desk with a cup of kopi she didn’t even want.
Her colleagues asked,
“How was Japan?”
Belle smiled politely.
“Cold. Nice.”
No one asked about her heart.
They asked about food.
Snow.
Shopping.
Belle answered like she was reading from a script.
Inside, she still felt like she was balancing two lives.
The life that had broken.
And the life that had started–quietly, carefully–beside Aleem.
Her phone buzzed at lunch.
Aleem.
You ate?
Belle blinked.
The question made her chest tighten.
Not because it was romantic.
Because it was consistent.
She typed:
Not yet. Busy.
The reply came quickly.
Go eat. Even if small. I’ll wait.
I’ll wait.
Belle stared.
She didn’t know why the words made her eyes sting.
Maybe because Jason used to rush her.
Maybe because she had learned to swallow hunger to keep up with someone else’s pace.
Aleem wasn’t rushing.
He was waiting.
Belle stood up and went to buy something.
Not because she suddenly loved food.
Because someone cared enough to insist.
That night, after Crystal spammed the ABIX group chat with photos from Japan, Ivan finally sent a message:
Back to reality. Everyone alive?
Crystal replied:
Alive and fabulous.
Belle typed:
Alive.
A beat.
Then Aleem:
Alive.
Four simple messages.
A group that refused to disappear.
Belle stared at the chat.
Her thumb hovered.
Should they tell them?
Now?
Not yet.
Not like this.
Not in a group chat while Crystal was still making jokes.
Belle’s stomach tightened.
She didn’t want ABIX to become a stage.
She wanted this to stay tender.
Protected.
Not scandalous secrecy.
Just… private.
Aleem messaged her separately later.
Can we meet this weekend? Just for a walk.
Belle’s heart beat faster.
Weekend.
A walk.
Not a date-date.
But it was.
She typed:
Okay.
They met on Saturday morning.
Not at a fancy café.
Not at a place that looked like a couple spot.
Aleem chose a park connector near the river.
Wide path.
Lots of people.
But enough space that no one paid attention.
It felt safe.
Like a neutral ground where her heart could learn how to exist again.
Belle arrived early.
Her hands were sweating even though it was Singapore warm.
She wore a simple dress and sneakers, hair tied back.
She tried not to look like she had tried.
Because trying felt embarrassing.
Then Aleem appeared.
Dark T-shirt.
Joggers.
A small sling bag.
Hair neat.
Clean-cut.
No beard.
He looked like himself–steady, practical.
But when he saw Belle, his eyes softened slightly.
Not a smile that announced anything.
Just a quiet shift.
“Hey,” he said.
Belle’s throat tightened. “Hey.”
A pause.
Aleem asked, as if it was normal,
“You okay?”
Belle nodded. “Okay.”
Okay.
They started walking.
Side by side.
Not touching.
The distance between their arms was small but deliberate.
A boundary.
A respect.
Proper.
The river beside them moved slowly.
The sun reflected in thin ripples.
Cyclists passed.
Kids ran.
Aunties walked dogs.
Normal life.
Belle’s chest tightened with a strange grief.
Not for Jason.
For herself.
For the version of her that used to walk through life without fear.
Aleem’s voice broke the silence gently.
“How’s work?”
Belle exhaled. “Okay. Busy. But… okay.”
Aleem nodded. “Good.”
Then, after a beat, he added,
“How’s your head? Any spirals?”
Belle swallowed.
Honesty had become her way of staying alive.
“A bit,” she admitted. “Sometimes I still… get hit. Like random.”
Aleem nodded slowly. “Yeah. Normal.”
The way he said normal made it feel less shameful.
Belle stared at the river.
Then she whispered, “I don’t know what we’re doing.”
Aleem’s pace didn’t change.
But his gaze flicked to her face.
“What do you mean?”
Belle swallowed.
She didn’t mean logistics.
She meant her heart.
Her guilt.
Her fear.
She whispered, “Are we… dating?”
The word felt heavy.
Too adult.
Too real.
Aleem slowed slightly.
He looked ahead, then back at Belle.
He chose his words carefully.
“I think… yes,” he said softly. “If you’re okay with that label.”
Belle’s chest tightened.
Label.
As if her heart needed a name to be real.
She whispered, “I’m scared of labels.”
Aleem nodded. “Okay.”
He didn’t argue.
He didn’t insist.
He just adjusted.
“We can call it… we’re trying,” he said. “We’re getting to know each other in a different way. Slowly.”
Slowly.
Belle exhaled.
“That feels… safer,” she admitted.
Aleem’s voice softened. “Good. Then that’s what we do.”
Belle’s eyes burned.
It wasn’t romance.
It was respect.
And respect felt more intimate than flirting.
They walked in silence again.
Then Belle asked, voice small,
“Did I… mess you up?”
Aleem blinked. “Huh?”
Belle’s cheeks warmed. “When I confessed. It was sudden. I didn’t mean to… throw something at you.”
Aleem’s lips pressed together.
He looked down briefly, then back up.
“You didn’t mess me up,” he said quietly.
Belle’s chest tightened.
Aleem continued, honest, “You surprised me. But… not in a bad way.”
Belle’s heart beat faster.
Aleem looked ahead, voice low.
“I’ve liked you for a while,” he admitted.
Belle’s breath caught.
She stared at him.
Aleem’s expression remained calm.
But the admission was raw.
“How long?” Belle whispered.
Aleem’s jaw flexed.
He didn’t look at her.
He kept his gaze on the path.
“Since before,” he said quietly. “Before you were single.”
Belle’s chest tightened.
Shock.
Warmth.
And then, guilt.
“You–” she started.
Aleem cut in gently, firm.
“I didn’t do anything,” he said. “Because you weren’t available. Proper is proper.”
Proper is proper.
Belle’s throat tightened.
Aleem finally looked at her.
His eyes were steady.
“Even when you were hurting, I didn’t…,” he stopped himself.
Belle’s stomach tightened.
“You didn’t take,” she whispered.
Aleem held her gaze.
“No,” he said. “I didn’t take.”
The words landed between them.
A vow.
A history.
A warning.
Belle’s eyes burned.
She whispered, “Thank you.”
Aleem shook his head slightly. “You don’t have to thank me for basic decency.”
Belle let out a shaky laugh. “You say that like it’s common.”
Aleem’s mouth twitched faintly.
“It should be,” he said.
Belle’s laughter faded.
Her chest tightened again.
Then she whispered, “So… what now?”
Aleem exhaled.
“This week,” he said, “I can introduce you to someone. Ustazah. Not for conversion. Just… questions. Safe space.”
Belle’s heart beat fast.
This.
The road.
The serious part.
Belle swallowed. “Okay.”
Aleem nodded. “And… we keep this between us for now. Not because we’re hiding. Just because it’s new. Fragile.”
Belle’s chest loosened.
“Yes,” she whispered. “I don’t want… noise.”
Aleem nodded. “We tell ABIX when we’re ready. But we don’t lie if they ask.”
Belle’s cheeks warmed.
Crystal would ask.
Crystal always asked.
Belle exhaled, half-amused, half-terrified.
“Okay,” she said.
Aleem’s voice softened. “Okay.”
They reached a bench near the river.
Aleem asked, “Want to sit?”
Belle nodded.
They sat.
A small gap between them.
Not cold.
Intentional.
Belle watched the water.
Then she glanced at Aleem’s hands.
They were resting on his knees.
Relaxed.
Steady.
She wanted to reach out.
Just once.
To feel if the steadiness was real.
Her fingers twitched.
Then she stopped.
Because wanting didn’t mean taking.
Proper.
Aleem’s voice came quietly.
“Belle.”
She looked up.
Aleem’s gaze was steady.
But softer than usual.
“I don’t want you to feel like you have to be okay for me,” he said.
Belle’s throat tightened.
Aleem continued, “You can still have bad days. You can still miss things. You can still cry. It doesn’t scare me.”
Belle’s eyes burned.
She whispered, “It scares me.”
Aleem nodded once. “I know.”
Belle swallowed.
Her voice cracked slightly.
“I’m scared I’m going to ruin you,” she whispered.
Aleem looked at her for a long beat.
Then he said, simply,
“You won’t.”
Belle’s breath hitched.
“How do you know?”
Aleem’s jaw tightened.
He didn’t say something romantic.
He said something true.
“Because I’m choosing,” he replied quietly. “Not drifting.”
Belle’s tears slipped out.
She wiped them quickly, embarrassed.
Aleem didn’t look away.
He didn’t touch.
He just stayed.
Showing up while hurting.
That was the only kind of love Belle could trust now.
She exhaled shakily.
Then, quietly, she asked,
“Can I… hold your hand?”
The question felt like stepping onto thin ice.
Aleem’s eyes softened.
He paused.
Not hesitation.
Checking.
Proper.
“Yeah,” he said softly. “If you want.”
Belle’s heart hammered.
She reached out slowly.
Her fingers brushed his.
Warm.
Solid.
Real.
Aleem’s hand closed gently around hers.
Not tight.
Not possessive.
Just… there.
Belle stared at their hands.
Her chest tightened.
Not from grief.
From the sudden, terrifying realisation that she could want again.
And this time, she was not wanting a fantasy.
She was wanting someone who stayed without taking.
Aleem’s thumb moved once–barely a stroke.
A small kindness.
Belle’s throat tightened.
She whispered, “Okay.”
Aleem’s voice came softly, almost like a reply to her whole life.
“Okay.”
The river kept moving.
Singapore kept sweating.
Life kept going.
But for the first time in a long time, Belle felt like she could keep going too.
Not because she was healed.
Because she wasn’t alone.
Because the start was private.
Protected.
Proper.
And it didn’t demand that she be perfect.
Only present.