Aftershocks
Chapter 2 – Aftershocks
Belle woke up like someone had kicked her in the ribs.
Not from a dream.
From the simple fact of consciousness.
For a second, she didn’t know where she was. The living room ceiling came into focus–white, clean, too normal. Then her body remembered before her mind did.
The ring.
The rain.
The sentence.
I don’t think I can do this.
Her stomach lurched.
Belle rolled onto her side and pressed her cheek against the rug. The fibres scratched her skin. She had fallen asleep on the floor at some point; now her back ached, stiff and unfamiliar, as if she was wearing someone else’s bones.
A soft snore came from the sofa.
Crystal.
Another, quieter breath–steady, even.
Ivan.
Belle lifted her head slowly.
Ivan was curled on the rug near the coffee table, one arm flung over his eyes like he was blocking out the sun. His phone lay face-down beside him. Crystal had claimed the sofa, legs tangled in the throw blanket, hair wild, mouth slightly open.
And at the dining table, in the warm spill of the standing lamp, Aleem sat with his back straight.
He hadn’t slept.
Belle could tell from the way his eyes looked–still clear, but a shade heavier. His hair was neat anyway, because of course it was. His hands were folded loosely on the table like he was waiting for a meeting to begin.
He was looking at his phone, not scrolling mindlessly. Just… watching it, as if he had set alarms or reminders or he was counting time.
When he noticed Belle stir, he didn’t rush over.
He didn’t make it a scene.
He just lowered his phone and said softly, “Morning.”
Belle’s throat tightened. “What time is it?”
“Seven.”
The number punched her.
Seven meant the world had already started. People were commuting. People were buying kopi. People were stepping into offices with clean hair and normal problems.
Belle’s entire life was still stuck under a shelter in a rainy carpark.
She swallowed. “Why are you still awake?”
Aleem paused, a beat too long.
“Couldn’t sleep,” he said.
It sounded casual.
But Belle had heard enough in her life to recognise when someone chose an answer because it was the safest one.
She pushed herself up, sitting with her knees drawn in. Her head throbbed slightly. Her eyes burned from crying.
Crystal stirred on the sofa, groaning. “Ugh… why morning so fast…”
Ivan muttered, “Because time is a scam.”
Crystal’s eyes flew open. She blinked, saw Belle, and immediately sat up.
“How you feel?” she demanded.
Belle’s mouth opened.
Nothing came.
Crystal interpreted the silence the way she always interpreted silence–emotionally, loudly. “Okay. No talking. No talking is allowed. You just exist.”
Ivan sat up too, rubbing his face. He looked around, took stock, then nodded like an ops guy seeing his dashboard.
“Any calls?” he asked.
Belle flinched at the word.
Aleem answered instead. “Her mum called last night. I picked up. Told them she’s with us.”
Ivan’s eyebrows lifted. “Good.”
Crystal made a face. “Auntie Tan going to come storming here with herbal tea and prayers.”
Belle’s chest tightened. “My mum…”
Aleem’s voice was quiet. “They’re worried. But they’re… okay.”
Belle stared at him.
Okay.
Her father’s voice from last night returned, low and steady.
Okay. Tell her okay.
She blinked hard.
Crystal scrambled off the sofa and went straight to the kitchen like she owned the place. She opened Belle’s fridge, made a sound of disgust, then turned around.
“Why you have nothing edible?”
“I–” Belle started.
Crystal waved her off. “Don’t answer. This is why you need me. Okay, Ivan, we need groceries.”
Ivan sighed. “It’s seven. NTUC not even open.”
Crystal pointed at him. “That’s why you got to be creative.”
Ivan stared blankly. “I am not going to Sheng Siong at seven in the morning because you want to be ‘creative.’”
Crystal gasped. “Sheng Siong is always open.”
Ivan blinked, offended by the accusation. “Since when?”
“Since the dawn of time.” Crystal looked at Belle, suddenly serious. “We’re not leaving you alone.”
Her voice softened. “Not today.”
Belle’s throat tightened. She nodded.
Aleem stood then, slow. “I’ll go downstairs to buy breakfast.”
Crystal spun. “No, you stay. I go.”
Aleem’s eyes flicked to Belle. “You okay if I go for fifteen minutes?”
Belle’s chest tightened at the thought of him leaving, even though she didn’t understand why. Maybe because he was the only one who didn’t make her pain feel like a disaster.
She forced herself to breathe.
Fifteen minutes.
It was nothing.
And yet.
“Okay,” she whispered.
Aleem nodded once. “I’ll be back.”
He put on his shoes neatly, grabbed his wallet, then paused by the door.
“Belle,” he said.
She looked up.
His gaze was steady, careful. “If you feel like you can’t breathe, just call me. Even if I’m downstairs.”
Belle’s lips trembled.
She nodded.
Aleem left.
The door clicked shut.
The silence that followed felt too wide.
Crystal flopped down beside Belle on the rug like she was trying to block the empty space Aleem had left.
Ivan pushed his hair back and looked at Belle with the kind of calm that could be mistaken for coldness if you didn’t know him.
“You need to take leave?” he asked.
Belle blinked. “What?”
“For work,” Ivan clarified. “You’re not going in today, right?”
Belle’s mind tried to picture herself at her desk, replying emails, making small talk, pretending her lungs weren’t full of sand.
Her body recoiled.
“No,” she whispered.
Crystal scoffed. “Obviously no.”
Ivan nodded like it was expected. “Okay. Who do we tell? Your boss? Your colleague? Your mum?”
Belle stared at him. “We?”
Ivan’s expression didn’t change. “Yes. We.”
Crystal pointed at him, triumphant. “See. Ivan is our HR.”
Ivan ignored her. “If you don’t want to talk to anyone, we can just say you’re unwell. Fever. Food poisoning. Migraines. Singapore standard excuses.”
Crystal leaned in. “Or we can say you got diarrhoea. Nobody will ask more.”
Belle let out a small, cracked laugh.
Crystal froze. “Oh! You laughed again.” Then she jabbed Belle’s shoulder lightly. “Good girl.”
Belle’s laugh died quickly. Tears threatened.
Ivan watched, then said, “Give me your boss number. I’ll draft text. You just send.”
Belle hesitated.
Handing over control felt humiliating.
But thinking felt impossible.
She reached for her phone.
Her screen lit up with missed calls.
Mum.
Dad.
Auntie–one of her mother’s friends, already activated.
Her chest tightened.
She scrolled fast, found her boss’s contact.
Crystal watched her face, and her own expression softened.
“Your parents already know?” Crystal asked.
Belle nodded, swallowing. “Aleem answered my mum last night.”
Ivan’s gaze flicked up. “They want to come?”
Belle’s stomach churned.
She pictured her mother arriving with panic in her eyes, her father walking in with that careful steadiness that would make her collapse again.
“I don’t know,” she whispered.
Crystal’s voice gentled. “We can… buffer first.”
Belle stared at her.
Crystal shrugged, trying to make it casual. “You know. Like… we stand at the door and we say, ‘Auntie, she’s sleeping.’ Or ‘Uncle, she just ate.’ We’re your shield today.”
Belle’s eyes burned.
She nodded.
Ivan took the phone from her gently, typed a short message to Belle’s boss with minimal details. He passed it back.
“Send,” he said.
Belle stared at the screen.
Her thumb hovered.
And then she pressed it.
The message flew away.
It felt like she had just admitted defeat.
Crystal leaned her head on Belle’s shoulder. “Good. One thing done.”
Belle’s body shook.
She didn’t cry loudly this time.
She just let tears spill quietly, soaking into Crystal’s hoodie.
Crystal didn’t move.
Ivan pretended not to notice, but he slid a tissue box closer anyway.
When the door opened fifteen minutes later, Belle’s entire body tensed.
Aleem returned with plastic bags and the smell of kaya toast.
He had bought too much.
Of course he had.
He placed everything on the table neatly: kopi, teh, a few packets of toast, soft-boiled eggs in a carrier, a box of cut fruit.
Crystal sat up like a dog hearing food. “Wah. Rich man.”
Aleem ignored her. He looked at Belle.
“Eat something,” he said softly.
Belle nodded.
She didn’t want food.
But she took the toast anyway because last night she had learned that eating was a form of survival.
Aleem poured warm water into a cup and placed it in front of her.
Crystal eyed him. “You’re like… hospital nurse.”
Aleem’s lips twitched, almost a smile. “I’m not.”
Ivan snorted. “You are.”
Aleem glanced at him. “Don’t start.”
Crystal grinned. “Start what? We just stating facts.”
Belle stared at the cup of water, then at Aleem.
There was something in the way he moved–efficient, quiet, purposeful–that made her feel less like she was drowning.
Like the room had a frame again.
She tried to swallow.
“Aleem,” she said.
He looked up immediately. “Yeah?”
Her voice shook. “Why are you… like this?”
Crystal frowned. “Like what?”
Belle didn’t look at Crystal. She kept her eyes on Aleem.
Aleem’s expression didn’t change, but his shoulders tightened slightly.
He understood what she meant.
Why were you here.
Why were you steady.
Why were you not disgusted by her mess.
Aleem looked down at the table, as if choosing his words with care.
“I’m your friend,” he said simply.
The answer felt too small.
Belle’s throat tightened. “But you didn’t… you didn’t have to stay awake.”
A beat.
Aleem’s fingers tapped once against the table, like he was grounding himself.
“I’ve seen what nights like that can do,” he said quietly.
Crystal’s mouth opened, ready to ask something.
Ivan shot her a look.
Crystal shut up for once.
Belle stared.
Aleem didn’t elaborate.
He didn’t say depression.
He didn’t say loss.
He didn’t make his history a weight she had to carry.
He just said, calmly, “I didn’t want you to be alone.”
Belle’s eyes burned.
She whispered, “I’m sorry.”
Aleem looked up, startled. “For what?”
“For being… like this.”
Crystal’s head snapped. “Eh. Don’t.”
Ivan’s voice was firm. “Don’t apologise for being hurt.”
Aleem said, softly, “You don’t need to be anything right now.”
Belle’s breath hitched.
The tears came again.
Aleem didn’t look away.
He didn’t stare, either.
He just stayed.
By late morning, the crash arrived.
Not sleep.
Just exhaustion.
Belle’s body felt heavy, as if her bones were made of wet sand. She sat on the sofa, staring at nothing. Her phone continued to buzz with messages she didn’t open.
Crystal checked it like an anxious guard dog.
“Wah,” Crystal muttered. “Your aunties are activated.”
Ivan leaned over. “Any important ones?”
Crystal scrolled. “Auntie Mei says ‘God has plan.’ Auntie Lili says ‘Maybe he got someone else.’ Auntie–”
“Stop reading,” Ivan said.
Crystal’s face twisted. “It’s toxic.”
Belle’s throat tightened.
She pictured people forming theories about her life like it was entertainment.
She turned her face away.
Aleem watched her, then spoke quietly. “Put your phone on Do Not Disturb.”
Belle blinked. “I can’t… what if my parents–”
“Favourite your parents’ contacts,” Aleem said. “They can still reach you. The rest can wait.”
Belle stared.
It was such a simple solution.
Her brain hadn’t been able to produce solutions.
Aleem took her phone only when she handed it to him. He didn’t touch anything else without permission. He guided her through the setting, then passed it back.
“Okay?” he asked.
Belle nodded.
Okay.
The room felt quieter immediately.
Not silent.
But safer.
At noon, Belle’s mother called again.
This time Belle answered.
Her hand shook so badly Crystal had to hold her wrist steady.
“Hello?” Belle whispered.
“Belle.” Her mother’s voice cracked on the first syllable. “Oh Belle…”
Belle’s throat closed.
She swallowed, trying to speak.
Her mother rushed on, words tumbling. “Mummy coming over, okay? Daddy also. We bring food, we–”
Belle’s chest tightened.
The thought of them in her space made her feel both comforted and trapped.
Crystal mouthed, Your choice.
Ivan watched, expression unreadable.
Aleem looked away slightly, giving Belle privacy even while sitting right there.
Proper.
Belle closed her eyes.
“Mummy,” she whispered, voice breaking. “Can… can not today?”
Her mother went quiet.
Belle panicked at the silence. “I–I just… I can’t… I can’t see you and Daddy and–”
Her mother exhaled shakily. “Okay. Okay, can. We don’t come. But you must not be alone.”
“I’m with ABIX,” Belle whispered.
Her mother’s voice softened, like she was forcing herself to calm. “Aleem there?”
Belle’s eyes stung. “Yes.”
A pause.
Then her mother said, quietly, “Thank you.”
Belle’s chest tightened. “Mummy…”
Her father’s voice came into the call, low and steady. “Belle.”
Belle’s breath caught.
“Pa,” she whispered.
Another pause. Like he was choosing the simplest thing that would hold.
“Okay,” her father said.
Just that.
Okay.
Belle covered her mouth with her hand.
Her father continued, voice gentle but firm. “You stay with your friends. You eat. You drink water. You sleep if you can. Don’t think about anything else today. Okay?”
Belle couldn’t answer with words.
So she nodded even though he couldn’t see.
“Okay,” she managed, a broken sound.
Her father’s voice softened. “Later, when you can, you come home. Or we come. Doesn’t matter. You’re our daughter.”
Belle’s throat burned.
Her mother sniffed. “Don’t disappear from us, okay? You don’t go into some corner and don’t talk to us.”
Belle’s chest tightened.
Don’t isolate her.
The boundary wasn’t an ultimatum.
It was a plea.
“I won’t,” Belle whispered.
Her mother exhaled, relief and fear mixed. “Okay. We love you.”
Belle’s hands shook.
“I love you too,” she whispered.
When she ended the call, she stared at the blank screen like it was a cliff.
Crystal hugged her immediately.
Ivan stood and went to the kitchen, giving them space.
Aleem remained where he was, hands folded, eyes lowered.
Belle whispered into Crystal’s shoulder, “My dad said okay.”
Crystal’s voice softened. “Uncle Tan… he’s a good man.”
Belle nodded, tears spilling.
She didn’t know why that one word hurt and healed at the same time.
The afternoon was worse.
Mornings had tasks. Calls. Food.
Afternoons had empty space.
Belle sat at her desk because she didn’t know what else to do.
Her laptop was open.
The wedding folder stared back at her like a ghost.
BTO Timeline.xlsx
Vendor Contacts
Guest List (Final)
Final.
Belle’s fingers hovered over the trackpad.
Her chest tightened.
Crystal wandered in and saw the screen.
“No,” Crystal said immediately.
Belle blinked. “I just–”
“No.” Crystal shut the laptop with a decisive slap. “Not today. Today is survival day.”
Belle’s throat tightened. “But what about–”
Ivan appeared behind Crystal, a glass of water in his hand. “The vendors can wait. The spreadsheet can wait. Your brain cannot handle that now.”
Belle stared at them.
She hated that they were right.
She hated that she needed them.
She hated that needing them made her feel like she was failing.
Aleem entered the room last.
He didn’t take the laptop.
He didn’t lecture.
He just looked at Belle carefully and asked, softly, “You want to take a shower?”
Belle blinked.
A shower.
Such a normal thing.
It felt impossible.
“I can’t,” she whispered.
Aleem nodded like that was a valid answer. “Okay. Then just wash face. Small.”
Small.
Belle’s throat tightened.
He didn’t say it like a motivational quote.
He said it like a measurement.
A manageable unit of living.
Belle stared at the floor.
Then she stood.
Her legs trembled.
Crystal hovered near her like a spotter at the gym. “You okay?”
Belle nodded, not trusting her voice.
She went into the bathroom.
She stared at her reflection.
Her eyes were swollen, cheeks blotchy, hair limp.
She looked like someone had wrung her out.
She turned on the tap.
Cold water.
She splashed her face.
For a second, the shock made her inhale sharply.
It was the first clean breath she had taken all day.
When she emerged, her face damp, Crystal clapped like she had won an award.
“Yes! Our girl!”
Ivan rolled his eyes. “Don’t overwhelm her.”
Crystal pointed at him. “Shut up. Let me celebrate.”
Belle’s mouth trembled.
And then–unexpectedly–she laughed.
Small.
But real.
Aleem’s gaze lifted, and for a fraction of a second something softened in his eyes.
He looked away quickly, as if even that softness needed to be proper.
That night, when Crystal finally went home to change and grab more clothes, Ivan went with her.
“I’ll be back,” Crystal announced dramatically at the door. “Don’t you die, Isabelle Tan.”
Belle nodded, tired.
Ivan paused. “Text me if you need anything.”
Belle nodded again.
Then they were gone.
The apartment felt too quiet.
Belle’s breathing became shallow.
Aleem was still there.
He washed the dishes from breakfast and lunch with quiet precision. He didn’t ask Belle to help. He didn’t ask Belle to talk.
When he finished, he dried his hands and came to sit on the single chair opposite the sofa.
He left space between them.
Belle stared at the floor.
The quiet returned like water creeping into a room.
She whispered, “I feel like… I don’t know what to do with my body.”
Aleem’s voice was steady. “What do you mean?”
Belle swallowed. “Like… I keep… I keep wanting to do something. Fix something. Message him. Call him. Ask why. Then I remember it’s over and I can’t breathe.”
Aleem nodded slowly. “That makes sense.”
Belle blinked at him. “It does?”
He nodded again. “Your mind is looking for control. It’s trying to find a way to undo what happened. That’s… normal.”
Belle’s throat tightened. “I feel stupid.”
Aleem’s tone softened. “You’re not.”
A pause.
Belle’s voice dropped. “I thought I was safe.”
Aleem didn’t answer immediately.
He stared at his hands for a beat, then looked up.
“I know,” he said quietly.
Those two words carried weight.
Not because he was agreeing.
Because he was telling her he could imagine the feeling.
Belle’s chest tightened. “How can someone just… do that?”
Aleem’s jaw flexed.
He chose his words carefully. “Some people don’t realise what they’re holding until they drop it.”
Belle’s eyes burned.
“And some people,” Aleem continued, voice firm but controlled, “are afraid of responsibility. When the future becomes real, they run.”
Belle stared at him.
There was anger in his voice, but it was contained.
Proper.
Belle whispered, “Were you angry last night?”
Aleem paused.
He looked away slightly, then back.
“Yes,” he admitted.
The honesty surprised her.
“But I’m not angry at you,” he added immediately.
Belle’s throat tightened. “I know.”
Another pause.
Aleem’s voice lowered. “Belle. Tonight… I’m going to sleep.”
Belle’s chest tightened with panic.
Aleem spoke quickly, steady. “Not leave. Just sleep. But before that, I need you to promise me something.”
Belle blinked. “What?”
Aleem’s eyes were calm, but there was a seriousness underneath.
“If your thoughts get dark,” he said quietly, “you tell me. You call me. You don’t sit with it alone.”
Belle stared.
Her throat closed.
Aleem wasn’t accusing her.
He wasn’t dramatizing.
He was naming a possibility like someone who had seen it before.
Belle’s hands trembled.
“I’m not going to…” she whispered, but the words felt thin.
Aleem nodded. “Okay. I’m not saying you will. I’m saying if it happens, you don’t hide it.”
Belle’s breath hitched.
Her eyes filled.
“I don’t want to disappear,” she whispered, voice breaking.
Aleem’s gaze softened. “Then don’t. Stay. Even if it’s messy. Stay.”
Belle’s chest cracked open.
She nodded, tears spilling.
“Okay,” she whispered.
Aleem exhaled slowly.
“Okay,” he repeated.
Not as permission.
As a promise.
When Crystal and Ivan returned later with clothes and snacks and far too much bubble tea, Belle was asleep.
Not deeply.
But asleep.
Crystal tiptoed in, saw Belle curled on the sofa with a blanket over her, and covered her mouth with her hand like she was witnessing something sacred.
Ivan’s voice was a whisper. “She finally crashed?”
Aleem nodded.
Crystal’s eyes narrowed at Aleem. “You didn’t sleep again.”
Aleem’s expression was neutral. “I will.”
Ivan watched him for a moment, then said quietly, “You good?”
Aleem’s jaw tightened.
He glanced at Belle, then back at Ivan.
“Yeah,” he said.
Ivan didn’t look convinced.
But he didn’t push.
Because they all understood something without saying it:
This was day one.
And the aftershocks were only beginning.