Green Light
Chapter 30 – Green Light
There was a moment, after Belle’s father said he can hold, where Belle thought the hardest part was over.
Not because she believed every fear would vanish.
But because she believed the bridge was finally strong enough to carry weight.
Then Aleem came to pick her up on Saturday morning, and Belle realised she had misunderstood what “hardest” meant.
Hardest wasn’t only grief.
Hardest wasn’t only fear.
Hardest was when both worlds finally leaned in at the same time–
and you had to meet them with courage.
Because this was what green light looked like.
Not fireworks.
Not “congratulations.”
A quiet decision made by parents who were still hurting.
Parents who chose closeness anyway.
Mak’s invitation came through Aleem, again.
Not a long message.
Just a directive.
Come for lunch tomorrow. Ayah want talk.
Ayah want talk.
Belle’s stomach tightened.
She looked at Aleem’s face when he showed her.
His expression was calm.
But his eyes were serious.
“Are you okay?” Aleem asked.
Belle exhaled.
“Yes,” she said. “I’m okay. Just… nervous.”
Aleem nodded.
“Normal,” he said.
Belle’s hands tightened around her mug.
“Is it… bad that I’m scared?” she whispered.
Aleem’s gaze softened.
“No,” he said. “If you weren’t scared, I’d be worried.”
Belle blinked.
Aleem added quietly,
“Scared means you respect the stakes.”
The stakes.
Belle swallowed.
“Okay,” she whispered.
Aleem nodded.
“Okay.”
Sunday arrived too quickly.
Belle brought fruit again.
Not because she wanted to impress.
Because consistency was a language she had learned.
Aleem drove.
Belle stared out the window.
Her notebook was in her bag.
Not because she planned to do a presentation.
Because holding it made her feel anchored.
Like she had proof she was trying.
Aleem parked at his parents’ block.
They took the lift up.
Belle’s heart pounded.
Aleem glanced at her.
“Breathe,” he said.
Belle inhaled.
Then exhaled slowly.
“Okay,” she whispered.
Aleem nodded.
“Okay.”
Mak opened the door before Aleem could knock twice.
She looked at Belle.
Then she glanced at the fruit.
Her mouth tightened.
“Aiyo,” Mak murmured automatically. “Why buy again.”
Belle’s cheeks warmed.
“Small only, Auntie,” Belle said.
Mak huffed.
“Next time no need,” Mak muttered, but she took it.
Belle stepped inside.
The flat smelled like food.
Spices.
Fried onions.
Comfort.
Mak’s home always felt like a place where you could be scolded and fed in the same breath.
Ayah was in the living room.
Glasses.
Calm face.
He stood up when they entered.
Not stiff.
Not cold.
Just present.
“Hello,” Ayah said.
“Hello, Uncle,” Belle replied.
Ayah nodded.
Mak waved them toward the dining table.
“Eat,” Mak ordered. “Don’t talk first. Later food cold.”
Belle blinked.
Aleem sat.
Proper.
Belle sat.
Proper.
Mak slammed dishes down on the table like she was angry at hunger.
“Eat,” she repeated.
Belle obeyed.
The food was halal.
The food was good.
Mak watched Belle take a bite.
Then Mak relaxed slightly.
As if feeding Belle was her way of reassuring herself:
This girl is not a threat.
She is just a girl.
A daughter.
A future daughter-in-law.
Maybe.
Ayah ate quietly.
Aleem ate quietly.
Belle ate quietly.
The silence wasn’t awkward.
It was the kind of silence families had.
After a few minutes, Mak finally sighed.
“Okay,” Mak declared, wiping her hands dramatically. “Now talk.”
Belle’s stomach tightened.
Aleem’s gaze flicked to Belle.
Checking.
Belle nodded.
Ayah leaned back slightly.
He looked at Belle.
Then he looked at Aleem.
Then, finally, he spoke.
“Aleem,” Ayah said.
“Yes, Ayah,” Aleem replied.
Ayah’s voice was calm.
“You said you want proceed,” Ayah said.
Aleem nodded.
“Yes.”
Ayah nodded once.
Ayah turned to Belle.
“Belle,” Ayah said.
Belle’s throat tightened.
“Yes, Uncle,” she replied.
Ayah’s gaze was steady.
“You still learning?” Ayah asked.
Belle nodded.
“Yes,” she said. “I’m still learning.”
Ayah watched her.
Not testing her knowledge.
Testing her steadiness.
Ayah asked the question Belle expected.
“You sure you not doing for Aleem?”
Belle’s throat tightened.
Aleem’s jaw flexed.
But he didn’t interrupt.
He let Belle answer.
Proper.
Belle swallowed.
“No,” Belle said softly. “I mean… I love Aleem. But I know this can’t be for him. If I ever become Muslim, it must be because I believe. Not because I’m scared to lose him.”
Ayah’s gaze sharpened.
“You scared to lose him?” Ayah asked.
Belle’s cheeks burned.
Honesty.
Belle nodded.
“Yes,” she admitted. “I’m human. But… I don’t want to lie to myself. Or to Allah.”
The name landed.
Not in a preachy way.
In a respectful way.
Ayah nodded slowly.
Mak watched Belle’s face.
Mak’s eyes softened.
Ayah asked the next question.
“Then what you believe now?” Ayah asked.
Belle’s heart hammered.
This was dangerous.
Because belief was not a script.
Belle exhaled.
“I don’t know yet,” Belle said honestly. “But I’m… drawn to the calm. The structure. The mercy. When I watch Aleem pray, it feels… like a kind of peace I want to understand.”
Mak’s throat moved.
Ayah watched Belle.
Ayah nodded once.
“Okay,” Ayah said.
The word made Belle’s throat tighten.
Not approval.
But recognition.
Ayah continued, voice calm.
“You know if marry, children Muslim,” Ayah said.
Belle’s stomach tightened.
“Yes,” Belle said.
Ayah’s gaze held.
“And your parents?” Ayah asked.
Belle swallowed.
“They’re scared,” Belle said. “But they’re love-first. They show up. Their boundary is I don’t disappear.”
Ayah nodded slowly.
“Good,” Ayah said.
Mak’s voice cut in.
“Parents must not disappear,” Mak muttered.
Belle blinked.
Mak was aligning.
Not competing.
Ayah leaned forward slightly.
He looked at Belle.
“If you become Muslim, you still visit your parents,” Ayah said.
Belle’s throat tightened.
“Yes,” Belle said quickly.
Ayah nodded.
“Good,” he said.
Then Ayah looked at Aleem.
“Aleem,” Ayah said.
“Yes, Ayah,” Aleem replied.
Ayah’s voice was calm, but firm.
“You don’t isolate her,” Ayah said.
Aleem’s jaw tightened.
“Yes,” Aleem said.
Ayah’s gaze sharpened.
“You don’t let relatives bully her,” Ayah said.
Aleem nodded.
“Yes,” he said.
Ayah’s voice lowered.
“And you don’t let her lie to herself,” Ayah said.
Aleem’s throat moved.
“Yes,” he said.
Mak watched her husband.
Mak’s eyes were shiny.
Belle’s chest tightened.
This was not rigidity.
This was care.
Fear-shaped care.
Ayah leaned back.
He looked at Belle again.
Then he said the sentence Belle didn’t expect.
“Belle,” Ayah said quietly, “I can see you are kind.”
Belle’s eyes burned.
Ayah continued,
“You are respectful. You come. You help. You don’t talk big. You do small.”
Small.
Belle’s throat tightened.
Ayah’s gaze held.
“That is good,” Ayah said.
Belle swallowed.
Mak wiped her eyes quickly, annoyed.
“Don’t make me cry,” Mak muttered.
Ayah ignored her.
He looked at Aleem.
Then he said it.
“Okay,” Ayah said.
Aleem’s breath hitched.
Belle’s breath hitched.
Ayah continued,
“You can proceed. Marriage process. But you do it properly.”
Proceed.
Marriage process.
The words landed like a door opening wider.
Belle’s throat tightened.
Mak exhaled sharply.
Mak’s eyes were wet.
But Mak nodded.
“Okay,” Mak whispered, voice thick. “Proceed.”
Belle’s eyes spilled.
Aleem’s jaw tightened.
He blinked once.
Then he nodded.
“Yes, Ayah,” Aleem said quietly. “Yes, Mak.”
Ayah’s gaze stayed steady.
“Not fast,” Ayah reminded.
Aleem nodded.
“Yes.”
Mak sniffed.
“And you bring her parents also,” Mak added quickly. “Don’t make them feel left out.”
Aleem nodded.
“Yes.”
Belle’s throat tightened.
Mak looked at Belle.
Her voice softened.
“Your mother,” Mak said awkwardly, “she can come. She can see. We… we talk.”
Belle’s breath caught.
Mak was offering bridge again.
Not competition.
Not possession.
Bridge.
Belle whispered, “Okay.”
Mak nodded.
“Okay.”
After the talk, Mak did what she always did.
She turned emotions into logistics.
“Eat more,” Mak ordered.
Belle laughed weakly through tears.
Aleem reached for a tissue and slid it toward Belle.
Not a dramatic gesture.
Just care.
Ayah asked Aleem practical questions.
“When you want do nikah?”
Aleem answered carefully.
“Not soon. We need time. Belle still learning.”
Ayah nodded.
“Good,” Ayah said.
Mak frowned.
“Learning is okay,” Mak muttered. “But you must be serious.”
Aleem nodded.
“I am serious,” he said.
Mak watched him.
Then Mak glanced at Belle.
“And you,” Mak said, voice softer. “You also serious.”
Belle nodded.
“Yes,” she whispered. “I’m serious.”
Mak’s mouth trembled.
Then Mak stood abruptly.
“Okay, enough talk,” Mak declared. “I pack food for you.”
Belle blinked.
“Don’t–” Belle began.
Mak glared.
“Take,” Mak ordered.
Belle obeyed.
Because sometimes love sounded like scolding.
In the lift down, Belle held a plastic bag full of containers.
Vegetables.
Soup.
Fried chicken.
Not spicy.
Mak’s love.
Aleem stood beside her.
His face was calm.
But Belle could see the tension in his jaw.
The lift dinged.
They stepped out.
Belle looked up at him.
“Aleem,” she whispered.
Aleem exhaled.
“Okay,” he said.
Belle blinked.
“You’re… okay?” she asked.
Aleem nodded.
“Yes,” he said. “Just… heavy.”
Heavy.
Belle nodded.
“Same,” she whispered.
They walked toward the car.
Belle’s fingers tightened around the bag.
Then she whispered, voice trembling,
“They said proceed.”
Aleem’s gaze softened.
“They did,” he said.
Belle swallowed.
“That’s… green light?” Belle whispered.
Aleem’s mouth twitched faintly.
“It’s as green as they can give,” he said.
Belle laughed weakly.
Aleem reached out and squeezed Belle’s hand gently.
Not claiming.
Grounding.
Belle’s throat tightened.
“Aleem,” she whispered, “I’m scared again.”
Aleem’s gaze stayed steady.
“Of what?”
Belle swallowed.
“Of it becoming real,” she admitted.
Aleem’s mouth twitched.
“Yeah,” he said. “Me too.”
Belle blinked.
“You?”
Aleem nodded.
“Because when it becomes real,” he said quietly, “it means there’s more to lose.”
Belle’s chest tightened.
Aleem continued,
“But it also means… we’re building something worth holding.”
Worth holding.
Belle swallowed.
She nodded.
Aleem’s voice softened.
“Go home,” he said. “Tell your parents. Let them feel included.”
Belle nodded.
“Yes,” she whispered.
Aleem squeezed her hand again.
“Proper,” he murmured.
Belle’s mouth trembled.
“Proper,” she echoed.
That night, Belle sat at her dining table with her parents.
Her mother was peeling fruit.
Her father was reading the paper.
Belle placed Mak’s container on the table.
Her mother’s hands paused.
“From them?” her mother asked.
Belle nodded.
“Yes,” Belle said softly.
Her father lowered the paper slightly.
Belle inhaled.
“Aleem’s parents…” Belle began.
Her mother’s eyes widened.
Belle swallowed.
“They said okay,” Belle said. “They said we can proceed. Marriage process. But slowly. Properly. And… they said you can come. They want to talk too. Mak said she wants you included.”
Silence.
Her mother’s breath hitched.
Her father stared.
Then her father exhaled.
“Okay,” her father said.
Belle’s throat tightened.
Her mother’s eyes filled.
“She want to talk to me?” her mother whispered.
Belle nodded.
“Yes,” Belle said. “She said you can come. She said… don’t let you feel left out.”
Her mother covered her mouth.
Her shoulders shook.
Belle reached out and held her mother’s hand.
Her mother squeezed hard.
Her father watched them.
Then he said quietly,
“Okay means… they’re trying.”
Belle’s eyes burned.
“Yes,” she whispered.
Her father nodded once.
“Then we also try,” her father said.
Belle’s breath caught.
Her mother’s voice came out thick.
“Okay,” her mother whispered.
Belle’s throat tightened.
Two worlds.
Still two.
But now both sides were leaning.
Not perfectly.
Not without pain.
But leaning.
And Belle–who had once been afraid she would be left alone between worlds–realised something.
Green light wasn’t the absence of fear.
Green light was parents saying:
We’re scared.
But we will show up.
We will try.
We will not abandon you.
Belle swallowed.
Her voice was small.
“Okay,” she whispered.
Her father’s voice was steady.
“Okay,” he replied.
And for the first time, Belle felt the future settle into the room.
Not as a trap.
As a path.
A marriage process.
A bridge.
Properly.
One “okay” at a time.