Acceptance Through Action

Chapter 38 – Acceptance Through Action

Belle used to think acceptance came as a sentence.

A declaration.

A speech.

A dramatic “we approve” that would settle everything into peace.

But she was learning something else.

Acceptance didn’t arrive loudly.

It arrived through actions.

Small hands doing small things.

A mother packing food.

A father choosing to show up.

A message that said drive safe.

A chair pulled out without being asked.

A plate refilled without comment.

It was messy.

Uneven.

Sometimes it came with tears.

Sometimes it came with scolding.

But it came.

And the day Belle realised it, it wasn’t at a meeting.

It was on a random weekday, under fluorescent lighting, with a bag of groceries in her hands.

Mak called on a Tuesday.

Belle was at work when the phone buzzed.

Auntie Mak.

Belle’s heart jumped.

Mak never called unless it mattered.

Belle stepped into a quiet corner and answered.

“Auntie?” Belle said softly.

Mak’s voice came through brisk.

“Belle,” Mak said. “You free tonight?”

Belle blinked.

“Tonight?”

Mak made an impatient sound.

“Yes tonight,” Mak said. “I want go supermarket. You come.”

Belle froze.

Supermarket?

With Mak?

Belle’s stomach tightened.

She glanced at the time.

Then she swallowed.

“Yes, Auntie,” Belle said. “I can.”

Mak nodded like Belle could see it.

“Okay,” Mak said. “Aleem pick you. Seven.”

Then Mak hung up.

Belle stared at the phone.

She didn’t know whether to panic or laugh.

Supermarket.

This was… domestic.

This was… family.

It was also terrifying.

Because families didn’t invite you to supermarkets unless they were starting to imagine you inside their normal.

At seven, Aleem picked Belle up.

Belle got into the car with a nervous smile.

“Auntie called,” Belle said.

Aleem nodded.

“She told me,” he replied.

Belle swallowed.

“What is this about?”

Aleem’s mouth twitched faintly.

“It’s about groceries,” he said.

Belle stared.

“Aleem,” Belle whispered, “I’m scared.”

Aleem glanced at her.

His gaze softened.

“Of groceries?”

Belle huffed a weak laugh.

“No,” Belle murmured. “Of… being included.”

Aleem’s jaw tightened slightly.

Then he said quietly,

“That’s normal.”

Belle exhaled.

“Okay,” she whispered.

Aleem nodded.

“Okay.”

They met Mak and Ayah at the NTUC.

Mak was already pushing a trolley like she was on a mission.

Ayah walked beside her calmly, hands in pockets.

Mak saw Belle and waved sharply.

“Come,” Mak ordered.

Belle approached.

“Hello, Auntie. Hello, Uncle,” Belle greeted.

Ayah nodded.

“Hello,” he said.

Mak’s eyes flicked over Belle.

“Wear jacket ah,” Mak muttered. “Supermarket cold.”

Belle blinked.

“Yes, Auntie,” Belle replied.

Mak nodded, satisfied.

Then Mak shoved the trolley handle toward Belle.

“Push,” Mak said.

Belle froze.

Push?

Aleem’s mouth twitched.

Ayah’s eyes softened.

Belle took the trolley.

Her hands wrapped around the plastic handle.

Something small in her chest loosened.

This was not performance.

This was normal.

Mak began grabbing items.

Vegetables.

Rice.

Chicken.

Halal-certified everything, of course.

Mak was fast.

Decisive.

“No nonsense,” Mak muttered as she compared labels.

Belle followed, pushing the trolley.

She felt like a new recruit.

Then Mak stopped at the bread aisle and frowned.

“Belle,” Mak said.

Belle jumped.

“Yes?”

Mak squinted at the shelves.

“You eat what bread?” Mak demanded.

Belle blinked.

“What bread?”

Mak waved.

“White? Wholemeal? Seed? You like?”

Belle’s throat tightened.

Mak was… asking.

Not testing.

Asking.

Belle swallowed.

“Wholemeal is okay,” Belle said softly.

Mak nodded.

“Okay,” Mak replied.

Then Mak reached for wholemeal bread.

And put it in the trolley.

Like it belonged there.

Belle’s eyes stung.

Aleem noticed.

His hand brushed her elbow lightly.

Grounding.

Belle breathed.

They moved to the snack aisle.

Mak paused.

Ayah glanced at her.

Mak sighed dramatically.

“Aleem,” Mak called.

Aleem stepped closer.

“What?” Aleem asked.

Mak pointed at a shelf.

“Which one you want?” Mak demanded.

Aleem blinked.

“I don’t need,” he said.

Mak glared.

“Don’t lie,” Mak snapped. “You like the peanut one.”

Aleem sighed.

“Okay,” Aleem admitted.

Mak grabbed the peanut one.

Then Mak turned to Belle.

“You?” Mak asked.

Belle froze.

Snacks.

A stupid, simple question.

But her chest tightened.

Because it sounded like:

What do you like?

What do you want?

Not:

Are you acceptable?

Belle swallowed.

“I like… seaweed,” Belle said quietly.

Mak’s eyebrows lifted.

“Seaweed?”

Belle nodded.

“Yes,” she whispered.

Mak huffed.

“Okay,” Mak said. “Seaweed.”

Then Mak took a pack of seaweed and tossed it into the trolley.

Belle’s throat tightened.

Ayah watched and said nothing.

But his gaze softened.

At checkout, Mak insisted on paying.

“No,” Belle protested automatically.

Mak glared.

“Don’t argue,” Mak snapped. “You still young.”

Belle blinked.

“I’m not that young,” Belle whispered.

Mak ignored her.

Ayah stood calmly.

Aleem stood quietly.

Belle stood with her hands clasped like a child.

When the cashier packed items into bags, Mak handed one to Belle.

“Carry,” Mak said.

Belle took it.

It was heavy.

Rice.

Vegetables.

Food.

Responsibility.

Mak’s voice was brisk.

“Come,” Mak said. “We go your house.”

Belle froze.

“My… house?”

Mak nodded.

“Yes,” Mak said. “Your parents there?”

Belle’s heart jumped.

“You want to… go my parents’ house?”

Mak frowned.

“Why not,” Mak muttered. “They also family.”

Belle’s throat tightened.

Aleem’s eyes widened slightly.

Ayah’s gaze was calm.

“Okay,” Ayah said simply.

Okay.

Belle’s hands trembled around the grocery bag.

She nodded.

“Okay,” Belle whispered.

They drove to Belle’s parents’ flat.

Belle messaged her mother quickly.

Mak and Ayah coming upstairs. With groceries.

Her mother’s reply came immediately.

WHAT.

Belle’s stomach twisted.

Then another message.

Okay. I am here.

Okay.

Belle exhaled.

At Belle’s parents’ door, Belle knocked.

Her mother opened.

She froze when she saw Mak.

Mak froze when she saw Belle’s mother.

For a moment, two mothers stared.

Not hostile.

Just… cautious.

Like women meeting at the edge of something unfamiliar.

Then Mak spoke first.

“Hello,” Mak said.

Belle’s mother blinked.

“Hello,” Belle’s mother replied.

Mak raised the grocery bag slightly.

“I buy too much,” Mak said abruptly. “Share.”

Belle’s mother stared.

Then her eyes filled.

Belle’s mother’s voice came out thick.

“Thank you,” her mother whispered.

Mak waved dismissively.

“Aiyo,” Mak muttered. “Don’t thank. Later I shy.”

Belle’s mother let out a small wet laugh.

Her father appeared behind her.

He saw Mak and Ayah.

His eyes widened.

Then he nodded.

“Hello,” Belle’s father said.

Ayah nodded.

“Hello,” Ayah replied.

Mak stepped in, shoes off quickly.

She glanced around like she was memorising.

Then Mak marched to the kitchen like she owned it.

Belle’s mother followed, flustered.

“Uh… Auntie…,” Belle’s mother began.

Mak waved.

“I just put things,” Mak said. “Then I go.”

Belle’s mother’s eyes were wet.

“You want tea?” Belle’s mother offered quickly.

Mak hesitated.

Then she cleared her throat.

“Okay,” Mak said.

Belle’s throat tightened.

Okay.

Tea meant staying.

Not just dropping groceries.

Staying.

They sat at Belle’s dining table.

Tea cups.

Two mothers.

Two fathers.

Two children.

ABIX not here.

No buffer.

Just families.

Belle’s mother poured tea carefully.

Mak watched.

Then Mak said awkwardly,

“Your tea… good.”

Belle’s mother blinked.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Mak nodded.

Ayah cleared his throat.

He looked at Belle’s father.

Then he said calmly,

“We are here because… we want to be neighbours, not strangers.”

Neighbours.

Belle’s throat tightened.

Belle’s father nodded slowly.

“Yes,” Belle’s father said quietly. “That is good.”

Mak huffed.

“Also because I buy too much,” Mak muttered.

Belle’s father’s mouth twitched.

“Okay,” Belle’s father said.

Mak’s eyes shimmered.

“Okay,” Mak replied.

Belle’s mother wiped her eyes quickly.

Then she laughed softly.

“This is very strange,” Belle’s mother admitted.

Mak nodded.

“Yes,” Mak said. “Strange. But okay.”

Belle’s mother nodded.

“Okay,” she whispered.

Belle sat there, hands wrapped around her cup.

Her chest felt like it was splitting.

Not from pain.

From… something opening.

This was acceptance.

Not a speech.

A bag of groceries.

Wholemeal bread.

Seaweed snacks.

A mother stepping into another mother’s kitchen.

A father saying neighbours, not strangers.

Belle looked at Aleem.

He wasn’t smiling widely.

He was calm.

But his eyes were soft.

He squeezed Belle’s hand lightly under the table.

Proper.

Belle’s eyes stung.

She squeezed back.

Not taking.

Holding.

When Mak and Ayah finally left, Belle’s mother stood at the door, dazed.

Belle’s father watched them go.

Then Belle’s father turned to Belle.

His voice was quiet.

“That… is effort,” Belle’s father said.

Belle’s throat tightened.

“Yes,” Belle whispered.

Her father nodded.

“Okay,” her father said.

Belle nodded.

“Okay,” she replied.

From the corridor, Mak’s voice floated back.

“Belle!” Mak shouted.

Belle leaned out.

“Yes, Auntie?”

Mak pointed sharply.

“Seaweed in bag,” Mak barked. “Eat.”

Belle laughed through tears.

“Okay,” Belle called.

Mak waved.

“Okay,” Mak muttered.

The door closed.

Belle stood there for a moment, heart full and trembling.

Acceptance through action.

Not loud.

Not perfect.

But real.

And for the first time, Belle believed something new.

Maybe this marriage wouldn’t tear her world apart.

Maybe it would stitch worlds together.

One small act at a time.