Man To Man
Chapter 41 – Man-to-Man
Belle used to think the hardest part was getting permission.
Now she understood something more complicated.
Permission could be granted in a sentence.
But respect–
real respect–
was earned in time.
In small decisions.
In the way a man carried responsibility when no one was watching.
And if there was one relationship that still felt unfinished,
one bridge that still needed a final beam,
it was the one between Aleem and Belle’s father.
Not because Belle’s father hated him.
He didn’t.
He was polite.
He showed up.
He said “okay.”
But Belle could feel it:
her father still held Aleem at arm’s length.
Not as punishment.
As protection.
Because Belle’s father had already watched one future crumble.
BTO.
Wedding plans.
A man who promised and then left.
Belle’s father wasn’t interested in more promises.
He wanted alignment.
So when Aleem finally asked for time alone–
not to impress,
not to plead,
but to face Belle’s father properly–
Belle’s stomach turned to water.
It was Aleem who brought it up.
Not in a dramatic announcement.
In the middle of folding laundry.
Which felt like a very Aleem way to change your life.
Belle was matching socks.
Aleem was folding shirts.
The flat was quiet.
Then Aleem said,
“I want to speak to your father.”
Belle’s hands froze.
“Speak… how?” she asked.
Aleem didn’t look up.
“One-to-one,” he said.
Belle’s throat tightened.
“About what?”
Aleem folded another shirt carefully.
“About responsibility,” he said.
Belle’s stomach dropped.
“Are you sure?” Belle whispered.
Aleem finally looked up.
His gaze was steady.
“Yes,” he said.
Belle swallowed.
“He’s… not hostile,” Belle said. “But he’s very… quiet.”
Aleem nodded.
“I know,” he said. “That’s why I want to speak.”
Belle’s eyes stung.
“What if he says something painful?” Belle asked.
Aleem’s jaw tightened.
“Then I hear it,” he said simply.
Hear it.
Not argue.
Not defend.
Hear.
Belle’s chest tightened.
“Okay,” Belle whispered.
Aleem nodded.
“Okay.”
Aleem asked Belle’s father directly.
No messages through Belle.
No triangulation.
Proper.
They met at a coffee shop near Belle’s parents’ place.
Not fancy.
Kopi.
Toast.
Plastic chairs.
Morning light.
A place where men didn’t have to perform feelings.
Belle wanted to follow.
Aleem said no.
“You don’t need to hear it,” he told her gently.
Belle’s throat tightened.
“I want to,” Belle admitted.
Aleem’s gaze softened.
“And I want to protect you from it,” he said.
Protect.
Not possess.
Belle exhaled.
“Okay,” Belle whispered.
Aleem nodded.
“Okay.”
So Belle stayed home.
She tried to focus.
She failed.
She washed dishes that were already clean.
She rearranged a drawer.
She refreshed her phone until her thumb felt raw.
She prayed in her own way–
not as a ritual,
but as a plea:
Please don’t let this crack.
At the coffee shop, Belle’s father arrived first.
He always did.
Early.
Prepared.
A man who believed punctuality was respect.
He ordered kopi-o.
He sat with his hands clasped.
He didn’t scroll his phone.
He simply waited.
Aleem arrived on time.
Not too early.
Not to compete.
He greeted Belle’s father with the respect he always gave.
“Uncle,” Aleem said.
Belle’s father nodded.
“Aleem,” he replied.
Not boy.
Not ah boy.
Aleem.
A name.
A small shift.
Aleem ordered kopi.
No sugar.
He sat.
For a moment, they said nothing.
The clatter of cups filled the space.
Then Aleem spoke.
“Thank you for meeting me,” Aleem said.
Belle’s father nodded.
“Mm,” he replied.
Aleem continued,
“I asked because… I want to align with you.”
Align.
Not ask permission.
Not plead.
Align.
Belle’s father’s eyes sharpened slightly.
“Align?” he repeated.
Aleem nodded.
“Yes,” Aleem said. “Because Belle is your daughter. And if I become her husband, it means I carry responsibility that overlaps with yours.”
Overlaps.
Not replaces.
Belle’s father’s jaw tightened.
He stared at Aleem.
Then he asked the first real question.
“Why did you choose her?”
Aleem didn’t blink.
“I didn’t choose her suddenly,” Aleem said quietly. “I chose her slowly. Over time.”
Belle’s father’s gaze stayed steady.
Aleem continued,
“I watched her in pain,” Aleem said. “And I watched her still try to be kind. Still try to be considerate. Even when she was falling apart.”
Belle’s father’s mouth tightened.
Aleem’s voice stayed calm.
“She doesn’t take,” Aleem said. “Even when she needs.”
Belle’s father’s eyes flickered.
Aleem looked down at his cup.
Then he said softly,
“That kind of person… is rare.”
Silence.
Belle’s father didn’t look impressed.
He looked… careful.
Then he asked,
“Are you sure you can carry her?”
Carry.
Belle’s father’s word.
Not romance.
Weight.
Aleem’s jaw tightened.
“Yes,” he said.
Belle’s father didn’t accept the yes.
He asked,
“How?”
Aleem inhaled.
He didn’t give a speech.
He gave structure.
“I will not isolate her,” Aleem said. “Your boundary stays. Sundays alternate. Calls normal. She comes home. She remains your daughter.”
Belle’s father watched.
Aleem continued,
“I will not weaponise religion,” Aleem said. “I will not use faith to control her. Her relationship with Allah is between her and Allah.”
Belle’s father’s gaze sharpened.
Aleem added,
“And I will not hide her,” Aleem said. “If people talk, I handle. If community pressures, I shield. My parents already understand that.”
Belle’s father’s jaw tightened.
Then he asked, quietly,
“And if she decides not to convert?”
The question landed.
This was the knife.
Belle’s father wasn’t only protecting Belle.
He was testing Aleem’s integrity.
Aleem didn’t flinch.
“If she is not sincere, we should not proceed,” Aleem said calmly.
Belle’s father stared.
Aleem continued,
“I want her because she is her,” Aleem said. “But my deen is my structure. Marriage is not only feelings. It is a contract with God. If she cannot believe, I cannot force it. And I cannot pretend.”
Belle’s father’s throat moved.
Aleem’s voice softened.
“But if she believes sincerely,” Aleem added, “then I will protect her sincerely. Not as a trophy. As my amanah.”
Amanah.
Trust.
Responsibility.
Belle’s father’s eyes held Aleem’s.
He asked,
“You love her?”
Aleem’s jaw tightened.
“Yes,” he said.
Belle’s father’s gaze stayed steady.
“Since when?”
Aleem hesitated.
Not because he didn’t know.
Because he was choosing how much truth was respectful.
Then he said,
“Since before she was free,” Aleem admitted.
Belle’s father’s eyes sharpened.
Aleem continued quickly,
“But I respected she was taken,” Aleem said. “So I never crossed that line. When she was with him, I was only friend. Only ABIX.”
Belle’s father stared.
Aleem’s voice was quiet.
“I never pursued her,” Aleem said. “I waited because it was proper.”
Proper.
The word settled.
Belle’s father’s jaw loosened slightly.
He looked down at his cup.
He was silent for a long moment.
Then he said,
“You know… the last one promised a lot.”
The last one.
The ex.
Belle’s father continued,
“He sat in my living room. He talked about future. He called me Uncle. He said he would take care. Then he left my daughter like trash.”
Aleem’s jaw tightened.
He didn’t defend.
He didn’t say “I’m different.”
He let the anger exist.
Then he said quietly,
“I am sorry she went through that.”
Belle’s father’s eyes held his.
“And you?” Belle’s father asked. “You can guarantee you won’t leave?”
Aleem exhaled.
“No,” he admitted.
Belle’s father’s eyes sharpened.
Aleem continued,
“I cannot guarantee life,” Aleem said. “But I can guarantee my intention. I can guarantee that I will not take advantage. And if I fail, I will face you. I will not run.”
Face you.
Not hide.
Belle’s father stared.
Aleem added,
“And I can guarantee I will never treat her pain like a nuisance,” Aleem said. “Because I have seen what collapse looks like. I know the cost of not showing up.”
Belle’s father’s throat moved.
He looked away for a moment.
Then he looked back.
His voice was quiet.
“Why you care so much?” he asked.
Aleem hesitated.
Then he answered honestly.
“Because I’ve seen what happens when people don’t care,” Aleem said softly. “And because… she deserves someone who stays.”
Stays.
Belle’s father’s eyes shimmered.
He blinked once.
Then he nodded slowly.
The nod was small.
But it mattered.
Belle’s father leaned back.
He exhaled.
Then he said,
“You are very serious.”
Aleem nodded.
“Yes,” he said.
Belle’s father stared.
Then he asked the last question.
“Can you carry her and still let her carry me?”
Let her carry me.
Belle’s father wasn’t asking for control.
He was asking for access.
A place.
Aleem’s gaze softened.
“Yes,” Aleem said. “That is the agreement. She stays your daughter.”
Belle’s father’s throat moved.
He nodded once.
Then he said the word.
“Okay.”
Not happy.
Not excited.
But aligned.
Okay.
When Aleem returned home, Belle was on the sofa, pretending to read.
She wasn’t reading.
Aleem stepped in quietly.
Belle looked up.
Her eyes searched his face.
Aleem’s expression was calm.
But his jaw was tight.
Belle’s throat tightened.
“How was it?” she whispered.
Aleem sat down beside her.
He exhaled.
“He is a good man,” Aleem said.
Belle’s eyes burned.
“What did he say?”
Aleem hesitated.
Then he said,
“He said… okay.”
Belle’s breath hitched.
Okay.
The word.
The blessing.
Belle’s tears came fast.
She covered her mouth.
Aleem’s hand reached for hers.
He squeezed gently.
“Belle,” he murmured.
Belle shook her head.
“I’m okay,” she whispered. “I just… I didn’t want you to be alone in there.”
Aleem’s gaze softened.
“I wasn’t alone,” he said. “I had the truth.”
Belle’s throat tightened.
Aleem continued, voice low,
“And I had you,” he added.
Belle’s eyes burned.
She leaned into him.
Not clinging.
Resting.
Aleem adjusted his arm around her.
Proper.
Quiet.
Held.
Man-to-man.
Not a battle.
An alignment.
A bridge built without drama.
Just truth.
Just responsibility.
Just the word that meant Belle could breathe.
Okay.