After The Sentence
Chapter 49 – After the Sentence
People thought the nikah was the climax.
The sentence spoken.
The documents signed.
The “Alhamdulillah” that released the room.
But Belle learned quickly:
the real work began after.
After the sentence.
After the congratulations.
After the photos.
After everyone had breathed.
Because after the sentence, the feelings arrived.
Not just joy.
Not just relief.
Grief too.
The grief that love-first parents carried quietly.
The grief of a father who had to release his daughter without fully understanding the language he used to do it.
The grief of a mother watching her child become a wife.
The grief of an old life ending.
And Belle–
Belle carried her own grief too.
Not for Aleem.
For the version of herself who had once thought she would marry someone else.
For the future she had mourned.
For the days she had wanted to disappear.
For the fact that joy did not erase the past.
It simply sat beside it.
And that was okay.
After the nikah session ended, there was food.
Always food.
A buffet line.
Plastic cutlery.
Relatives hovering.
Aunties with bright eyes.
Uncles with quiet nods.
Belle moved through it like she was inside a dream.
Aleem stayed beside her.
Not glued.
Not possessive.
Just… present.
He offered water when her throat tightened.
He guided her gently away when people crowded.
He didn’t let anyone corner her with invasive questions.
“Later,” Aleem would say politely.
Not rude.
Just firm.
Belle watched him.
This was his adab.
Protection without control.
At one point, Belle slipped away to find her parents.
Her mother was sitting with relatives.
Her cheeks were wet.
But she was smiling.
Doing both.
Belle’s father stood slightly apart.
His hands behind his back.
He looked like a man who didn’t know where to place himself after fulfilling his role.
Belle approached quietly.
“Dad,” she whispered.
Her father turned.
His eyes flicked to her.
He nodded.
Belle’s throat tightened.
“You okay?” Belle asked.
Her father’s jaw tightened.
“Yes,” he said.
Belle knew that wasn’t the full truth.
Belle stepped closer.
“Thank you for today,” Belle whispered.
Her father looked away.
“Okay,” he muttered.
Belle’s chest tightened.
She waited.
Her father’s throat moved.
Then, unexpectedly, he said,
“Strange.”
Belle blinked.
“What?”
Her father looked at her.
His voice was low.
“Strange feeling,” he admitted. “I speak the sentence. Everyone clap. Then suddenly… you are wife.”
Wife.
Belle’s throat tightened.
Her father’s eyes shimmered.
He blinked fast.
Then he said, as if annoyed at his own softness,
“I don’t like.”
Belle froze.
Her stomach dropped.
Her father saw her face.
He sighed.
“Not like… him,” her father corrected quickly. “I mean… I don’t like this feeling. Like something is gone.”
Gone.
Belle’s chest cracked.
Her father’s voice was rough.
“You know when you move house, you still have your things, but the old room empty,” her father said. “Like that.”
Belle’s eyes burned.
She nodded.
“I know,” Belle whispered.
Her father stared at her.
Then he said, quieter,
“But I also… okay. Because he is good man.”
Belle’s breath hitched.
Good man.
Belle nodded.
“Yes,” she whispered.
Her father’s jaw tightened.
“Just… don’t disappear,” her father added.
Belle’s throat closed.
“I won’t,” Belle whispered.
Her father nodded once.
“Okay,” he said.
Aleem approached then.
Belle’s father stiffened slightly.
Old reflex.
The protective posture.
Aleem greeted.
“Uncle,” Aleem said.
Belle’s father nodded.
“Aleem,” he replied.
Aleem stood quietly.
He didn’t rush.
He didn’t interrupt.
He waited.
Belle’s father looked at him.
Then Belle’s father said abruptly,
“Today you did good.”
Belle’s breath hitched.
Aleem blinked.
“Thank you, Uncle,” Aleem replied.
Belle’s father’s jaw tightened.
“You spoke clearly,” Belle’s father said. “You didn’t make mistakes.”
Aleem’s mouth twitched faintly.
“I was scared,” Aleem admitted.
Belle’s father stared.
“You scared?”
Aleem nodded.
“Yes,” he said. “Because if I panic, Belle panic.”
Belle’s father’s lips twitched–
almost a smile.
Almost.
Then Belle’s father nodded.
“Okay,” he said.
Aleem exhaled.
Later, when the crowd thinned slightly, Belle’s father pulled Aleem aside.
Not dramatic.
Just a shift.
The two men moved to a quieter corner near the corridor.
Belle saw it happen.
Her stomach tightened.
But she didn’t follow.
She had learned to respect the privacy of men speaking their own language.
So she stayed with her mother.
Her mother squeezed her hand.
“They talking,” her mother murmured.
Belle nodded.
“Yes,” Belle whispered.
Her mother’s eyes were wet.
“Don’t worry,” her mother whispered. “Your dad… he will say what he needs.”
Belle swallowed.
“Okay,” Belle whispered.
Her mother nodded.
“Okay.”
In the corridor, Belle’s father looked at Aleem.
His face was calm.
But his eyes were tired.
This was the father after the sentence.
Not performing.
Just truth.
Belle’s father spoke quietly.
“You know,” Belle’s father said, “I not good at talk. I’m not like your father. Your father calm, wise. I… I only know how to do.”
Aleem’s gaze softened.
“You did,” Aleem said. “You showed up.”
Belle’s father exhaled.
“Yes,” he said. “I showed up. But inside… I angry.”
Angry.
Aleem didn’t flinch.
Belle’s father continued,
“Not angry at you,” Belle’s father clarified. “Angry at life. Angry at the last one. Angry that my daughter had to cry. Angry that today I had to release her with a sentence I don’t even understand.”
Aleem’s jaw tightened.
He nodded.
“I understand,” Aleem said quietly.
Belle’s father stared.
“You don’t understand,” Belle’s father said. “You are man. You get wife. You gain. I lose.”
Lose.
The word landed.
Aleem’s throat tightened.
He didn’t argue.
He didn’t say, “You also gain a son.”
Because that would sound like selling.
Instead Aleem said softly,
“Yes,” Aleem admitted. “You lose a version of her. And that hurts.”
Belle’s father blinked.
His jaw loosened slightly.
Aleem continued,
“But I want you to know… I am not taking her from you,” Aleem said. “I am taking responsibility with you.”
With you.
Belle’s father’s throat moved.
He looked away.
Then he looked back.
His voice cracked slightly.
“You must let her come home,” Belle’s father said.
Aleem nodded.
“Yes,” Aleem replied.
Belle’s father’s jaw tightened.
“You must not make her feel guilty for loving us,” Belle’s father said.
Aleem’s chest tightened.
“Yes,” he replied.
Belle’s father stared.
“And if you have children,” Belle’s father said quietly, “you must let them know they have Chinese family. They have… us.”
Belle’s throat tightened even from afar.
Children.
Already.
Belle’s father’s fear was always about being erased.
Aleem nodded.
“Yes,” Aleem said. “They will know. They will be loved by both sides.”
Belle’s father’s eyes shimmered.
He blinked hard.
Then, in a voice rough with effort, he said,
“Today I tried to be… proper.”
Aleem’s throat tightened.
“You were,” Aleem said.
Belle’s father’s voice lowered.
“I am not perfect,” Belle’s father admitted. “I may say wrong things. I may be cold sometimes. But I love my daughter.”
Aleem nodded.
“I know,” he said.
Belle’s father stared.
Then he said the thing Belle would remember forever.
“Don’t waste her,” Belle’s father said.
Not romantic.
Not poetic.
But devastating.
Aleem’s jaw tightened.
His voice was quiet.
“I won’t,” Aleem promised.
Belle’s father’s throat moved.
He nodded once.
Then he said,
“Okay.”
Aleem bowed his head slightly.
“Okay,” Aleem echoed.
When they returned to the room, Belle’s father’s face looked the same.
Calm.
Reserved.
But Belle noticed something.
Her father’s shoulders were slightly lower.
Like he had released some of the anger.
Belle’s mother looked at him.
Her mother’s eyes asked a silent question.
Belle’s father nodded once.
Okay.
Belle’s chest tightened.
That evening, after the guests left, Belle returned home with Aleem.
Not as girlfriend.
As wife.
The flat felt the same.
But Belle felt different.
Not transformed.
Not magical.
Just… heavier with meaning.
Aleem set down his keys.
He exhaled.
Belle sank onto the sofa.
Her body trembled suddenly.
The adrenaline leaving.
The nerves collapsing.
Aleem sat beside her.
He didn’t speak immediately.
He just placed a glass of water in her hand.
Belle drank.
Her hands shook.
Aleem’s voice was soft.
“You did well,” he said.
Belle laughed weakly.
“I sat there,” she whispered.
Aleem’s mouth twitched.
“Yes,” he said. “And you survived it. That’s well.”
Belle’s eyes stung.
She whispered,
“My dad said he feels like he lost something.”
Aleem’s gaze softened.
“I know,” he said.
Belle swallowed.
“He talked to you?” Belle asked.
Aleem nodded.
“Yes,” he said.
Belle’s throat tightened.
“What did he say?”
Aleem hesitated.
Then he said quietly,
“He told me… don’t waste you.”
Belle’s breath hitched.
Her eyes filled.
Aleem’s voice was low.
“And I told him I won’t,” Aleem added.
Belle’s throat closed.
She leaned into Aleem.
Not to cling.
To rest.
Aleem’s arm wrapped around her.
Proper.
Steady.
Belle whispered,
“Okay.”
Aleem kissed her hair lightly.
“Okay,” he murmured.
After the sentence.
Joy and grief sitting together.
Love not erasing the past.
Families not becoming perfect overnight.
But everyone trying.
Showing up.
And a father’s blessing sounding exactly like him–
imperfect,
quiet,
protective,
and still, somehow,
enough.