Best Wishes
Chapter 51 – Best Wishes
The room smelled like jasmine tea, fried noodles, and nervous joy.
It wasn’t a ballroom.
It wasn’t a hotel banquet.
It was a function room that had seen birthday parties, baby showers, and awkward corporate team-bondings.
Warm lights.
Too many chairs.
A banner that read BEST WISHES in gold letters that Crystal insisted were “non-negotiable.”
Belle stood at the entrance for exactly three minutes before three aunties told her to sit down.
“You cannot stand, girl,” one aunty scolded.
“You are carrying,” another said, eyes wide with reverence.
Belle laughed weakly.
“I’m okay,” she tried.
Aleem appeared at her shoulder immediately.
“Okay,” he echoed, but his hand was already at her elbow, guiding her gently toward a chair.
Not pushing.
Not grabbing.
Just steering her away from the crowd like he had been trained for this.
Belle sat.
Her belly settled.
And suddenly she felt the sheer weight of it.
Not just the baby.
The room.
Both families.
ABIX.
Relatives.
A future that had become public.
Aleem crouched slightly so his face was level with hers.
“You okay?” he murmured.
Belle looked at him.
Clean-cut.
Neat.
Eyes steady.
But his pupils were slightly too sharp–
the look he got when he was tracking risk.
Belle nodded.
“Okay,” she whispered.
Aleem nodded back.
“Okay,” he replied.
Then he straightened and turned to the room like a man who had decided he would hold everything without letting it spill.
Crystal had turned planning into a military operation.
Ivan had turned it into a spreadsheet.
Between the two of them, the best wishes party ran smoother than some weddings Belle had attended.
A small gift table.
A photo corner with fake snow props–
“Because Hokkaido,” Crystal said, tearful and proud.
A buffet line.
A seating plan.
Even a quiet corner with a couch.
Ivan called it “rest space.”
Crystal called it “THE PREGNANCY THRONE.”
Ivan had stared at her.
“It’s a couch,” he said.
Crystal glared.
“A couch can be a throne if you respect it,” she snapped.
Ivan had blinked.
“Okay,” Ivan said.
Crystal had nearly thrown a cushion at him.
Now, in the party itself, Crystal stood near the door like a warm bouncer.
She greeted Belle’s relatives with loud affection.
She greeted Aleem’s relatives with slightly lower volume–
trying.
Ivan stood beside the gift table, scanning names.
He looked like a man who could coordinate an evacuation if the fire alarm rang.
Belle watched them and felt her chest tighten.
ABIX.
Still.
Family.
Belle’s parents arrived early.
Her mother wore a simple dress and an expression that said she was holding herself together with sheer will.
Her father wore a pressed shirt and his signature calm face.
He carried a bag of oranges.
Always oranges.
Like he couldn’t arrive empty-handed.
Like he needed to contribute something tangible to a situation he couldn’t control.
Belle’s mother rushed to Belle immediately.
“Sit properly,” her mother ordered.
Belle laughed.
“I am sitting,” Belle said.
Her mother’s eyes were wet.
“Sit properly,” her mother repeated, voice cracking.
Belle reached for her mother’s hand.
“Okay,” Belle whispered.
Her mother exhaled.
“Okay,” her mother whispered back.
Belle’s father approached.
He stood for a moment, looking at Belle’s belly like it was a concept he still hadn’t fully accepted.
Then he looked at Belle’s face.
His eyes softened.
“Okay,” he said.
Just that.
Not “congratulations.”
Not “I’m happy.”
Not “I’m scared.”
Just okay.
Belle’s throat tightened.
“Okay,” she whispered.
Her father nodded once.
Then his hand lifted.
A brief pat on her shoulder.
A father’s blessing in his language.
Aleem’s parents arrived next.
Mak came with a container–
of course she did.
Mak’s love was always in food and instructions.
Ayah came with a quiet smile and a box of dates.
Mak walked straight to Belle.
She stared at Belle’s belly.
Then she stared at Belle’s face.
Then, as if overwhelmed by the fact that she was feeling, she snapped,
“Why you so thin?”
Belle blinked.
“I’m… pregnant,” Belle offered.
Mak huffed.
“Pregnant also must eat,” Mak muttered.
Then she thrust the container at Belle’s mother.
“This for you,” Mak said.
Belle’s mother froze.
“For me?”
Mak waved.
“Chicken,” Mak said briskly. “Not spicy. For family.”
For family.
Belle’s mother’s eyes filled instantly.
“Thank you,” Belle’s mother whispered.
Mak looked uncomfortable.
“Okay lah,” Mak muttered. “Don’t cry.”
Belle’s mother laughed through tears.
“Okay,” her mother whispered.
Mak nodded.
“Okay,” Mak replied.
Ayah greeted Belle’s parents.
“Assalamualaikum,” Ayah said.
Belle’s father nodded.
“Hello,” he replied.
Belle’s mother smiled nervously.
“Waalaikumsalam,” she said, clearer this time.
Ayah’s eyes softened.
“Waalaikumsalam,” he replied warmly.
The bridge.
Still holding.
ABIX moved around the room like a support system disguised as party guests.
Crystal kept checking Belle’s water.
Ivan kept checking the chair angles like he was concerned about lumbar support.
Belle wanted to laugh at how absurd it was.
But then she realised:
this was their love language too.
Doing.
Showing up.
Holding the world through small acts.
The party settled.
People ate.
People chatted.
Relatives took photos.
Belle sat like a queen against her will.
Aleem stayed near.
Not hovering.
But always within reach.
If Belle shifted, his eyes flicked up.
If Belle’s face tightened, he noticed.
Belle caught him scanning the room when an aunty approached too fast.
Aleem would smile politely and intercept.
“Later,” he would say.
Then he would offer Belle space.
Belle looked at him and thought:
You were always like this.
Even before romance.
Even when she was broken.
Stayed.
Without taking.
Crystal clinked a glass.
“Okay, everyone!” Crystal announced.
Ivan flinched.
“Must you do this?” Ivan muttered.
“Yes,” Crystal snapped. “This is a best wishes party. We must wish. Bestly.”
Ivan stared.
“That’s not a word,” he said.
Crystal glared.
“It is when I say it,” she replied.
Belle laughed.
Crystal stood at the front.
She faced the room.
Her voice softened unexpectedly.
“Thank you for coming,” Crystal said.
Then she looked at Belle.
Her eyes filled immediately.
“Oh my God,” Crystal whispered.
Ivan sighed.
“Here we go,” Ivan murmured.
Crystal sniffed hard.
“I promised myself I wouldn’t cry,” Crystal said, already crying.
The room chuckled gently.
Crystal laughed through tears.
“Belle… you–” Crystal began, then choked.
Belle’s throat tightened.
Crystal took a breath.
“You survived,” Crystal said quietly. “You survived a year that could’ve killed you.”
The room went still.
Not awkward.
Respectful.
Crystal continued, voice trembling,
“And Aleem… you stayed without taking. You didn’t opportunistic. You didn’t force. You just… showed up.”
Belle’s eyes stung.
Crystal wiped her face aggressively.
“I wish you both… mercy,” Crystal whispered. “All the mercies. The kind that comes as calm days. The kind that comes as boring nights. The kind that comes as family trying.”
Belle’s chest cracked.
Crystal sniffed.
“Also,” Crystal added, voice wobbling, “I wish you a smooth delivery because if not I will fight someone.”
The room laughed.
Even Belle’s father’s mouth twitched.
Crystal stepped back.
Ivan took the glass.
He did not clink.
He just stood.
His voice was calm.
“I’m not good at speeches,” Ivan said.
Crystal whispered loudly,
“He’s lying, he can talk for 20 minutes about servers.”
Ivan ignored her.
He looked at Belle.
His gaze softened.
“Thank you for letting us be family,” Ivan said quietly.
Belle’s throat tightened.
Ivan continued,
“And congratulations,” he said, nodding toward Belle’s belly. “I hope you rest. And if you need anything, you ask. Don’t be hero.”
Belle laughed weakly.
Ivan nodded.
“Okay,” Ivan concluded.
Crystal hissed,
“STOP.”
The room laughed.
Ayah stood next.
He spoke simply.
A short dua.
A gentle voice.
No performance.
Just a blessing that sounded like warmth.
Mak didn’t speak.
Mak’s love wasn’t a microphone.
Mak’s love was a container of chicken and a thousand instructions.
Belle’s mother stood briefly.
She didn’t say much.
Just,
“Thank you for coming,” she whispered. “We are… grateful.”
Then she sat down quickly because her voice was breaking.
Belle looked at her father.
He had been quiet.
He always was.
Crystal nudged him playfully.
“Uncle, say something,” Crystal whispered.
Belle’s father looked at Crystal like she was a strange weather event.
Then he looked at Belle.
Then at Aleem.
And he said,
“Okay.”
The room went soft.
People laughed gently, but not in mockery.
In understanding.
Because everyone could feel what his “okay” meant.
Permission.
Blessing.
Love.
He sat down.
Done.
After the speeches, the room loosened.
People ate again.
People took photos again.
Belle sat and let the warmth wash over her.
Aleem crouched beside her.
“You okay?” he murmured.
Belle nodded.
“Okay,” she whispered.
Aleem’s gaze softened.
“Good,” he murmured.
He stood.
He reached for a bottle of water.
He handed it to her.
Proper.
Always.
Belle excused herself to the restroom.
Crystal insisted on escorting her.
“I am your bodyguard,” Crystal declared.
Belle laughed.
“You are not necessary,” Belle protested.
Crystal narrowed her eyes.
“Necessary is not the point,” Crystal said. “Love is the point.”
Belle rolled her eyes affectionately.
“Okay,” Belle muttered.
Crystal gasped.
“Don’t you start with the okay also,” Crystal hissed.
Belle laughed.
In the restroom, Belle washed her hands.
She stared at herself in the mirror.
Belly round.
Cheeks slightly fuller.
Eyes tired.
But alive.
She returned to the room.
And the first sign came.
Not pain.
Not dramatic cramping.
Just a strange warmth.
A sensation that didn’t belong.
Belle froze.
Her hand moved instinctively to her belly.
Another warmth.
A slow release.
Belle’s eyes widened.
Her breath hitched.
Crystal saw her face.
“What?” Crystal whispered.
Belle swallowed.
“I think…” Belle began.
Crystal’s eyes widened.
“NO,” Crystal whispered, horrified.
Belle blinked.
“What do you mean no?”
Crystal grabbed Belle’s arm.
“Not now,” Crystal hissed. “Not at the party.”
Belle’s throat tightened.
“It’s not– I can’t–”
Another warmth.
Belle inhaled sharply.
Crystal’s face drained.
“Oh my God,” Crystal whispered.
Belle’s voice shook.
“I think my water broke.”
Crystal froze.
Then she made a sound that was half scream, half prayer.
She spun on her heel.
“IVAN!” Crystal shrieked.
Ivan looked up instantly.
“What?”
Crystal pointed wildly.
“IT’S HAPPENING,” Crystal cried.
Ivan stood so fast his chair scraped.
Aleem turned.
His eyes locked onto Belle.
Instant.
The room narrowed.
Aleem crossed the space in two seconds.
His voice was low.
“Belle?”
Belle’s hands trembled.
“Aleem,” she whispered. “I think my water broke.”
Aleem’s face went still.
Not blank.
Just… controlled.
His throat moved.
He inhaled.
Then he nodded.
“Okay,” he said.
But his hand–
his hand shook when it reached for her.
Belle noticed.
Her chest tightened.
Aleem rarely shook.
He was the steady one.
Now he was vibrating with fear he was trying not to show.
Ivan stepped in immediately.
“Car,” Ivan said. “Now.”
Crystal grabbed Belle’s bag.
“I PACKED EVERYTHING,” Crystal cried. “BECAUSE I’M A GENIUS.”
Ivan stared.
“This is why I tolerate you,” Ivan muttered.
Mak was already moving.
Her chair pushed back.
She strode over.
“What happened?” Mak demanded.
Belle’s mother appeared, face pale.
“What happened?” Belle’s mother cried.
Belle’s father stood.
Calm face.
But his eyes sharpened.
Aleem’s voice was steady, but his breath wasn’t.
“Water broke,” Aleem said.
Mak’s eyes widened.
Then Mak snapped into action.
“Okay, okay,” Mak barked. “No panic. You bring towel. You bring phone. You bring–”
She looked at Aleem.
Aleem’s jaw was tight.
His eyes were too sharp.
Mak’s voice softened a fraction.
“Aleem,” Mak snapped gently. “Breathe.”
Aleem inhaled.
He tried.
But his hand still trembled on Belle’s arm.
Belle’s mother began crying.
“Oh my God, oh my God,” Belle’s mother whispered, hands flying.
Belle reached for her mother.
“Mummy,” Belle whispered. “I’m okay.”
Her mother shook her head.
“Okay,” her mother tried to say.
It came out broken.
Ivan was already clearing a path.
“Excuse us,” Ivan said firmly to relatives. “Emergency.”
Relatives parted.
Crystal shouted,
“MOVE MOVE MOVE.”
Ivan hissed,
“Crystal, stop yelling.”
Crystal yelled louder.
“I’M NOT YELLING, THIS IS MY INSIDE VOICE.”
They moved as a unit toward the door.
Belle’s belly tightened.
Not unbearable.
But real.
Aleem held her carefully.
Not lifting.
Just supporting.
His fingers were too tight.
Belle glanced up.
“Aleem,” she whispered.
Aleem looked at her.
His eyes were wet.
Just slightly.
But enough.
“I’m okay,” Belle whispered. “Look at me. I’m okay.”
Aleem nodded.
“I know,” he said.
But his voice shook.
The fear was leaking.
And then Belle’s father stepped in.
Not loudly.
Not dramatically.
He came close to Aleem.
Close enough that only they could hear.
Belle watched, heart pounding.
Her father’s face was calm.
But his eyes were sharp.
Protective.
Steady.
He looked at Aleem.
And he said, in that voice that had blessed their marriage with one word,
“Okay.”
Aleem blinked.
Belle’s father continued, low,
“Breathe. Drive properly.”
Drive properly.
Not “be strong.”
Not “don’t cry.”
A practical instruction.
A father’s way of steadying the new protector.
Aleem’s throat moved.
He inhaled.
His shoulders dropped slightly.
Just a fraction.
But Belle saw it.
Aleem nodded.
“Okay,” Aleem whispered.
Belle’s father nodded.
“Okay,” he repeated.
Son-in-law acknowledged.
Not as a title.
As a responsibility shared.
Outside, the night air hit Belle’s face.
The car was waiting.
Ivan had already called.
Of course he had.
Crystal shoved the bag into the backseat.
Mak climbed in like she owned the world.
“No,” Aleem said quickly. “Mak, I–”
Mak glared.
“You drive,” Mak snapped. “I sit behind with Belle. I talk to her. You focus.”
Aleem hesitated.
Belle’s hand squeezed his.
“Okay,” Belle whispered.
Aleem swallowed.
“Okay,” he replied.
Belle’s mother stood at the curb, crying.
Belle’s father stood beside her.
His hand on her shoulder.
Holding her.
Belle’s mother called,
“Call me! Update me!”
Mak snapped,
“Of course!”
Ivan hovered nearby.
“Do you need me to follow?” he asked.
Aleem shook his head.
“Stay with our parents,” Aleem said. “Help them.”
Ivan nodded.
“Okay,” Ivan replied.
Crystal grabbed Belle’s hand for a second.
“You’re going to be fine,” Crystal whispered fiercely. “If not I will fight the hospital.”
Belle laughed weakly.
“Okay,” Belle whispered.
Crystal sobbed.
“Don’t say okay like Uncle,” Crystal cried.
Belle laughed again through fear.
Aleem got into the driver’s seat.
His hands gripped the steering wheel too tightly.
Mak clicked her seatbelt.
“Bismillah,” Mak muttered.
Belle leaned back.
Pain tightened.
She inhaled.
Aleem glanced at her in the mirror.
His eyes were too sharp.
Belle lifted her hand.
She placed it where he could see.
A signal.
I’m here.
I’m okay.
Aleem inhaled.
His grip loosened slightly.
He whispered,
“Alhamdulillah.”
Belle’s throat tightened.
“Okay,” Belle whispered.
Aleem nodded.
“Okay,” he replied.
The car pulled away.
Behind them, the function room lights stayed on.
The banner still read BEST WISHES.
And Belle realised, as the city blurred past,
this was what mercy looked like now.
Not calm.
Not perfect.
Just family moving as one body.
Just fear held inside love.
Just a father steadying a son-in-law with one word.
Just a woman breathing through pain and still saying:
Okay.