Names
Chapter 54 – Names
After delivery, the world shrank.
Not because life became small.
Because life became concentrated.
Two bassinets.
Two bundles that breathed like tiny secrets.
A room that hummed softly with machines.
A nurse’s careful footsteps.
The slow, stunned silence of a body that had survived something ancient.
Belle drifted in and out.
She would wake to pain.
To thirst.
To the pressure of milk that didn’t feel like hers yet.
To Aleem’s voice, low and steady, asking nurses questions in a tone that said:
I am responsible now.
Then she would drift again.
And each time she opened her eyes, the same sight anchored her.
Aleem sitting beside the bassinets.
Shoulders slightly forward.
Hands careful.
A man who had always been proper now learning a new kind of proper.
The kind that needed gentleness down to the millimetre.
When Belle woke fully, her throat dry, Aleem looked up instantly.
“You okay?” he murmured.
Belle blinked slowly.
“Okay,” she whispered.
Aleem’s eyes softened.
“Okay,” he echoed.
Then he leaned in and pressed a kiss to her forehead.
Brief.
Warm.
Not romantic.
Reverent.
“You did it,” he whispered.
Belle’s eyes stung.
“I’m… tired,” she admitted.
Aleem nodded.
“I know,” he said. “Rest. We’re stable.”
We.
Belle turned her head slightly.
Two tiny bundles.
One smaller face, more scrunched.
One slightly longer nose.
Belle’s chest tightened.
“They’re real,” she whispered.
Aleem’s mouth twitched.
“Yes,” he said softly. “Very real.”
Hospital rules arrived like a second layer of reality.
Visiting hours.
Limited entry.
Masks.
Hand sanitiser.
No crowd.
The nurse explained calmly,
“Parents first. One at a time. Short.”
Belle’s heart tightened.
Because she could already imagine the corridor.
Her mother’s anxious face.
Mak’s fierce worry disguised as instructions.
ABIX pacing.
Her father sitting like a statue with cracks.
Aleem nodded to the nurse.
“Okay,” he said.
Then he looked at Belle.
His voice was low.
“How do you want to do?” he asked.
Not “my parents first.”
Not “your parents first.”
How do you want.
Belle’s throat tightened.
“My parents first,” she whispered.
Aleem nodded instantly.
“Okay,” he said.
No hesitation.
No ego.
Proper.
He stepped out.
Belle’s mother entered first.
She had tried to wipe her face dry in the corridor.
It failed.
The moment she stepped into the room and saw the babies, her entire body softened.
Her hand flew to her mouth.
Her eyes filled.
She made a sound that wasn’t words.
Belle’s chest tightened.
“Mummy,” Belle whispered.
Her mother turned.
Her eyes were wet and bright.
“Belle,” her mother whispered, voice breaking. “Are you okay?”
Belle nodded.
“Okay,” Belle whispered.
Her mother laughed and cried at the same time.
“Sorry,” her mother whispered immediately. “Sorry, I’m… I’m crying.”
Belle’s throat closed.
“Don’t apologise,” Belle whispered. “Just be here.”
Her mother nodded too hard.
“Okay,” her mother whispered.
She approached the bassinets like she was approaching something sacred.
Her hands hovered.
Then she looked at the nurse uncertainly.
“Can I…?” she asked.
The nurse nodded.
“Wash hands,” the nurse said gently. “Then you can touch. Lightly.”
Belle’s mother washed her hands as if performing a ritual.
Then she returned and placed a trembling finger on one tiny cheek.
The baby scrunched.
A soft sound.
Belle’s mother’s face collapsed.
“Oh my God,” she whispered. “Oh my God.”
Belle’s eyes burned.
Her mother turned to Belle.
“You did this,” her mother whispered, awed and terrified. “How did you do this?”
Belle laughed weakly.
“I don’t know,” she admitted.
Her mother’s eyes filled again.
“I’m proud of you,” her mother whispered.
Belle’s chest cracked.
Her mother leaned down and kissed Belle’s forehead.
Then she kissed Belle’s hair.
Then she straightened up quickly.
Because if she stayed longer, she would break.
“Okay,” her mother whispered again.
Belle nodded.
“Okay,” Belle whispered.
Belle’s father entered next.
He stepped into the room like he was stepping into a place where his voice didn’t belong.
He wore the same shirt as yesterday.
Still pressed.
Still neat.
As if fabric could keep him composed.
Belle’s father looked at Belle first.
His eyes sharpened.
“You okay?” he asked.
Belle nodded.
“Okay,” she whispered.
Her father exhaled.
Then he looked at the bassinets.
Two.
His gaze stayed there for a long moment.
His jaw tightened.
Belle could see it–
the way his brain was struggling to fit this into his old understanding.
He moved closer slowly.
He stared.
His lips parted.
No words came.
Belle’s throat tightened.
“Dad,” Belle whispered.
Her father flinched slightly.
He turned.
His eyes were wet.
He blinked hard.
Then he cleared his throat.
“Okay,” he said.
But it came out rough.
Not calm.
A crack.
Belle’s eyes filled.
The nurse spoke gently.
“Do you want to hold?”
Belle’s father froze.
Hold.
He looked at the nurse.
He looked at Belle.
He looked at the babies.
His hands lifted slightly.
Then dropped.
“I… I scare,” he admitted quietly.
Belle’s throat closed.
The nurse smiled gently.
“It’s okay,” the nurse said. “We teach.”
Belle’s father swallowed.
He nodded once.
Okay.
The nurse guided him.
Arms.
Elbow support.
Hands under head.
Belle watched her father take the baby boy.
Awkward.
Stiff.
Like a man holding a fragile object he had never been trained for.
Then the baby settled.
A tiny sigh.
And Belle’s father’s face shifted.
His eyes softened.
His mouth trembled.
He stared down.
He didn’t say anything.
He just breathed.
Belle’s chest cracked.
Finally, her father whispered,
“Okay… okay.”
Two okays.
A blessing and a surrender.
His chin trembled.
He blinked hard.
Then he looked up at Belle.
His voice was thick.
“Don’t disappear,” he said.
Belle’s throat closed.
“I won’t,” she whispered.
Her father nodded.
“Okay,” he murmured.
Then he handed the baby back carefully.
As if returning something sacred.
He placed a hand briefly on Belle’s shoulder.
A grounding pressure.
Then he stepped back.
Because this was all he could afford without breaking.
Aleem’s parents came next.
Mak entered first.
Mak’s face was tight.
Controlled.
She had done this before in her imagination.
She had rehearsed being practical.
What Mak had not rehearsed was the moment she saw them.
Two tiny lives.
Two breaths.
Two proofs.
Mak stopped.
Her lips parted.
Her eyes widened.
Then her face crumpled.
Not dramatically.
Fast.
Like a wall collapsing.
“Aiyo,” Mak whispered.
Her voice broke.
Then she immediately got angry at herself.
“Why like this,” Mak muttered, wiping her eyes aggressively. “Why I cry.”
Aleem’s mouth twitched.
“Mak,” Aleem said softly.
Mak glared at him.
“Don’t look at me,” Mak snapped. “You also cry yesterday.”
Aleem blinked.
“I did not–”
Mak pointed.
“Don’t lie,” Mak snapped.
Belle laughed weakly.
Mak approached the bassinets.
She stared.
Her hand hovered.
Then she touched one tiny hand.
The baby’s fingers curled reflexively.
Mak froze.
Her breath hitched.
“Oh,” Mak whispered.
The word was small.
But it contained everything.
Mak turned to Belle.
Her eyes were wet.
“Belle,” Mak said, voice rough. “You okay?”
Belle nodded.
“Okay,” Belle whispered.
Mak’s jaw tightened.
“Good,” Mak muttered, then added quickly, “You must eat. You must rest. You must not act strong.”
Belle smiled.
“Yes, Mak,” Belle whispered.
Mak nodded sharply.
Ayah entered behind Mak.
Ayah’s expression softened immediately.
He looked at the babies.
His eyes shimmered.
“Alhamdulillah,” Ayah whispered.
He stepped closer.
He didn’t take over.
He didn’t lecture.
He simply placed a hand over his heart.
Then he looked at Belle.
“Thank you,” Ayah said gently. “For trusting us. For being part of this.”
Belle’s throat tightened.
Ayah’s voice was warm.
“You did very well,” he added.
Belle’s eyes burned.
“Thank you, Ayah,” Belle whispered.
Mak sniffed.
“Okay lah,” Mak muttered, wiping her face again. “Now… names.”
Names.
The word hit the room like a new task.
A new category of fear.
Because names were never just names.
Names were identity.
Belonging.
A flag in the ground.
And Belle could feel it–
both sides wanting to be seen.
They had discussed names before.
In theory.
Quiet nights.
A notebook.
Aleem listing meanings.
Belle listing sounds that felt gentle.
They had laughed over how hard it was to find names that didn’t sound like someone’s uncle.
They had agreed on something important:
They wanted the names to be bridges.
Not compromises.
Bridges.
A name that could hold Islam with dignity,
and hold Belle’s Chinese lineage without erasing it.
Now, with two babies breathing beside them,
it felt heavier.
More real.
Mak looked at Aleem.
“What you name?” Mak demanded.
Aleem blinked.
“Mak,” Aleem said carefully, “we’re still deciding.”
Mak narrowed her eyes.
“Still deciding?” Mak repeated. “Baby already out.”
Aleem’s mouth twitched.
“Yes,” he replied. “That’s why we decide properly.”
Properly.
Mak’s face softened slightly.
Then she huffed.
“Okay,” Mak muttered, as if annoyed at the logic.
Belle’s mother, outside the room earlier, peeked back in briefly–
only because she forgot her phone.
Mak noticed.
Mak waved awkwardly.
“Eh,” Mak called. “Come. Names.”
Belle’s mother froze.
Names.
She hesitated.
Then she entered.
Belle’s father remained outside.
He needed air.
Belle’s mother stood near the foot of the bed.
Her voice was soft.
“We… we don’t want to interfere,” her mother said quickly.
Mak waved.
“Interfere what,” Mak muttered. “We talk only. They decide.”
Belle’s mother blinked.
Mak looked at Aleem.
“They decide,” Mak repeated, more firmly.
Aleem’s jaw loosened slightly.
He nodded.
“Yes,” Aleem said. “We decide.”
Mak sniffed.
“Okay,” Mak muttered again.
Ayah smiled gently.
“Names are amanah,” Ayah said softly. “But it should be chosen with calm.”
Belle inhaled.
Calm.
Yes.
Aleem turned to Belle.
“You want to share the options?” he asked.
Belle swallowed.
She nodded.
“We thought… we could do a double name,” Belle whispered. “One that honours Islam. One that honours my Chinese family.”
Mak’s eyes widened.
“Can meh?” Mak asked.
Aleem nodded.
“Can,” Aleem said. “Plenty of people do. It’s common.”
Mak sniffed.
“Okay,” Mak said, slightly impressed.
Belle’s mother’s eyes filled.
“You would do that?” her mother whispered.
Belle nodded.
“Yes,” Belle whispered. “I don’t want them to lose… us.”
Her mother’s throat moved.
She nodded.
“Okay,” her mother whispered.
Mak glanced at Belle.
Mak’s voice was brusque.
“You also must not lose us,” Mak muttered.
Belle’s chest tightened.
“I won’t,” Belle whispered.
Ayah’s smile softened.
“That is the point,” Ayah murmured. “No one is erased.”
Aleem opened his phone.
Not scrolling.
He had a note.
A list.
Of course he did.
He looked at Belle.
“We had a few,” Aleem said quietly.
Belle nodded.
“For the boy… we liked ‘Adam’,” Belle said softly.
Mak nodded.
“Adam good,” Mak said.
Ayah smiled.
“Beautiful name,” Ayah agreed.
Belle continued,
“And for the Chinese name… my dad once mentioned ‘Wei’,” Belle whispered. “伟. It means… great. Strong.”
Belle’s mother inhaled sharply.
“My father said that?” she whispered.
Belle nodded.
“He said it quietly,” Belle admitted. “He didn’t want to push. But… he said maybe one day, our child can carry something from him.”
Mak’s face softened.
“Wai?” Mak repeated, testing the sound.
Belle smiled weakly.
“Wei,” Belle corrected gently.
Mak frowned.
“Wei,” Mak repeated again.
Better.
Aleem nodded.
“Adam Wei,” Aleem said slowly.
He looked at Belle.
Belle’s throat tightened.
It sounded… possible.
A bridge.
Mak blinked.
“Adam Wei Siddique?” Mak asked.
Aleem blinked.
“Mak, we haven’t–”
Mak waved.
“Just imagining,” Mak muttered.
Ayah chuckled softly.
Mak glared at him.
“Don’t laugh,” Mak snapped.
Ayah smiled.
“Okay,” Ayah said gently.
Mak rolled her eyes.
Then Mak looked at the second bassinet.
“And girl?” Mak demanded.
Belle’s breath hitched.
Girl.
Two lives.
Two bridges.
Belle swallowed.
“For the girl… Aleem liked ‘Amina’,” Belle whispered.
Aleem’s mouth twitched.
“It means trustworthy,” Aleem added softly.
Mak nodded.
“Amina good,” Mak said.
Belle continued,
“And… my mum always liked ‘Xin’,” Belle whispered, voice trembling. “心. Heart.”
Belle’s mother’s eyes filled instantly.
Belle’s throat tightened.
“I wanted… something that says… she has a heart that belongs to both sides,” Belle whispered.
Mak blinked.
“Sin?” Mak asked.
Belle laughed weakly.
“Xin,” Belle corrected gently. “Like… sheen.”
Mak frowned.
“Xin,” Mak tried.
Ayah smiled.
“Xin,” Ayah repeated, smoother.
Mak glared.
“Of course you can say,” Mak muttered.
Ayah chuckled.
Aleem looked at Belle.
“Amina Xin,” Aleem said slowly.
Belle’s eyes burned.
It landed softly.
Not forced.
Not awkward.
A bridge.
Belle’s mother covered her mouth.
Her shoulders shook.
“Heart,” Belle’s mother whispered. “You chose heart.”
Belle swallowed.
“Yes,” Belle whispered.
Mak sniffed.
“Okay,” Mak muttered, wiping her eyes again. “Good. Heart good.”
Ayah’s gaze softened.
“MashaAllah,” Ayah whispered.
Mak glared reflexively.
“Don’t make me cry again,” Mak muttered.
Aleem’s mouth twitched.
He looked at Belle.
“We don’t have to decide today,” Aleem said softly. “We can sit with it.”
Belle’s throat tightened.
“But… it feels right,” Belle whispered.
Aleem’s eyes softened.
“Yes,” he murmured. “It feels right.”
Mak leaned forward.
“You confirm,” Mak ordered. “You two decide. Then you tell.”
Belle nodded.
“Okay,” Belle whispered.
Aleem nodded.
“Okay,” he replied.
Belle’s mother wiped her face.
“Thank you,” her mother whispered to Aleem.
Aleem blinked.
“For what?”
Belle’s mother’s voice cracked.
“For not erasing,” she whispered. “For… for making space.”
Aleem’s throat tightened.
He shook his head.
“It’s not a favour,” he said quietly. “It’s proper.”
Proper.
Belle’s chest cracked.
Mak sniffed.
“Yes,” Mak muttered. “Proper.”
Ayah smiled.
“Alhamdulillah,” Ayah whispered.
Later, when the visiting window ended, the room quieted again.
Mak and Belle’s mother left reluctantly.
Ayah squeezed Aleem’s shoulder gently.
Belle’s father didn’t come back in.
He needed time.
But he sent a message to Belle’s phone.
One line.
Okay. Rest. Tell me the names.
Belle’s eyes burned.
Aleem sat beside her.
He looked at the babies.
Two tiny faces.
Two breaths.
He whispered,
“Alhamdulillah.”
Belle’s throat tightened.
She stared at the bassinets.
She whispered,
“Adam Wei… Amina Xin.”
Aleem looked at her.
His eyes softened.
“Okay?” he asked.
Belle exhaled.
“Okay,” she whispered.
Names.
Not a flag.
Not a battle.
A bridge.
A way of saying:
We are family now.
All of us.
Properly.
Okay.