The First "I Love You"
Chapter 23 – The First “I Love You”
They didn’t plan to say it.
Isabelle thought the first I love you would happen in a perfect moment.
A date.
A sunset.
Some cinematic confession.
But life wasn’t cinematic.
Life was inconvenient.
And love–real love–
usually showed up in the middle of inconvenience, when you weren’t performing.
It showed up when you were tired.
Scared.
And suddenly honest.
It happened two nights after the hawker centre.
Two nights after Crystal’s suspicious eyes.
Two nights after Isabelle admitted she was “talking to someone.”
Isabelle was at home.
In her room.
Lights off.
Her laptop open with work emails she couldn’t concentrate on.
Her phone in her hand.
She stared at Aleem’s name on the screen.
Her fingers hovered over the call button.
She didn’t want to burden him.
She didn’t want to sound dramatic.
But her chest felt tight in a way that didn’t go away.
Her father’s words had been stuck in her head all week.
Do it properly.
Religion will test you.
If you convert, tell me yourself.
Isabelle swallowed.
Then she pressed call.
Aleem picked up on the third ring.
“Hello,” he said.
His voice was calm.
But it carried immediate attention.
Isabelle’s throat tightened.
“Aleem,” she whispered.
A pause.
Then, softer:
“You okay?”
Isabelle closed her eyes.
He always asked that first.
It made her chest ache.
“I’m… not sure,” she admitted.
Aleem didn’t rush.
He only said, steady,
“Tell me.”
Isabelle swallowed.
The words fell out in pieces.
“Crystal asked again,” she said. “Ivan asked too. I told them I’m talking to someone. I didn’t say who, but… they know it’s serious.”
Aleem’s voice was quiet.
“Okay,” he said.
Isabelle’s breath trembled.
“And my dad,” she added. “He keeps… looking at me like he’s waiting for a mistake.”
Aleem’s voice softened.
“Yeah,” he said. “That’s normal.”
Normal.
Isabelle almost laughed.
Nothing felt normal.
Isabelle’s voice cracked.
“I’m scared,” she admitted again.
Aleem didn’t scold.
He didn’t tell her to be strong.
He asked the question that mattered.
“Scared of what?”
Isabelle’s throat tightened.
Of losing ABIX.
Of losing my family.
Of losing my faith.
Of losing you.
All of it.
But the biggest fear was the one she didn’t want to admit.
That this would end.
That she would invest again.
And be discarded again.
Isabelle swallowed.
“I’m scared that…”
Her voice trembled.
“…that we’re building something that will break.”
Silence.
Aleem didn’t respond immediately.
Isabelle’s heart pounded.
Maybe that was too much.
Maybe she shouldn’t have said it.
Then Aleem spoke.
His voice was low.
“It might,” he said.
Isabelle froze.
The honesty hit like cold water.
Aleem continued, steady.
“It might break,” he said. “Because life is not guaranteed. Because family is real. Religion is real. And love doesn’t erase those things.”
Isabelle’s throat tightened.
Tears rose.
Aleem’s voice softened.
“But Belle,” he said, “I’m not building this carelessly.”
Isabelle’s breath trembled.
Aleem continued.
“I’m building it with you,” he said. “Slow. Honest. Proper.”
Proper.
That word again.
Isabelle’s voice was small.
“What if it still breaks?” she whispered.
Aleem’s answer came quiet.
“Then at least it breaks clean,” he said. “Not because we lied. Not because we rushed. Not because we avoided hard conversations.”
Isabelle’s chest tightened.
Clean break.
It sounded painful.
But it also sounded… respectful.
Isabelle swallowed.
“I don’t want it to break,” she whispered.
Aleem exhaled softly.
“Me neither,” he said.
Isabelle’s eyes burned.
She pressed her phone closer to her ear.
The line was quiet.
Aleem’s breathing.
Her breathing.
Two people holding something fragile.
Isabelle whispered,
“Aleem?”
“Yeah?”
Isabelle’s voice cracked.
“Do you ever… regret saying yes?”
The question fell.
Isabelle hated herself for asking.
It sounded insecure.
It sounded needy.
But it was her truth.
There was a pause.
Then Aleem answered.
“No,” he said simply.
Isabelle’s breath caught.
Aleem continued.
“I regret that you’re scared,” he said. “I regret that people hurt you. But I don’t regret choosing you.”
Isabelle’s throat tightened.
The tears spilled.
She covered her mouth with her hand.
Aleem’s voice softened further.
“Belle,” he said quietly.
Isabelle tried to breathe.
“Yeah?” she whispered.
Aleem hesitated.
A small hesitation.
Then he said,
“I’m scared too.”
Isabelle froze.
Aleem–scared.
The idea startled her.
Aleem always seemed steady.
Always seemed controlled.
But of course he was scared.
He was human.
Isabelle’s voice trembled.
“Of what?”
Aleem’s voice went lower.
“Of hurting you,” he admitted. “Of you losing your family because of me. Of you thinking one day that I took something from you.”
Isabelle’s chest tightened.
Aleem continued.
“And… selfishly,” he said, “I’m scared of losing you.”
Isabelle’s breath caught.
The words landed heavy.
Because Aleem didn’t say things like that.
He didn’t dramatize.
So when he admitted fear, it meant the fear was real.
Isabelle whispered,
“You won’t lose me.”
Aleem exhaled softly.
“I hope so,” he said.
Isabelle’s chest tightened.
Hope.
That was what they were living on.
Hope and effort and honesty.
Isabelle’s voice shook.
“Aleem,” she whispered, “I think I…”
She stopped.
Her heart hammered.
The words sat at the edge of her mouth.
Dangerous words.
Words that changed everything.
Aleem didn’t rush her.
He waited.
Isabelle swallowed.
Then she said it.
“I love you.”
Silence.
The sentence hung in the air like a held breath.
Isabelle’s chest tightened painfully.
What if he didn’t say it back?
What if it was too soon?
What if she ruined everything?
Her fingers trembled around the phone.
Then Aleem’s voice came.
Quiet.
Steady.
Not dramatic.
But heavy.
“I love you too,” he said.
Isabelle’s breath left her body.
Her chest softened.
Tears spilled again.
Not panic.
Relief.
Aleem’s voice lowered.
“But Belle,” he added, “I’m saying it with responsibility. I’m not saying it to make you feel safe for one night. I’m saying it because it’s true.”
Isabelle laughed weakly through tears.
“Of course you have to add disclaimer,” she whispered.
Aleem’s lips twitched in his voice.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m just… serious.”
Isabelle wiped her cheeks.
“I know,” she whispered.
Aleem’s voice softened.
“And Belle?”
“Yeah?”
Aleem hesitated.
Then, quietly:
“Thank you,” he said.
Isabelle’s throat tightened.
“For what?” she whispered.
“For choosing me.
For being brave.
For trusting.
For saying it first.
Aleem’s answer was simple.
“For trusting me with your heart,” he said.
Isabelle’s chest ached.
She closed her eyes.
She breathed.
In.
Out.
For the first time in a long time, the words I love you didn’t feel like a trap.
They felt like a home.
Not a guarantee.
Not a magic spell.
A home built carefully.
One honest sentence at a time.
Before the call ended, Aleem said,
“Sleep, Belle.”
Isabelle smiled through tears.
“Okay,” she whispered.
“And Belle?”
“Yeah?”
Aleem’s voice was soft.
“We’ll tell ABIX soon,” he said. “Not tomorrow. But soon. Because you shouldn’t have to hide love.”
Isabelle’s chest tightened.
Hide love.
She swallowed.
“Okay,” she whispered.
When the call ended, Isabelle stared at the ceiling.
Her heart was still bruised.
Her life still complicated.
Religion still a mountain.
Family still a storm.
But in the middle of all that,
Isabelle had said three words.
And Aleem had said them back.
Not like fireworks.
Like a vow.
And Isabelle realized:
Maybe this wasn’t a relationship built to repeat her old pain.
Maybe this was a relationship built to teach her a new kind of love.
One that didn’t rush.
One that didn’t demand.
One that stayed honest even when it was scary.
One that could carry the weight of reality–
and still choose to speak:
I love you.