The First Family Photo
Chapter 41 – The First Family Photo
Isabelle didn’t know when “Aleem” became a normal word in her house.
Not loved.
Not welcomed with open arms.
But… spoken without sharpness.
That alone felt like progress.
Her mother stopped flinching when his name came up.
Her father stopped sounding like he was chewing glass.
And Isabelle stopped holding her breath every time she mentioned him.
It wasn’t peace.
It was truce.
But truce was how you reached peace.
The first family photo happened because of her grandmother.
Of course.
Grandmothers didn’t wait for emotional readiness.
They waited for schedules.
Her maternal grandmother turned seventy-five.
A big dinner.
Chinese restaurant.
Too many tables.
Too many relatives.
Too many aunties who loved asking questions like they were doing you a favor.
Isabelle’s mother had been anxious all week.
“What will I say?” she whispered to Isabelle in the kitchen.
Isabelle washed vegetables slowly.
“We say the truth,” she whispered.
Her mother’s eyes filled.
“The truth makes them talk,” her mother cried.
Isabelle’s throat tightened.
“I know,” she whispered. “But lying will make it worse.”
Her father entered the kitchen, heard the last line, and grunted.
“Don’t announce,” he muttered. “Just… behave.”
Behave.
Isabelle swallowed a laugh.
Like her religion was a tantrum.
But she nodded.
“Okay,” she whispered.
Then her father said the sentence that made her heart jolt.
“Aleem coming?”
Isabelle froze.
Her mother froze too.
Her father’s gaze was steady.
Not warm.
But practical.
“If he is serious,” her father said, “he should show face.”
Isabelle’s throat tightened.
Show face.
That was not romance language.
That was Chinese family language.
It meant:
If you want to marry in, you don’t hide.
Isabelle swallowed.
“Do you… want him there?” she whispered.
Her father’s mouth tightened.
“I don’t want,” he muttered. “But we can’t pretend he doesn’t exist. Later they find out, they say we hide.”
Isabelle’s chest tightened.
Her mother’s eyes filled.
She whispered,
“Will he… make things worse?”
Isabelle looked at her mother.
“He won’t,” she whispered. “He’s respectful.”
Her father nodded once.
“Tell him,” he said.
Isabelle’s hands trembled as she texted.
Isabelle: My grandma’s birthday dinner. My dad said you should show face… if you’re serious.
The reply came quickly.
Aleem: I’m serious. I’ll come. Tell me what to wear. And what not to do.
Isabelle stared at the last line.
What not to do.
Always.
Respect first.
Isabelle typed:
Isabelle: Collared shirt. Don’t touch me too much. Smile. Eat what you can. And… don’t let Crystal talk to my aunties.
Aleem: 💀 understood.
At the restaurant, Isabelle’s family arrived early.
Her father insisted.
“Better we sit first,” he muttered.
Better they control the narrative.
Isabelle sat beside her mother.
Her mother’s hands trembled.
Her father sat across, posture stiff.
Extended relatives arrived.
Aunties with loud voices.
Uncles with jokes.
Cousins with cameras.
Grandmother in a red blouse, smiling like she owned time.
Isabelle greeted her grandmother.
Hug.
Warm.
Then a cousin whispered loudly,
“Eh Belle, you lost weight ah? Heartbreak?”
Isabelle smiled politely.
Old Isabelle would’ve deflected.
New Isabelle simply said,
“Just busy.”
Then she felt her father’s gaze.
Stay calm.
Behave.
Aleem arrived ten minutes late.
Not disrespect late.
Strategic late.
Late enough to not be part of setup.
Early enough to not disrupt speeches.
When Isabelle saw him walking in, her stomach flipped.
Not romantic.
Nervous.
Because now he wasn’t just Aleem.
He was a statement.
He approached the table.
He didn’t look around like he was assessing territory.
He looked at Isabelle’s father first.
He bowed his head slightly.
“Uncle,” he greeted.
Then he turned to Isabelle’s mother.
“Aunty.”
Then he looked at grandmother.
He smiled.
“Happy birthday, ah ma,” he said politely.
Isabelle froze.
Ah ma.
He used the term naturally.
Not awkward.
Not overfamiliar.
Just respectful.
Her grandmother blinked.
Then her face lit up.
“Aiyoh!” she laughed. “So you are the Aleem!”
The table went still.
Isabelle’s mother’s breath caught.
Isabelle’s father’s jaw tightened.
Aleem smiled politely.
“Yes, ah ma,” he said.
Her grandmother grabbed his arm like she was inspecting a product.
“Handsome,” she declared loudly.
Isabelle’s cheeks heated.
Aleem’s ears reddened slightly.
Grandmother cackled.
“Sit! Sit!” she commanded.
Aleem looked at Isabelle’s father.
Permission.
Her father nodded once.
Aleem sat.
Not beside Isabelle.
Across.
Respect.
Isabelle’s chest tightened with relief.
Then the aunties descended.
Of course.
“Who is this?”
“Boyfriend ah?”
“Working where?”
“From where?”
“Got house already?”
Aleem answered calmly.
Short.
Respectful.
No boasting.
No flirting.
He didn’t touch Isabelle.
He didn’t call her baby.
He didn’t even look at her too long.
He just… showed seriousness.
Isabelle’s father watched.
And slowly, his shoulders lowered by one millimeter.
Then one aunty asked the question like a knife.
“Muslim ah?” she said loudly.
The table quieted.
Isabelle’s stomach dropped.
Her mother stiffened.
Her father’s jaw clenched.
Aleem didn’t flinch.
“Yes, aunty,” he said calmly.
The aunty’s eyes widened.
“Then Belle…?”
Isabelle’s throat tightened.
Before she could speak, her father spoke.
“Eat,” he snapped.
The aunty blinked.
Her father’s tone was sharp.
“Eat first,” he repeated. “Birthday dinner. Not interrogation.”
Silence.
Then grandmother cackled.
“Ya lah!” she scolded, waving her hand. “Eat! Ask later!”
The table relaxed slightly.
Isabelle’s chest loosened.
Her father.
Shielding.
Not approving.
But shielding.
After dinner, it was photo time.
The staff brought out the cake.
Grandmother blew candles.
Everyone clapped.
Then the cousins gathered phones.
“Aiyo, come come come! Family photo!”
Isabelle’s father stiffened.
Isabelle’s mother looked panicked.
Family photo.
And Aleem was now here.
Was he family?
Not yet.
But he was in the room.
Her cousin waved.
“Boyfriend also can join lah!”
Isabelle’s heart slammed.
Her mother’s eyes widened.
Her father’s jaw tightened.
Aleem started to step back automatically.
Respect.
Not assuming.
But then Isabelle’s grandmother spoke.
Loud.
Decisive.
“Why cannot?” she demanded. “He is important to Belle. He stand there.”
Isabelle froze.
Her grandmother pointed.
“Aleem, come. Stand beside Belle.”
Isabelle’s cheeks heated.
Aleem looked at Isabelle’s father.
Permission.
Her father’s eyes narrowed.
Then he exhaled.
And nodded once.
Aleem stepped in.
He stood beside Isabelle.
Not touching.
Just beside.
Isabelle’s heart pounded.
Cameras lifted.
People adjusted.
Someone counted.
“One, two, three!”
Flash.
Isabelle blinked.
In that split second,
she realized:
This might be the first photo where the future appeared.
Not fully accepted.
Not fully blessed.
But visible.
Real.
After the photo, Isabelle’s grandmother grabbed Aleem’s arm again.
“Next time you bring your parents again,” she declared. “We eat together.”
Aleem smiled politely.
“Yes, ah ma,” he said.
Isabelle’s father pretended not to hear.
But he didn’t protest.
That was progress.
On the way home, Isabelle sat in the back seat.
Her mother sat beside her.
Her father drove.
The car was quiet.
Isabelle’s mother whispered finally,
“He was… polite.”
Isabelle’s throat tightened.
“Yes,” she whispered.
Her father grunted.
“Too polite,” he muttered.
Isabelle bit her lip.
Then her father added, voice low,
“At least he knows how to behave.”
Behave.
Again.
Isabelle swallowed a smile.
That was the closest thing to approval she’d heard.
That night, Isabelle received a message from her cousin.
A photo.
The family photo.
And there, in the crowd of faces,
Isabelle saw herself.
Her mother’s tired eyes.
Her father’s stiff posture.
Her grandmother’s bright grin.
And beside Isabelle–
Aleem.
Not hugging.
Not claiming.
Just standing.
Present.
Serious.
Like a promise without words.
Isabelle stared at the photo for a long time.
Then she whispered,
“Alhamdulillah.”
Because the first family photo didn’t mean the war was over.
But it meant something else.
They had let him stand beside her.
In public.
In front of aunties.
In front of cameras.
In front of a grandmother who didn’t care about anyone’s fear.
They had let the future exist.
And that–
that was enough for tonight.