The Invitations
Chapter 45 – The Invitations
The invitations arrived in a plain brown envelope.
Not romantic.
Not dramatic.
Just paper.
Ink.
Names.
Dates.
But Isabelle held them like they were fragile.
Because this–
this was what all the grief had been orbiting around.
A future that now had a shape.
A day.
A place.
A plan.
An inevitability.
Isabelle sat on her bed with the stack on her lap.
Aleem sat on the floor beside her, back against the bed frame.
He had been quiet all morning.
Not cold.
Just… heavy.
Because this wasn’t only excitement.
This was responsibility.
If they were printing invitations, then they were no longer “seeing how.”
They were doing.
And doing meant more eyes.
More opinions.
More family.
More potential pain.
Isabelle traced the embossed letters with her thumb.
She whispered,
“We’re really doing this.”
Aleem’s voice was low.
“Yes,” he said. “We are.”
She flipped one card over.
The nikah.
The dinner.
The details printed clean and firm, like the universe finally stopped wobbling.
Isabelle exhaled.
Then she smiled weakly.
“ABIX is going to be so dramatic,” she murmured.
Aleem’s lips twitched.
“Crystal will act like she’s the one getting married,” he said.
Isabelle laughed softly.
Not because it was funny.
Because it was relief.
ABIX already knew.
They had known for a long time.
They had held Isabelle through the conversion.
They had watched Aleem learn how to love without pushing.
They had been the quiet witnesses.
So this wasn’t a reveal.
This was an invitation.
A formal one.
A paper version of a promise they had all been carrying in their chests.
They chose a familiar place.
Supper.
The same prata shop ABIX had been going to since university.
The tables were sticky.
The lighting was harsh.
The air smelled like curry and comfort.
No romance.
Just ABIX.
Isabelle arrived first.
Crystal arrived second, already complaining about her week.
Ivan arrived third, quiet as usual, scanning the table like he was doing a security audit.
Aleem arrived last.
And the moment he sat beside Isabelle–
Crystal immediately pointed.
“Okay,” she said slowly, “you two better not tell me you eloped.”
Isabelle’s cheeks warmed.
Aleem pretended to study the menu.
Ivan’s gaze flicked to the envelopes Isabelle was holding.
He didn’t ask yet.
But his face said:
This is either wedding or lawsuit.
Isabelle slid two envelopes onto the table.
One toward Ivan.
One toward Crystal.
Crystal froze.
Her hand hovered above it like it was cursed.
“…Why it look so official?” she whispered.
Isabelle’s voice was soft.
“Open,” she said.
Crystal tore it open immediately.
Ivan opened his with controlled movements.
Then.
Silence.
Real silence.
Crystal’s mouth opened.
No sound.
Ivan’s brows lifted slightly.
Crystal looked up.
Then she screamed.
“WHAT?!”
The entire shop turned.
Uncles eating prata looked up.
A teenager stopped sipping his teh peng.
A baby startled.
Crystal didn’t care.
She slapped the invitation onto the table like it had offended her.
“YOU PRINT ALREADY?!” she hissed.
Isabelle blinked.
Aleem’s shoulders rose in a small, guilty shrug.
Crystal leaned forward, furious.
“HELLO? I THOUGHT I’M PART OF COMMITTEE?!”
Ivan cleared his throat.
He slid his invitation closer like evidence.
He asked, calm,
“Date confirmed?”
Aleem nodded.
“Yes,” he said.
Ivan’s eyes flicked to the line.
He nodded once.
“Fast,” he remarked.
Crystal whipped her head toward Ivan.
“FAST?!” she shrieked. “THIS IS LIGHT SPEED. I DIDN’T EVEN GET TO PICK FONT.”
Isabelle’s lips twitched.
“You would’ve picked something with glitter,” Isabelle murmured.
Crystal slammed her palm.
“AS YOU SHOULD.”
Aleem coughed to hide a laugh.
Isabelle watched Crystal’s outrage carefully.
Because Crystal’s outrage was her love.
Then Crystal’s voice cracked mid-sentence.
“…Wait,” she whispered, eyes shining. “This is real.”
She looked at Isabelle.
Her expression softened.
Not angry now.
Just overwhelmed.
“You’re really… okay?” Crystal asked quietly.
Isabelle swallowed.
She nodded.
“I’m okay,” she whispered. “It was hard. But my parents are trying. Aleem’s parents are kind. We did the meetings. We did it properly.”
Ivan’s gaze sharpened.
“Your dad?” he asked.
Isabelle’s throat tightened.
“He said he’ll be my wali,” she admitted.
Crystal gasped like she was witnessing history.
Ivan’s brows lifted.
“That’s significant,” he said.
Isabelle nodded.
“It is,” she whispered.
Crystal stared at the invitation again.
Then she wiped her cheeks aggressively.
“You two are idiots,” she declared.
Isabelle blinked.
Aleem blinked.
Crystal continued.
“But… I’m proud of you.”
Isabelle’s throat tightened.
Crystal jabbed a finger at Aleem.
“You,” she warned, “don’t make her cry.”
Aleem nodded.
“I won’t,” he said.
Crystal jabbed a finger at Isabelle.
“And you,” she warned, “don’t disappear. You tell us when you’re drowning. I don’t care if you think you’re ‘burden.’ You’re not.”
Isabelle’s eyes burned.
“I won’t,” she whispered.
Ivan folded his invitation neatly.
Then he said, calm,
“Congratulations.”
Isabelle exhaled.
Aleem bowed his head slightly.
“Thank you,” he said.
Crystal sniffed.
“I’m still offended,” she muttered.
Isabelle smiled.
“I know,” she whispered.
Crystal’s eyes filled again.
“But I’m happy,” she admitted.
Isabelle’s throat tightened.
“Me too,” she whispered.
They talked logistics after that.
Because Ivan couldn’t help himself.
He asked about:
Prayer room arrangements.
Halal catering.
Seating plan.
Timeline buffer.
Contingency plans.
Crystal rolled her eyes and declared herself “Creative Director of Emotional Vibes.”
Ivan responded that he would put that in the risk register.
Aleem laughed quietly.
Isabelle laughed too.
For the first time in a long time,
she laughed without fear.
When supper ended, ABIX stood outside the prata shop.
The night air was humid.
Streetlights buzzing.
Cars passing.
Crystal held the invitation like it was a trophy now.
She leaned into Isabelle.
“Okay,” she whispered, “I’m still offended.”
Isabelle smiled.
“I know,” she whispered.
Crystal’s eyes filled.
“But I’m happy,” she repeated, softer this time.
Isabelle’s throat tightened.
“Me too,” she whispered.
Ivan looked at them.
Then he said simply,
“Make it through. Don’t rush the healing just because the date is printed.”
Isabelle nodded.
“We won’t,” she promised.
Aleem’s voice was quiet.
“We go slow,” he said.
Crystal suddenly yelled,
“WAIT. I NEED TO TAKE PHOTO.”
She dragged them together.
Isabelle laughed.
Aleem smiled.
Ivan sighed but stayed.
Crystal held her phone up.
“One, two, three–”
Flash.
ABIX.
Four faces.
Two in love.
All still family.
Later, when Isabelle looked at the photo, she realized:
This was the ending she had hoped for.
Not perfect.
Not painless.
But held.
Loved.
Blessed.
Because ABIX wasn’t a group that stayed unchanged.
ABIX was a group that grew.
Together.