The Day She Doesn't Feel Heavy
Chapter 9 – The Day She Doesn’t Feel Heavy
The next morning, Isabelle woke up to a strange sensation.
Lightness.
Not happiness.
Not joy.
Just… the absence of a weight she’d gotten used to carrying.
For a few seconds, she lay still under the blanket, listening.
The hotel room was quiet except for Crystal’s soft snoring and Ivan’s occasional irritated shifting.
Isabelle stared at the ceiling.
She waited for the ache to arrive.
She waited for the memory.
She waited for the familiar sinking.
It didn’t come.
Not immediately.
Isabelle’s breath slowed.
A cautious thought surfaced:
Is this what normal feels like?
The idea frightened her.
Because if she could feel normal again, that meant the world could move on.
And moving on felt like betrayal.
Then, from the other bed, Ivan’s voice broke the silence.
“Crystal,” he said, thick with sleep. “Stop drooling.”
Crystal made a sound like an offended cat.
“I’m not drooling,” she mumbled.
Ivan sighed. “You are literally drooling.”
Crystal turned over. “It’s because Hokkaido air is dry.”
Ivan muttered, “That’s not how drool works.”
Isabelle’s mouth twitched.
A laugh bubbled up–small, unwilling.
It escaped.
Crystal’s eyes snapped open.
She gasped dramatically. “BELLE LAUGHED.”
Isabelle’s cheeks warmed. “I didn’t.”
“You did,” Crystal insisted, pointing at her like she’d caught evidence. “You’re healed.”
Ivan groaned. “Stop saying healed.”
Crystal ignored him and flung the blanket off. “Okay. Otaru today. Get up.”
Isabelle sat up.
The room spun slightly.
But her chest didn’t tighten.
Lightness stayed.
A cautious, fragile lightness.
They reached Otaru by late morning.
The town looked like it had been designed for romance.
Snow piled on rooftops.
Street lamps stood like soft sentinels.
The canal glimmered under pale winter light, framed by old brick warehouses.
Crystal squealed so many times Isabelle lost count.
“This is literally romance,” Crystal declared, holding up her phone. “Belle. You must take photos. For your healing.”
Ivan muttered, “This is not therapy.”
Crystal whipped around. “It is if you have imagination.”
Aleem walked behind them, hands tucked in his pockets, scarf wrapped neatly around his neck.
He looked… good.
Isabelle’s mind registered the thought before she could stop it.
Good.
Not in a romantic way.
In a why have I never noticed this properly way.
Aleem’s profile was calm and defined under the winter light.
His eyelashes caught snowflakes when they drifted down.
His expression was neutral, but his eyes held that quiet watchfulness that had become familiar.
Isabelle looked away quickly.
Boundaries.
Friendship.
Still.
But the thought stayed.
He looks… different in winter.
Isabelle felt her cheeks warm beneath the cold.
She adjusted her scarf to hide it.
Crystal insisted on group photos.
Of course.
They posed by the canal.
Crystal made heart signs.
Ivan refused until Crystal threatened to post an unflattering candid of him.
Aleem stood beside Isabelle.
Close.
Not touching.
But close enough that Isabelle could feel the warmth of his jacket when the wind blew.
“Smile,” Crystal ordered.
Isabelle tried.
Her smile was small.
Real.
Crystal squealed anyway.
Then she zoomed in on Isabelle’s face.
“YOU’RE GLOWING,” Crystal whispered loudly.
Isabelle groaned. “Stop.”
Crystal grinned. “I will never stop.”
Ivan muttered, “Please stop.”
Crystal ignored him.
They continued walking along the canal.
The path was slippery.
Isabelle stepped carefully.
Her boots crunched on snow.
Her breath came out in white clouds.
She felt… present.
For the first time in months, she wasn’t watching herself from a distance.
She was in her own body.
She was here.
The realization made her chest tighten–not with grief, but with something else.
Relief.
They stopped at a small glass workshop.
Crystal ran inside, fascinated by every shiny object.
Ivan followed, reluctantly interested.
“Just five minutes,” Ivan warned.
Crystal scoffed. “Five minutes is for weak people.”
They disappeared into the shop.
Isabelle lingered outside with Aleem.
Snow drifted down gently, landing on Isabelle’s scarf.
The street was quieter here.
Tourists passed, laughing softly.
Isabelle watched them.
Then she realized Aleem wasn’t looking at the street.
He was looking at her.
Not intensely.
Just… checking.
Like he always did.
Isabelle’s throat tightened.
“Aleem,” she said softly.
He blinked, as if surprised he’d been caught.
“Yeah?”
Isabelle hesitated.
Then she said the truth.
“I feel… okay today.”
Aleem’s gaze softened.
“Yeah?” he asked.
Isabelle nodded.
“It’s weird,” she admitted. “I keep waiting for the sadness to hit. But it’s not… heavy.”
Aleem watched her carefully.
Then he nodded.
“That’s good,” he said.
Isabelle’s voice went quieter.
“But then I feel guilty,” she confessed.
Aleem’s brows drew together.
“Why?”
Isabelle stared at the snow.
“Because… if I can feel okay, doesn’t it mean… it wasn’t real?”
The words came out broken.
Aleem’s gaze held hers.
His voice was low.
“No,” he said firmly. “It was real. It was just… not forever.”
Isabelle’s breath caught.
Not forever.
The phrase hurt.
And yet it felt honest.
Aleem continued, gentler now.
“You feeling okay today doesn’t erase what you felt before. It just means you’re healing.”
Isabelle stared at him.
Healing.
He used the word without making it dramatic.
Without making it a slogan.
He said it like it was a natural process.
Isabelle swallowed.
“I didn’t know I could,” she whispered.
Aleem’s eyes softened.
“You can,” he said simply.
The words landed deep.
Because Aleem always spoke like he believed in her survival.
Even when she didn’t.
They started walking again.
Just the two of them.
Crystal and Ivan were still inside the shop.
Isabelle didn’t mind.
The silence between her and Aleem wasn’t awkward.
It was… comfortable.
They passed a small bridge.
The canal below was frozen at the edges.
Snow clung to the railings.
Isabelle leaned on the bridge and looked down.
Her breath came out in soft puffs.
Aleem stood beside her.
They stayed there for a moment.
Then Isabelle’s boot slipped.
It was small.
Just a tiny loss of traction.
But Isabelle’s body reacted like it was falling off a cliff.
Her heart jumped.
Her arms flailed.
Her breath caught.
And then–
Warm fingers closed around her forearm.
Steady.
Firm.
Aleem.
He didn’t yank her.
He didn’t pull her into him.
He simply held her until her feet found the ground again.
Isabelle froze.
The contact wasn’t intimate.
Not like that.
But it was the first time in a while someone had touched her and it didn’t make her flinch.
It didn’t make her tense.
It didn’t make her feel like she owed something.
It made her feel… safe.
Aleem released her immediately.
Too quickly.
Like he’d remembered the boundaries the moment his hand had landed.
“You okay?” he asked.
Isabelle stared at her own arm.
The spot where his fingers had been felt warm even through her jacket.
Isabelle swallowed.
“Yeah,” she whispered.
Aleem nodded.
“Careful,” he said.
Isabelle looked up at him.
He wasn’t flustered.
He wasn’t smug.
He wasn’t trying to be heroic.
He just looked… calm.
As if catching her was as natural as breathing.
Isabelle’s chest tightened.
A small thought landed in her mind, soft but undeniable:
He’s reliable.
Not in the way people say in dating profiles.
Not in the boring way.
Reliable like a handrail.
Like a steady floor.
Like something you don’t notice until you almost fall.
Isabelle looked away quickly.
Boundaries.
Friendship.
Still.
But her heart didn’t listen.
Her heart remembered the warmth.
Crystal and Ivan returned, carrying bags.
Crystal’s cheeks were flushed with excitement.
“Belle!” Crystal said. “Look at this glass pendant. It’s so aesthetic.”
Ivan muttered, “We’re not buying more things.”
Crystal rolled her eyes. “We are.”
Isabelle smiled.
Not forced.
Not painful.
Just… there.
The four of them continued through Otaru.
They ate pastries.
They drank hot chocolate.
Crystal insisted on more photos.
Ivan complained.
Aleem stayed quiet.
Isabelle found herself laughing more than she expected.
And every time she laughed, she waited for guilt.
Sometimes it came.
Sometimes it didn’t.
But today–today–
the guilt was quieter.
Today, her chest didn’t feel like rubble.
It felt… open.
Air moving through it.
Like something had been cleared.
That night, back in the hotel, Isabelle lay in bed and stared at the ceiling.
The day replayed in her mind.
The canal.
The snow.
The warmth of hot chocolate.
Crystal’s laughter.
Ivan’s complaining.
And then–
Aleem’s hand on her forearm.
The steadiness.
The immediate release.
The respect.
Isabelle pressed her fingers lightly against her own sleeve where he had touched.
It was ridiculous.
She knew.
But her heart did it anyway.
Like it was collecting proof.
Proof of safety.
Proof that she could be caught without being claimed.
Isabelle closed her eyes.
For the first time in months, she fell asleep with a thought that wasn’t grief.
It wasn’t hope.
Not yet.
It was something quieter.
A realization that arrived like snow:
Maybe I don’t have to carry everything alone anymore.