Chapter 7 - The Beginning

Chapter 7: The Beginning

Aleem vividly remembered his first days at AMD. A fresh start, a new chapter—exactly what he needed after years of being emotionally trapped by past failures. He’d spent the last eight years single, nursing the wounds from relationships that had turned bitter, leaving him doubting his own worth, and wary of love.

For the first few months at AMD, Aleem heard whispers about a colleague named Shei Er—a quiet girl who mostly worked remotely, someone the team barely saw. It wasn’t until one ordinary Friday, during a casual team lunch, that he finally saw her in person.

She was already at the table, sitting between Pei Ying and Janice, her eyes cast downward, speaking softly. Aleem glanced discreetly, curiosity piqued by the mysterious colleague whom everyone described as reserved and introverted.

“Hey, Aleem,” Janice called cheerfully, noticing him standing awkwardly by the table. “Come, join us!”

Aleem took the empty seat opposite Shei Er, briefly exchanging a polite smile with her. He introduced himself casually, but she simply nodded shyly in response.

As the group chatted loudly, Aleem quietly observed her. She barely spoke at first, content to listen to others. Yet, when the topic shifted to something technical—something she clearly felt comfortable discussing—her face suddenly lit up. Her voice, quiet at first, grew confident, passionate, vibrant. Aleem found himself leaning forward, suddenly fascinated.

After lunch, as they walked back to the office, he found himself beside Janice. Curiosity got the better of him. “Hey, Janice, is Shei Er always this quiet?”

Janice laughed lightly. “Oh, you’ve noticed. She’s shy at first, but once you get her talking, she never stops.”

Aleem smiled to himself, intrigued.

Over the weeks that followed, he began seeking more conversations with her, usually under the guise of work. Slowly, gently, he chipped away at her quiet exterior. Their interactions became less formal, warmer, even playful. Their short chats extended into late-night texts, conversations about life, movies, and eventually, personal struggles.

One evening, during overtime, Aleem found himself lingering longer than necessary, deliberately hoping to catch a moment alone with her. When he found her in the pantry, quietly making tea, he asked gently, “Working late again, Xue Er?”

She turned, surprised by his casual use of her Chinese name, a warm smile tugging gently at her lips. “Seems like you’re always here late too, Aleem.”

He shrugged lightly. “Guess I like the quiet hours.”

She chuckled softly. “Me too.”

From that evening, their interactions deepened, blossoming into a genuine friendship. Yet, Aleem remained cautious. Memories of previous heartbreak lingered bitterly—his past relationships with Malay girls always seemed to crumble painfully. He’d grown fearful, mistrustful of his own judgment. Maybe, he’d convinced himself, love just wasn’t for him.

As weeks turned into months, however, something unexpected happened. Aleem began noticing a subtle yet undeniable shift within himself. Whenever Shei Er entered a room, his heart quickened. Her shy smiles made his day brighter. Even mundane conversations with her felt meaningful, precious. He found himself craving her company, wishing their interactions lasted longer.

But fear held him back.

He knew she’d recently recovered from her own breakup—an emotional wound she hadn’t entirely hidden. Their shared vulnerability felt comforting yet fragile. If he acted too soon or carelessly, he might ruin everything.

Late one night, alone in his room, Aleem stared at his phone screen, rereading their messages, torn between his growing feelings and lingering self-doubt.

“Not again,” he murmured to himself bitterly. “Don’t ruin another friendship.”

Still, he couldn’t ignore the quiet certainty forming in his heart. It wasn’t impulsive or reckless—this affection had grown gently, patiently, steadily.

But Aleem knew he had to tread carefully. He’d suffered too deeply before, convinced he was the problem, always falling short, always feeling inadequate. He couldn’t risk causing that same pain—to himself or to her.

Yet something about Shei Er gave him courage. Her gentleness, her sincerity, her subtle strength—it resonated deeply within him. Unlike before, this wasn’t blind affection. He saw clearly who she was, faults and all, and it only deepened his feelings.

Months later, on a quiet evening, Aleem found himself walking her home after a team dinner. Their conversation drifted comfortably, touching lightly on past relationships.

“Honestly,” Aleem admitted softly, eyes downcast, voice vulnerable. “I was hurt badly before. Multiple times. After that, I doubted everything about myself. I thought I’d never open up again.”

Shei Er’s eyes softened gently, sensing the quiet pain behind his admission. “I understand. My last relationship left me feeling broken too. I felt… unwanted.”

He paused, gathering courage. “You’re not unwanted, Xue Er. Far from it.”

She smiled shyly, cheeks flushed, eyes brightening. “Neither are you, Aleem.”

Something gentle sparked between them that evening—a subtle, unspoken promise. Yet Aleem held back again, cautious, patient, still fearful of moving too fast.

It was later, alone in bed, that he finally acknowledged his feelings fully.

“I like her,” he whispered quietly, heart trembling with gentle certainty. “More than I thought I could again.”

But he resolved firmly, speaking quietly to himself:

“This time, don’t rush. Take it slow. If it’s meant to be, it’ll find a way.”

And so, Aleem chose patience—his quiet affection growing deeper each day. He would approach her gently, respectfully, never forcing feelings or rushing things. He would support her, protect her heart, even if silently, from afar. If she ever reciprocated, it would be because she truly felt the same, not from pressure or impulse.

For now, friendship was enough.

Because for the first time in years, Aleem felt hopeful. His painful past no longer defined him. Perhaps, with patience and sincerity, something beautiful could grow—slowly, quietly, genuinely.

“One step at a time,” he reminded himself softly, smiling gently, finally at peace.