Chapter 15 - The Way She Knew
Chapter 15: The Way She Knew
Isabelle always believed in subtle things.
Subtle feelings. Subtle beginnings. Subtle love.
It wasn’t that she was afraid of intensity — she just didn’t see the point of chasing something that didn’t feel calm at its core.
Her relationship had started in the badminton class, sure — a few glances, some shared laughter, then a quiet rhythm of walks and texts. But it wasn’t until now, almost a year later, that she realized just how deeply he’d settled into her life.
They were at a small kopi stall one evening, sitting across from each other. He was scrolling his phone. She was sipping teh-C kosong, reading a manga he’d loaned her weeks ago and gently teased her for never starting.
A couple passed by — loud, laughing, playful in their chaos.
He watched them. Then turned to her.
“Do you ever wish we were more like that?”
She looked up, surprised. “No. Do you?”
He shook his head. “Not at all. I just wonder if it’s strange that we don’t… burn brighter.”
Isabelle thought for a moment.
Then said, “I don’t want to burn. I want to grow.”
And he nodded — as if that answered something he hadn’t even known he was asking.
They rarely posted about each other.
Didn’t exchange dramatic texts.
No grand dates, no anniversary countdowns.
But he remembered how she liked her ramen broth: no menma, half egg, no corn.
And she always brought tissues for his terrible sinuses during late-night supper.
She once handwrote a note and hid it in his pencil case before his exam.
He once stayed up until 3AM helping her prepare slides he didn’t even need to be involved in.
They never said “I love you” yet. Not out loud.
But Isabelle had started saying “take care” a little softer.
He’d started saying “let me know when you get home” with a kind of urgency that didn’t need explaining.
One day, while they were walking back from NTU’s canteen after dinner, he paused mid-step and said, “I told my sister about you.”
She blinked. “Oh?”
He smiled. “She said it makes sense. She thinks I needed someone quiet who notices everything.”
Isabelle turned away slightly, her cheeks warm. “You really said that?”
He gently bumped her shoulder. “You’re easy to talk about.”
She didn’t reply.
But when they reached the turn where they usually parted ways, she didn’t let go of his hand right away.
That night, she messaged Crystal.
Do you think love can be quiet and still be real?
Crystal’s reply came fast.
Of course. Love isn’t how loud it arrives. It’s how gently it stays.
Isabelle looked at that message for a long time.
Then smiled — small, soft, but steady.