Chapter 16 - A Little Ahead
Chapter 16: A Little Ahead
He was older — not by much, just a couple of years.
But Isabelle noticed it in the little ways.
How he spoke about internships like past stories instead of current stress. How he didn’t panic when his schedule got too full — just adjusted. How he already had opinions on CPF and insurance policies.
She never found it intimidating.
If anything, it felt like walking with someone who had already tested the terrain a little ahead of her. He didn’t drag her forward — he just made her feel safe taking the next step.
Still, there were moments.
Moments where she felt the distance.
Like when they talked about graduation. She still had another semester to go. He’d already been offered a full-time role.
Or when she talked about her fear of being left behind — quietly, gently, late at night over a voice call.
“Sometimes I worry,” she confessed once, “that you’ll move forward faster than I can catch up.”
He was silent for a while.
Then said, “I’m not trying to outrun you, Belle.”
She smiled faintly at the nickname. “I know. But I want to be someone who walks beside you. Not someone you have to slow down for.”
His voice came softer. “Then I’ll just match your pace better.”
They had their first real disagreement over something small — an outing.
He had planned a day trip across the border, and she’d hesitated. A group assignment deadline was looming, and she wasn’t sure she could afford the time.
“Then don’t go,” he had said, offhandedly. “I’ll cancel.”
But the way he said it felt like retreat — not support.
She’d replied too quickly. “You make it sound like I’m the problem.”
Silence. Then both realizing they hadn’t meant to snap.
He messaged her later that night.
I’m sorry. I made it sound like you were ruining something. You weren’t. I just didn’t want to pressure you.
She replied:
And I’m sorry for making it sound like your plan didn’t matter. It did. I wanted to be there.
No dramatics. No “we need to talk” text. Just a learning moment — two people adjusting their lenses to see each other more clearly.
Later that week, they walked together to NTU’s ADM hill during sunset. Just because. Just to be.
“Do you think we’ll still be this close after I graduate?” Isabelle asked, softly.
He looked at her. “I hope we’ll be closer.”
She hesitated. “Even when you’re out there, working full-time, living your life?”
He touched her hand gently, resting it against his knee.
“I didn’t fall for the version of you that’s convenient. I fell for the one that’s real. And I don’t mind waiting through distance, as long as it’s still you I’m waiting for.”
She didn’t say anything.
Just leaned her head lightly against his shoulder.
And that night, as the sun dipped beneath the skyline, Isabelle didn’t think about pace anymore.
Only presence.