Chapter 17 - The One Who Stayed

Chapter 17: The One Who Stayed

It started with a message she almost didn’t send.

Sorry if I seemed distant today. Didn’t sleep well last night.

She’d typed it late, after a long day of pushing herself through tutorials with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

She didn’t expect much. Just needed to say something.

He replied within minutes.

You okay? Want to talk or want space? Either’s okay.

That was all it took.

They didn’t talk on the phone.
They didn’t meet up.
They just… texted.

For hours.

She told him about the heaviness she couldn’t name — how she sometimes felt like the weight of “being okay” was a mask she wore for everyone else.

How she worried about being too sensitive. Too thoughtful. Too much of everything that wasn’t practical.

He didn’t try to fix it.

He just said:

You don’t have to be okay to be loved.

And she cried. Quietly. In her room. With her curtains drawn and lights off.

Not because she was sad. But because for once, someone didn’t ask her to shrink.

A few days later, they sat under a tree near the NTU hive building, watching clouds shift between classes. The breeze was light. Their shoulders brushed.

She turned to him.

“Thank you,” she said.

He looked confused. “For what?”

“For not asking me to be less.”

He didn’t answer. Just reached into his bag and handed her a folded piece of paper.

She opened it.

Inside was a handwritten list. Ten lines.

Things I Love About Isabelle

1. You remember things others forget.
2. You care so deeply, even when it hurts.
3. You let people feel safe.
4. You say more with silence than most do with speeches.
5. You notice when someone’s pretending to be okay.
6. You make instant noodles taste like a five-star meal.
7. You write in blue ink and apologize when you cross things out.
8. You’re patient with the things that scare you.
9. You ask good questions.
10. You stayed, even when it would’ve been easier to walk away.

Her hand trembled slightly.

She folded the note back carefully, eyes wet but steady.

“I’ve never had someone write something like this for me,” she whispered.

“You’ve probably never had someone who watched you this closely,” he replied, quiet but certain.

That night, she stared at the note on her desk for a long time.

And she wrote in her journal:

I don’t know if this is forever. But I know it’s real.
And maybe, for now, that’s all love needs to be.