Chapter 27 - The Quiet Between Our Hours

Chapter 27: The Quiet Between Our Hours

Isabelle’s days were full.

Not chaotic — just… stacked.

Back-to-back tuition sessions. Lesson prep. Final semester coursework. Readings she never seemed to finish in one sitting. Group chats that buzzed into the night with exam questions and link-sharing.

Her boyfriend’s days were structured. Predictable.
He’d text her during his commute.
Reply on lunch breaks.
Sometimes call during late evenings, after a full day of meetings and quiet tension from behind a screen most people never saw.

They were both tired. But differently.

And Isabelle had started to feel it — the gap in tempo.

One night, after a long day of tutoring three back-to-back students, she slumped into her desk chair and stared at his message:

Long day. Cybersecurity audit. I’m fried. Want to call later?

She stared at it for a while. She did want to talk. But she also didn’t want to show up with nothing but tired sighs and low battery energy.

Instead, she replied:

You rest first. I’ll be okay.

He didn’t push.

He never did.

They met that weekend — just for lunch. Nothing fancy. Just a tucked-away Korean bistro near Tanjong Pagar. He ordered for both of them without asking, just the way she liked it. She noticed he wore a different watch.

“New?” she asked.

He nodded. “Got it last month. Didn’t want to seem flashy the first time I met your friends.”

She blinked. “You filtered yourself?”

“Not filtered. Just… matched the mood.”

She smiled faintly. “Thank you.”

Later, over bingsu, she finally asked:

“Do you ever feel like I’m not… caught up to your life?”

He looked at her. Calm, but serious.

“No.”

She hesitated. “Because sometimes I do. You’re already there. Career. Salary. Stability. Meanwhile I’m still marking worksheets at midnight wondering if I can afford a Grab ride without guilt.”

He leaned forward slightly, elbows on the table.

“Belle,” he said. “You’re not behind. You’re just on a different path. One with meaning. One that makes you light up in ways I don’t see in anyone else.”

She blinked away the burn in her eyes.

He added, gently, “I don’t love you despite your path. I love you because of it.”

She didn’t respond right away.

But when they stood at the MRT platform later, she slipped her hand into his — not because she needed reassurance, but because she believed him.

That night, in her journal:

Maybe he’s ahead in years and paychecks.
But I’ve never once felt like he looked down on me.
He just looks at me — fully.
And that’s enough for now.