Chapter 9 - The Mirror Talks Back

Chapter 9: The Mirror Talks Back

It had been almost a year since Universal Studios.

Aleem no longer flinched at love songs in public places. He could see couples on the MRT without feeling like he was watching from the outside of a glass window.

But some days, the silence still crept in.

Not loneliness — doubt.

He stared at himself in the mirror one morning, toothbrush idle in hand.

“You’re not unlovable,” he told his reflection.

The words sounded ridiculous. But he said them anyway.

“Just… a little lost.”

He didn’t recognize the version of himself that once used to plan everything down to the minute. The guy who used to wake up excited to message someone first. The guy who believed, foolishly, that if you just did enough — were enough — someone would stay.

He missed that guy.
But maybe he also needed to let him go.

One weekend, the ABIX group planned a casual picnic at East Coast Park.

Ivan brought fruits. Isabelle packed homemade sandwiches. Crystal brought a whole cooler bag of random drinks — some expired. Aleem brought… himself. And that was enough.

As they sat in a loose circle watching cyclists zoom by and toddlers wobble on scooters, the topic of love came up — as it always did, eventually.

Isabelle tilted her head. “Do you think some people are just not meant to find love young?”

Ivan answered calmly, “Maybe it’s not about age. Maybe it’s about readiness.”

Crystal, sipping her mango juice, added, “And sometimes, it’s about stopping the chase long enough for love to actually catch you.”

They all looked, subtly, at Aleem.

He smirked. “Why am I suddenly the case study?”

Crystal grinned. “Because you’ve lived through enough plot twists to be a whole K-drama.”

He shook his head, laughing. “I’m just in the filler arc.”

But later, when the sun began to set and everyone had gone home, Aleem lingered behind — sitting at the seawall, watching the waves curl and break like slow exhalations.

What if this was enough?
What if healing didn’t come with fanfare — just quiet nights where the pain showed up a little later than it used to?

He took out his phone. Opened his notes app.

I think I’m starting to like the sound of my own silence again.
Not because I’ve given up. But because I’m no longer begging someone to fill it.

And for the first time in a long while, Aleem closed his eyes — and didn’t feel the ache.

Just the breeze.
The waves.
The echo of his own voice, finally beginning to believe himself again.