Chapter 18 - Hana, Again

Chapter 18: Hana, Again

Kuala Lumpur was loud in all the ways Aleem didn’t expect.

The kind of loud that came not just from honking cars or market chatter, but from the sheer aliveness of it all—skyscrapers stretching skyward, laughter spilling out of cafés, music drifting from balconies. It was a city that didn’t stop to check if you were keeping up.

Aleem wasn’t here for leisure. He had been sent for a three-day product demo with a client—one of those whirlwind trips where you barely see the city you’re in. But when the last meeting wrapped up earlier than expected, and the sun dipped low behind the Twin Towers, Aleem felt something stir.

He opened his messages.

Aleem: I’m in KL for work.
Aleem: No pressure. But if you’re free… maybe coffee?

He didn’t expect a reply.

He definitely didn’t expect the one he got five minutes later.

Hana: Jalan Imbi. There’s a place with mismatched chairs and cinnamon toast. Come if you want.

A Familiar Stranger

She looked different.

Older—not in years, but in aura. Like life had carved her in new ways. Her hair was shorter, swept behind her ears. Her eyes still held the same steadiness, but her smile had a slower burn now—more real, less eager.

They greeted each other like old friends pretending they’d only been apart for a few weeks.

Coffee arrived—black for him, oat milk for her.

They talked.

Of small things first. How fast 2025 was moving. How her art residency in Penang had ended with a short gallery showing. How she’d been freelancing design work, mostly in cafes like this, hopping from space to space with nothing but a sketchbook and Wi-Fi.

Aleem shared about his job. The long hours. The moments of self-doubt. The usual rhythm.

They both smiled more than they spoke.

Until Hana set her cup down, carefully, as if bracing herself.

“Aleem,” she said, “I’m leaving for Tokyo next month.”

He blinked. “Oh?”

“An offer came in from a small art house. It’s… a big opportunity.”

“That’s great.”

“It is.” She paused. “And I wanted you to know, because if you were still holding on to something, I didn’t want to leave without saying this face to face.”

He didn’t respond immediately.

Because how do you explain the way someone lived in the quiet corners of your thoughts?

Not a storm. Not a fire.

Just… a room with the light always on.

The Almost-Love

Aleem smiled, finally.

“I think,” he said, “I was never sure what we were.”

“Me neither.”

“But I liked what we could have been.”

“Same.”

There was no bitterness. No regret. Only a quiet mourning of what was tender, but untimed.

She reached across the table and held his hand. Just for a second.

“You’re a good man, Aleem.”

“You’re the reason I started looking up more,” he said. “At the sky. At people. At… possibilities.”

“Then we were worth something,” Hana whispered.

A Walk Without a Future

They took a short walk through Bukit Bintang, weaving through the crowd like two people who had shared something weightless and fragile.

No promises.

No “let’s keep in touch.”

Just a warm goodbye in the middle of a city that never blinked.

As Hana disappeared into the subway station, Aleem stood there for a while, watching the way the escalator swallowed her into the earth.

Then he turned.

And walked the other way.

Back in Singapore

That night, he messaged the ABIX chat.

Aleem: If anyone’s free next week… badminton?

Crystal: Wah suddenly sporty again.
Isabelle: I’m in. Haven’t moved my limbs in days.
Ivan: Someone’s healing 😏

Aleem smiled at his screen.

He didn’t explain.

He didn’t have to.