The Morning Pickup
Chapter 3 – The Morning Pickup
Morning in Sapa arrived softly, as though the mountain did not believe in suddenness.
The fog was still there when Aleem woke, pressed against the window like a pale second curtain. The street below was quiet in that early hour–only the occasional motorbike, a distant voice, the faint clatter of metal as someone set up a stall for the day.
Aleem lay still for a moment, staring at the ceiling.
He had slept.
Not deeply, not without waking once or twice to check the time, but enough.
And that, in itself, felt strange.
Last night’s call had lingered in him like warmth caught beneath the skin. Dasha’s voice, her laugh, the calm directness with which she said things that would have unsettled him in anyone else.
I am certain I want to do it with you.
He pushed the thought away before it could become a spiral.
Today was a climb.
A climb required preparation. It required focus.
He moved through his routine with disciplined efficiency–shower, layers, socks thick enough to be sensible, the jacket he had chosen for wind. He packed his bag again even though he had packed it the night before: water, snacks, energy bars, gloves, a small first-aid kit he kept out of habit.
Then, after a pause, he added one more thing: a small packet of hand warmers.
He told himself it was practical.
It was.
It was also, unmistakably, for her.
Downstairs, the lobby smelled faintly of coffee and damp wool. ABIX were already gathered near the entrance, dressed for the cold.
Crystal looked annoyingly awake. Her hair was tied back neatly, and her jacket looked like it had never been folded poorly in its life.
“You are on time,” she said, as though it was a rare achievement.
“I am always on time,” Aleem replied.
Ivan lifted his gaze from his phone. “We should leave within ten minutes. The shuttle to the cable car has a queue.”
Belle yawned softly, then smiled when she noticed Aleem watching her.
“Good morning,” she said. “You look like you did not sleep properly.”
Aleem did not bother denying it. “I slept enough.”
Crystal’s grin sharpened. “Of course you did. You were only on the phone for half the night.”
Aleem froze.
Belle blinked. “You were?”
Ivan’s expression was calm, almost indifferent, but his eyes flicked toward Aleem with faint amusement.
Aleem cleared his throat. “It was not half the night.”
Crystal’s smile widened. “It is always half the night when you are trying to pretend it was nothing.”
Belle’s eyes softened. She did not tease. She never did when something looked like it might matter.
“I hope it was a good conversation,” she said simply.
Aleem nodded once. “It was.”
Ivan slipped his phone into his pocket. “We will stay near the base area. We can explore the town and find a café. Call us when you are done.”
Crystal waved a hand. “We will meet you after. Go and climb your mountain.”
Belle stepped closer, her voice lowered.
“Do not overthink today,” she said.
Aleem gave a small, resigned smile. “That is not a skill I possess.”
Belle smiled back. “Then do your best anyway.”
Aleem nodded, then stepped out into the cold.
The driver waited by the car, engine idling. Aleem slid into the back seat, pulled the seatbelt over his chest, and gave the hotel one last glance before they drove away.
His phone buzzed.
A message.
Dasha: Good morning. Are you awake already?
Aleem’s smile came without permission.
Aleem: I have been awake for a while.
Aleem: I am on my way to pick you up.
A pause, then:
Dasha: Do not arrive too early.
Aleem glanced at the time. He was already ten minutes ahead.
Aleem: I will do my best to behave like a normal person.
Dasha: That sounds difficult for you.
Aleem laughed quietly, the sound fogging slightly against the window.
The car threaded through Sapa’s narrow streets, then turned toward the hotel district. The fog grew thicker here, swallowing rooftops until they looked like silhouettes.
When they reached Dasha’s hotel, Aleem paid the driver and stepped out. He stood under the awning, adjusting his gloves and pretending he was not nervous.
He was.
Not in the way he had been when he approached her at Cat Cat Village.
This was different.
This was the nervousness of someone who had already let the other person into his head, into his late-night thoughts. The nervousness of a connection that had begun to feel real before it had been defined.
A few minutes later, the lobby door opened.
Dasha stepped out.
She was dressed for the mountain now–thermal layers, hiking pants, a thick jacket with a scarf tucked into the collar. Her hair was tied back, but a few strands had escaped, softened by the cold.
She looked warm.
She also looked unmistakably like herself.
When she saw him, her face brightened in a way that made Aleem’s chest tighten.
“You are early,” she said, not accusing, only amused.
Aleem raised his hands slightly in surrender. “I tried to resist.”
Dasha laughed softly. “You failed.”
“Yes,” Aleem admitted. “But I am here.”
“That is good,” Dasha said.
She stepped closer, and for a moment, they stood in the thin space between strangers and something else.
Aleem cleared his throat.
“Are you ready?” he asked.
“Yes,” Dasha replied. “Are you?”
Aleem’s smile was restrained. “I am pretending I am.”
Dasha’s eyes warmed. “That is acceptable.”
The driver opened the back door for them. Aleem and Dasha slid into the seat side by side.
As the car pulled away, Dasha turned her face slightly toward the window.
Sapa passed by in blurred layers: fog, rooftops, signage, people wrapped in scarves. The road curved and dipped, climbing slowly.
Aleem watched Dasha’s reflection in the glass.
He wanted to say something meaningful.
But he had learned, through years of trying and failing, that meaningful words had a way of sounding foolish when forced.
So he chose something simple.
“How are you feeling?” he asked.
Dasha looked at him. “Excited.”
“Not nervous?”
“I am nervous,” she admitted. “But nervous is not bad. Nervous means you care.”
Aleem hesitated. “That is one way to look at it.”
“It is the right way,” Dasha said, and her smile carried that quiet confidence again.
They reached the cable car station area where people clustered in layers of jackets, lined up with tickets and thermal cups. The air was colder here, sharper.
Aleem paid for their transport and adjusted his backpack.
Dasha watched him with a faint smile.
“You are very prepared,” she said.
“I am responsible,” Aleem corrected.
Dasha leaned closer, lowering her voice slightly as if it was a secret.
“You are father energy,” she murmured.
Aleem’s eyes widened. “Do not start with that again.”
Dasha’s laughter was bright, and Aleem found himself smiling, despite himself.
They joined the queue, moving forward in slow increments. Around them, people spoke in different languages, their breath visible in the cold.
When they finally stepped into the cable car, the doors closed with a soft click.
The cabin shifted, then began to rise.
Sapa fell away beneath them.
Trees became a textured blanket of green. The fog drifted past the glass like ghosts, and the wind shook the cables with a muted hum.
Dasha pressed closer to the window, her eyes widening as the height increased.
Aleem watched her, then glanced down.
He was not afraid of heights.
But he understood the silent respect the mountain demanded.
“It is beautiful,” Dasha said.
“Yes,” Aleem replied.
He did not add that she looked beautiful when she said it.
He did not want to turn every moment into a compliment.
Some moments deserved to exist without being claimed.
At the top station, they stepped out into sharper air.
The climb would begin from here.
There were steps, winding trails, wooden platforms. The path was crowded at first, but as they moved forward, the crowd thinned.
Aleem set the pace deliberately–steady, manageable. He watched Dasha’s breathing, her posture.
Dasha noticed.
“You are checking on me,” she said.
“I am making sure you are okay,” Aleem replied.
“I am okay,” she said, then tilted her head. “But it is sweet.”
Aleem’s mouth tightened as if to hide a smile.
“It is practical,” he insisted.
Dasha’s expression was gentle, but her tone was teasing. “Of course.”
They climbed.
The mountain demanded effort in small increments: a steep stretch, then a brief plateau; a rough set of steps, then a smoother section. The wind grew stronger as they gained height.
Dasha did not complain.
She stopped when she needed to, drank water, took deep breaths, then continued.
Aleem admired her for it.
Not because she was tough.
Because she was honest.
When she struggled, she did not pretend she was not struggling.
When she laughed, it was unguarded.
At one point, they reached a narrow section where the path hugged a slope.
Dasha stepped carefully, then glanced at Aleem.
“Do you always climb like this?” she asked.
“Carefully?”
“Yes.”
Aleem’s voice was calm. “It is better than being reckless.”
Dasha’s eyes held a quiet challenge. “Maybe.”
Aleem looked at her. “What do you mean?”
Dasha shrugged lightly. “Sometimes careful is just fear wearing good clothing.”
Aleem’s chest tightened.
He kept walking, letting the wind cover his silence.
After a moment, he said quietly, “You say things that are difficult to argue with.”
Dasha smiled. “That is why I say them.”
Aleem exhaled, amused despite himself.
They continued upward.
When the climb grew steeper, Aleem offered his water bottle. When the cold bit harder, he reached into his bag and handed her the packet of hand warmers.
Dasha stared at them.
“You brought these for me,” she said.
Aleem’s instinct was to deny it.
Instead, he chose honesty.
“Yes,” he said. “I thought you might need them.”
Dasha’s gaze softened.
She tucked one into each glove, then looked at him with warmth that made Aleem look away.
“You are kind,” she said.
Aleem swallowed. “I try to be.”
They stopped briefly at a viewpoint where the mist parted enough to reveal distant ridges.
Dasha took a photo, then turned to him.
“Your friends,” she said. “They are all together?”
“Yes,” Aleem replied. “They have partners. Or… they are attached.”
“And you?”
Aleem hesitated.
He could have made a joke.
Instead, he said the truth.
“I am the only one single,” he admitted.
Dasha studied him for a beat.
“You do not look lonely,” she said.
Aleem laughed quietly. “That is because I learned to hide it.”
Dasha’s eyes did not pity him.
They simply held him with understanding.
“Maybe you should stop hiding,” she said.
The words landed, gentle but heavy.
Aleem looked at her, then looked away toward the mist.
“I do not know if I can,” he admitted.
Dasha’s voice softened. “You can. Not all at once. But you can.”
Aleem did not answer.
He kept walking.
And yet, something inside him shifted.
Not dramatically.
Not like a sudden revelation.
More like the slow loosening of a knot.
As the trail continued, their conversation returned to lighter things.
Dasha teased him about his snacks. Aleem teased her about how she could flirt without even trying.
“You think I flirt?” Dasha asked.
Aleem glanced at her. “You do not?”
Dasha’s smile was quiet. “Maybe I do. With you.”
Aleem felt his heartbeat stumble.
He forced himself to keep his tone even.
“Then I am honoured,” he said.
Dasha laughed, and the sound followed them up the mountain like a small, bright thread.
By the time the summit grew near–signs indicating fewer metres, the air thinning, the wind sharpening–Aleem’s legs were burning.
But his mind was strangely clear.
He did not know what would happen at the top.
He only knew that he wanted to reach it with her.
And that, he realised, was already dangerous.
Because it meant he was no longer climbing only for the mountain.