The Departure

Chapter 7 – The Departure

The morning Dasha left, Sapa felt colder.

It was not the weather alone–though the fog was thicker, and the air bit harder at exposed skin. It was the particular kind of cold that arrived when the mind anticipated absence.

Aleem woke before his alarm.

He lay still, staring at the faint outline of the window, listening to the building’s quiet. Somewhere down the corridor, a door closed. A lift chimed softly. The world moved on with ordinary indifference.

His phone sat on the bedside table.

No new messages.

He checked the time.

Too early.

Still, he sat up.

He showered, dressed, and moved through his routine with the same efficiency he used for workdays–clean, controlled motions, as though structure could keep emotion contained.

When he left his room, ABIX were already gathering.

Crystal stood near the lobby entrance, arms folded, eyes sharp.

“You are awake,” she said.

Aleem nodded. “I could not sleep.”

Belle’s expression softened as she stepped closer. “Are you alright?”

Aleem exhaled. “I am fine. Just… aware.”

Ivan glanced at him once, then looked away. “What time is her transport?”

“Eight thirty,” Aleem replied.

Ivan nodded. “We should not be late.”

Crystal’s mouth tightened for a second, and Aleem realised she was trying not to tease him.

Instead, she said, “We will go with you.”

Aleem blinked. “You do not have to.”

Belle’s voice was gentle. “We want to.”

Aleem looked at them, then gave a small nod.

“Alright,” he said.

Outside, the street was damp and quiet. The fog pressed low, muffling the town’s usual chatter. They walked together toward Dasha’s hotel, their footsteps soft on wet pavement.

Aleem’s hands were in his pockets, but his fingers kept curling and uncurling.

Belle noticed.

She did not say anything.

She simply walked slightly closer, as if her presence could steady him.

At Dasha’s hotel, the lobby was already busy with travellers checking out. Suitcases rolled over tile. Voices rose and fell in different languages.

Aleem stood near the entrance, scanning the room.

Then he saw her.

Dasha emerged from the lift with a backpack and a small suitcase. Her hair was tied back, her jacket zipped up, scarf wrapped neatly. She looked composed–like someone who had done this many times.

But when she saw Aleem, something softened in her face.

“Good morning,” she said.

Her voice was calm.

But her eyes held something quieter.

Aleem stepped forward. “Good morning.”

Dasha’s gaze flicked to ABIX.

Crystal smiled with controlled friendliness. Belle offered an immediate warm greeting. Ivan nodded once.

“It is nice to see you again,” Belle said.

Dasha smiled. “You too.”

Crystal looked at the suitcase. “You are really leaving.”

Dasha nodded. “Yes. Hanoi next.”

Crystal’s eyes flicked toward Aleem.

Something about her expression shifted–less teasing, more seriousness.

Ivan checked the time. “Your transport will be here soon.”

Dasha acknowledged it with a nod.

Then her gaze returned to Aleem.

The lobby noise seemed to fade for him.

He noticed the slight redness at the edges of her cheeks from cold. The way her scarf was tucked in neatly. The way her hands held the suitcase handle with familiarity.

The fact that she looked like someone who could leave places without breaking.

And yet, he had learned by now that strength did not mean the absence of feeling.

Aleem cleared his throat.

“Did you sleep?” he asked.

Dasha’s smile was faint. “Not much.”

Aleem’s chest tightened.

He had not expected her to admit that.

The honesty made the goodbye feel heavier.

Crystal spoke first, voice bright but not intrusive. “We should step outside. It is too crowded in here.”

Belle nodded. “Yes.”

Ivan moved first, leading them to the front entrance.

Outside, the fog was thick enough to blur the outlines of buildings. The road gleamed dark with moisture. A few cars passed slowly.

Dasha stood beside her luggage.

Aleem stood in front of her.

There was space between them.

Not because they wanted distance.

Because neither of them knew what to do with the gravity of leaving.

Belle and Ivan stayed a few steps away. Crystal did too, but she watched with the intensity of someone who refused to miss an important moment.

Dasha broke the silence.

“You will return to Singapore,” she said.

Aleem nodded. “Yes. Tomorrow night.”

“And then… it becomes normal again,” Dasha said.

Her voice was not bitter.

Only honest.

Aleem swallowed.

“I do not want it to become normal,” he said quietly. “Not in the sense of… fading.”

Dasha’s gaze held his.

“Then do not let it fade,” she replied.

Aleem let out a slow breath.

It should have been easy to answer.

But this was the exact point where his past always returned–the moment where something good demanded commitment, and fear offered escape.

Dasha watched him carefully.

Then she spoke with the same calm directness she had used at the summit.

“Aleem,” she said, “I am going to ask you something.”

Aleem’s chest tightened. “Okay.”

“I do not need you to promise the future,” Dasha said. “But I need to know you will not disappear when distance makes you anxious.”

Aleem went still.

It was not accusation.

It was clarity.

He looked at her.

There was no demand in her expression.

Only a quiet boundary.

He could feel fear rise–the instinct to protect himself by keeping things undefined.

But he also felt something else.

Something stubborn.

A refusal to let fear choose for him.

He exhaled.

“I will not disappear,” he said.

Dasha’s eyes did not change. She waited.

Aleem understood.

She did not need reassurance.

She needed intention.

So he continued.

“I cannot promise perfection,” Aleem said, voice steady despite the tightness in his throat. “I cannot promise that I will always know the right thing to say. But I can promise that when I feel afraid, I will tell you instead of disappearing.”

Dasha’s gaze softened.

“And when you are tired?” she asked.

Aleem nodded slowly. “Then I will still show up. Even if it is not in the way you expect. I will not punish you for my past.”

The words came out more honest than he had planned.

Crystal’s eyes widened slightly.

Belle’s expression grew tender.

Ivan remained still, but his gaze held quiet approval.

Dasha studied Aleem for a long moment.

Then she stepped closer.

Close enough that Aleem could feel the warmth of her body through the layers.

She lifted her hand and touched his sleeve lightly.

“That is all I needed,” she said softly.

Aleem’s throat tightened.

He nodded once.

Then, because he could not let her leave with only words, he did something simpler.

He opened his arms.

Dasha stepped into them immediately.

Aleem held her.

Not tightly.

Not desperately.

Firmly.

Like he was trying to memorise the weight of her, the way she fit against him, the warmth that existed even in cold air.

Dasha’s arms wrapped around his waist.

For a moment, the fog, the street, the world–all of it seemed distant.

Aleem lowered his head slightly.

His voice was quiet against her hair.

“I do not want this to end as a memory,” he murmured.

Dasha’s reply was a soft exhale.

“Then do not treat it like one,” she whispered.

Aleem pulled back just enough to look at her.

Dasha’s eyes were steady.

They held warmth.

And something that felt dangerously close to trust.

Aleem’s heartbeat was loud in his ears.

He wanted to kiss her.

He did.

But he wanted to do it in a way that matched the tone between them–not rushed, not performed.

So he lifted his hand, brushed his knuckles against her cheek, and asked quietly,

“May I?”

Dasha’s lips curved faintly. “Yes.”

Aleem kissed her.

It was not long.

But it was deliberate.

A kiss that said: I am here. I am choosing this. I am not running.

When he pulled back, Dasha’s expression was soft, but she did not look fragile.

She looked grounded.

“I will message you when I arrive,” she said.

Aleem nodded. “I will reply too quickly.”

Dasha smiled, amused. “Good.”

A car pulled up to the curb.

The driver stepped out.

Dasha’s transport.

The moment had arrived.

Crystal cleared her throat.

She stepped forward, and for once, her voice was not teasing.

“It was nice meeting you,” Crystal said, sincerity restrained but present. “Take care of yourself.”

Dasha smiled warmly. “Thank you. You too.”

Belle hugged Dasha briefly, careful and gentle.

“I hope we meet again,” Belle said.

Dasha hugged her back. “I hope so.”

Ivan gave Dasha a small nod. “Safe travels.”

“Thank you,” Dasha replied.

Then she turned back to Aleem.

Her eyes held his.

She lifted her hand–fingers brushing his wrist lightly.

“Do not disappear,” she said again, not as a demand, but as a quiet reminder.

Aleem nodded once, steady.

“I will not,” he said.

Dasha smiled.

Then she stepped into the car.

The door closed.

The vehicle pulled away, slow at first, then swallowed by fog.

Aleem stood still, eyes fixed on the road long after the car disappeared.

Crystal did not speak immediately.

Belle remained quiet.

Ivan checked his phone, then said calmly, “We should go.”

Aleem turned slightly.

His chest felt hollow.

But beneath the hollow was something else.

A thread of steadiness.

Not the absence of sadness.

Just the refusal to let sadness become withdrawal.

As they walked back toward their hotel, Crystal finally spoke.

“So,” she said, voice lighter again, but careful. “What are you going to do now?”

Aleem exhaled.

He did not look at her.

He looked ahead into the mist.

“I am going to keep showing up,” he said.

Ivan’s voice was quiet behind him. “Good.”

Belle’s smile was small, proud.

Crystal’s mouth curved into something satisfied.

“Finally,” she murmured.

That night, back in his room, Aleem sat by the window and watched Sapa’s fog thicken again.

His phone buzzed.

A message.

Dasha: I arrived. The city is loud.

Aleem’s reply came within seconds.

Aleem: I miss you already.

He stared at what he had typed, surprised by his own honesty.

Then another message appeared.

Dasha: Good.

Aleem smiled–slow, quiet.

Outside, the mountains were hidden.

But for once, Aleem did not feel like something was disappearing.

He felt like something was beginning.