Being Chosen, Gently
Chapter 11 – Being Chosen, Gently
Kira didn’t fall in love all at once.
There wasn’t a single moment she could point to and say, there–right there–was the shift.
It was smaller than that.
It was cumulative.
It was the way Aleem texted early when he knew he might be late.
It was the way he did not sulk when she chose her girls.
It was the way he asked before touching.
It was the way he repaired without making her comfort him.
And, most importantly, it was the way he never spoke as if he was competing with the love she already had.
Because Kira had seen men who did that.
Men who treated friendship like a threat.
Men who treated independence like an insult.
Aleem was not that.
Which meant Kira didn’t have to become smaller to be loved.
The conversation that changed everything happened on an afternoon that wasn’t special.
No sunset.
No rain.
No dramatic soundtrack.
They met at a quiet bookstore café, one with wooden shelves and soft lighting and tables that didn’t encourage long scrolling. The place smelled like paper and coffee and slow time.
Kira arrived first and chose a corner seat by the window.
A familiar habit.
Her phone stayed face down.
When Aleem arrived, he didn’t rush.
He greeted her softly, then went to order.
When he returned, he placed her drink on the table without comment–tea, the way she liked it.
Kira’s eyebrows rose.
“You remembered,” she said.
Aleem’s mouth curved faintly.
“I pay attention,” he replied.
They spoke for a while about small things.
Wen’s health, now better.
Aaron’s father, now stable.
Dan’s newest obsession with some café that apparently made “the best tiramisu in the country.”
Kira laughed.
Aleem watched her with quiet warmth.
Then, as the conversation thinned into comfortable silence, Aleem set his cup down carefully.
He didn’t look nervous.
But he looked… deliberate.
“Kira,” he said.
She lifted her gaze.
“Yeah?”
Aleem’s fingers rested on the table, open.
He didn’t reach for her hand.
He waited.
“I’ve been thinking,” he said.
Kira’s chest stayed calm.
She didn’t brace.
She simply listened.
“I like where this is going,” Aleem continued, voice quiet. “But I don’t want it to stay vague forever.”
Kira nodded slightly.
Fair.
Aleem’s eyes held hers.
“I want to ask you something,” he said.
Kira’s breath slowed.
He didn’t say it like a test.
He said it like an invitation.
“Do you want to be with me?” Aleem asked.
The sentence landed gently.
No pressure.
No dramatic weight.
Just clarity.
Kira didn’t answer immediately.
Not because she didn’t know.
But because she respected the moment enough not to throw words at it.
Her mind moved through the truth, cleanly.
She thought of her girls.
How they had carried her scarf.
Fed her croissants.
Sat beside her without demanding explanations.
She thought of Aleem.
How he made space.
How he listened.
How he kept his life whole even as he stepped closer to hers.
She realised something, quietly.
She wasn’t choosing him because she needed something.
She was choosing him because she liked who she was around him.
Whole.
Unrushed.
Safe.
Kira looked at him.
“Yes,” she said.
Aleem exhaled, slow.
Not relief like someone escaping a cliff.
Relief like someone arriving somewhere steady.
He smiled, small and genuine.
“Okay,” he said.
Kira blinked.
“That’s it?” she teased softly.
Aleem’s eyes warmed.
“What else should it be?” he replied.
Kira’s lips curved.
She understood.
This wasn’t a declaration meant for an audience.
This was a choice.
A private one.
Aleem hesitated, then asked, “Can I hold your hand?”
Kira’s chest softened.
Even now.
Even after her yes.
He still asked.
Kira slid her hand across the table.
“Yes,” she said again.
Aleem’s fingers wrapped around hers gently.
Not gripping.
Resting.
Kira’s thumb brushed his knuckle once.
Outside, people moved past the window, living their lives.
Inside, two people chose each other without urgency.
选择不是依赖，是自由。
Choice is not dependence–it is freedom.
They didn’t immediately tell everyone.
Not out of secrecy.
Out of respect for the quietness of it.
But life had a way of revealing what was real.
That evening, Kira went to movie night as planned.
She sat between Wen and Aisyah, legs tucked under her, bowl of popcorn balanced in her lap.
Yuxin noticed her calm immediately.
“What happened,” Yuxin whispered, eyes bright.
Farah leaned in from the other side. “Don’t say ‘nothing.’ I will scream.”
Kira rolled her eyes, amused.
She didn’t gush.
She didn’t dramatise.
She simply said, “We’re together.”
Aisyah’s gaze sharpened, assessing.
“Do you feel safe?” she asked, as she always did.
Kira’s answer came without hesitation.
“Yes,” she said.
Wen’s hand found Kira’s for a brief squeeze.
No possessiveness.
No fear.
Just warmth.
Yuxin clasped her hands dramatically. “Finally. A man who fits.”
Farah nodded once, satisfied. “Good. Don’t forget us.”
Kira snorted. “As if you’d let me.”
Aisyah’s lips curved faintly. “We won’t.”
On the other side of the city, Aleem met his bros for their usual post-gym coffee.
Dan took one look at his face and pointed.
“You’re smiling,” Dan accused.
Aleem sighed. “Am I?”
Im watched him with patient amusement.
“What happened?” Im asked.
Aleem didn’t posture.
He didn’t act cool.
He simply said, “We’re together.”
Dan slapped the table. “YES.”
Fiz nodded once, the closest he came to celebration.
Aaron’s gaze lifted, quiet and steady.
“You still here?” Aaron asked.
Aleem met his eyes.
“Of course,” Aleem replied.
Aaron looked at him for a moment longer, then nodded.
“Good,” he said.
Aleem’s chest warmed.
Because that was the real test.
Not whether he had found love.
But whether love had made him disappear.
And it hadn’t.
It had simply… arrived.
Gently.
Like it belonged.