Love Without Fear
Chapter 13 – Love Without Fear
After the café, nothing spectacular happened.
And that was the point.
Love, when it was healthy, did not need to announce itself like a storm.
It could arrive like weather that simply made the day easier to live in.
Kira and Aleem began to build a rhythm that didn’t demand reinvention.
They didn’t disappear into each other.
They didn’t turn their relationship into a new identity.
They simply began to appear in each other’s weeks the way something natural did.
Steadily.
Without fear.
Some evenings, they met after work for a short walk.
Not long enough to become an event.
Just long enough to breathe.
They would choose a route with enough light, enough space, enough quiet.
They talked about nothing and everything.
Kira told him about Wen’s habit of carrying small things “just in case”–tissues, plasters, an extra hair tie.
Aleem laughed softly and said, “Fiz is the same. He always has an extra strap.”
Kira smiled.
Parallel lives, still.
Just closer now.
Sometimes they didn’t talk at all.
They sat on a bench and watched the city move.
Kira’s phone stayed in her bag.
Aleem’s stayed in his pocket.
The silence between them was not a test.
It was a resting place.
Once, Kira leaned her head against his shoulder again, gentle and unannounced.
Aleem didn’t stiffen.
He didn’t make it into a moment.
He simply shifted slightly so her weight could rest more comfortably.
His hand found the back of her shoulder–light, steady.
Not holding tight.
Just there.
爱是可以呼吸的。
Love should be able to breathe.
Kira’s girls remained constant.
Friday movie nights continued.
Wen recovered fully and resumed her quiet anchoring.
Yuxin kept finding reasons to celebrate ordinary things–“It’s Tuesday, that deserves cake.”
Farah continued to be blunt in a way that was somehow affectionate.
Aisyah continued to protect Kira without making her feel trapped.
The difference was that Aleem became a familiar name in their mouths.
Not a centre.
Not a threat.
Just… present.
On one movie night, while Yuxin was complaining loudly about a plot hole, Farah leaned toward Kira.
“You’re still you,” Farah said.
Kira blinked.
Farah’s tone stayed casual, like she was commenting on the weather.
“That’s good,” Farah added.
Kira’s throat tightened slightly.
She nodded once.
Across the couch, Wen’s gaze met hers.
Wen smiled faintly.
No words.
But the message was clear.
We see it too.
Aleem’s bros remained constant as well.
Gym mornings stayed sacred.
Dan continued to announce new cafés like he was reporting breaking news.
Im continued to ask questions that made Aleem reflect.
Fiz continued to measure life in discipline and consistency.
Aaron continued to observe, speaking only when it mattered.
After the café integration, Dan made a new habit of inviting Kira’s girls to group outings “whenever it made sense.”
He didn’t push.
He simply opened doors.
Aleem appreciated that.
He appreciated that his world didn’t tighten into a couple bubble.
It stayed wide.
It stayed honest.
One morning after training, Aaron walked beside Aleem toward the parking lot.
“You good?” Aaron asked.
Aleem glanced at him. “Yeah.”
Aaron nodded.
Then, after a pause, he added, “You look calm.”
Aleem’s chest warmed.
“That’s… the point,” Aleem said.
Aaron’s mouth curved slightly.
“Good,” he replied.
The moment Kira realised she trusted him fully was also ordinary.
It was a Wednesday.
She had had a long day–meetings stacked back to back, her patience worn thin by small incompetences, her head buzzing with unfinished tasks.
She didn’t want to talk.
She didn’t want advice.
She didn’t want someone to demand cheerfulness.
She texted Aleem.
Kira: Can I come over for a bit? I don’t want to talk much. Just… sit.
The reply came quickly.
Aleem: Yes. Come. No need to talk.
No questions.
No guilt.
No need to justify her mood.
Kira arrived at his place an hour later, shoes kicked off at the entrance. The apartment was quiet, tidy, lived-in without being curated.
Aleem greeted her softly, then stepped aside to let her in.
He didn’t ask what happened.
He didn’t ask what she needed.
He watched her face for a second, then said, “Tea?”
Kira nodded.
Aleem went to the kitchen without making it into service.
Just a gesture.
A familiar language.
Kira sat on the couch and exhaled.
Her shoulders dropped in slow increments, like her body was finally allowed to stop bracing.
When Aleem returned, he placed the tea on the table, then sat down–close enough to be present, far enough to be respectful.
He picked up a book.
Not as a performance.
As permission.
We can be quiet.
Kira stared at the tea for a moment, then whispered, “Thank you.”
Aleem didn’t look up.
He didn’t demand eye contact.
He just said, softly, “Of course.”
Minutes passed.
The city hummed outside.
Kira sipped her tea.
Aleem turned a page.
Then, without thinking, Kira shifted closer until her shoulder brushed his.
Aleem stilled for half a second.
Then he moved his arm slowly, resting it lightly along the back of the couch behind her.
Not pulling her in.
Just creating a boundary of warmth.
Kira leaned into it.
Her head lowered against his shoulder.
Aleem’s breath slowed.
They stayed like that.
No words.
No fixing.
No extracting meaning.
Just quiet companionship.
And Kira realised, in the simplest way, that she wasn’t afraid.
Not of being swallowed.
Not of being demanded.
Not of losing herself.
Because Aleem didn’t love like that.
He loved like someone who had a life.
He loved like someone who respected hers.
He loved like someone who knew that closeness did not require possession.
“Aku ada hidup aku. Kau ada hidup kau. Tapi kita boleh jalan sama-sama.”
I have my life. You have your life. But we can walk together.
Kira’s eyes closed.
Her breathing evened out.
The day inside her softened.
When she finally spoke, her voice was barely there.
“This is nice,” she murmured.
Aleem’s voice came quiet, steady.
“Yeah,” he said. “It is.”
Kira didn’t need him to say more.
Because the proof was in the everyday.
In the tea.
In the silence.
In the way he let her be tired without trying to turn her into someone easier.
Love without fear.