At first, Han didn't think much of it. Noelle had been friendly, funny and a little sharp with her teasing, exactly the kind of person he thought would fit right into the noisy group of neighbourhood kids he'd been hanging out with.
But lately, she hadn't been around.
The first evening, he'd waved at her porch and gotten only a small, polite smile in return. The next day, she disappeared inside before he could even say hi. By the third day, he started to wonder if she was avoiding him.
He replayed their conversations in his head. The lights, the food recommendations. He remembered the way her eyes had lit up when she teased him, the way she tried to hide her smile when he teased her back.
Had he done something wrong?
Sitting with the other kids at the satay stall that night, Han found his attention drifting. The jokes didn't feel as funny. The food didn't taste as good. He had glanced toward Noelle's porch earlier and he felt a hollow pang when he saw it empty.
"Hey, you okay?" one of the boys asked, noticing Han's distraction.
"Yeah," Han said quickly, forcing a smile. But as the laughter bubbled around him, his mind wandered back to Noelle.
Maybe she wasn't just another neighbour. Maybe she was the one who made this place feel a little more alive. He seemed to click with her right from the start but somehow, he'd messed up by not realizing it sooner.
Han leaned back, chewing on a skewer, already planning. Tomorrow, he thought. Tomorrow, I'll find a way to talk to her.
The next afternoon, Han spotted Noelle crouched on her porch, adjusting the little lanterns she had strung along the railing. Perfect. He straightened his shoulders, rehearsing something casual to say. Something that didn't sound like he had been overthinking for two days straight.
"Hey, Noelle!" he called, jogging up to the fence. "Those lanterns look awesome. You always make this place feel… festive."
Noelle didn't look up right away. She clipped the lantern into place, dusted off her hands, and finally gave him a small smile. "Thanks."
Then she turned and walked toward her front door.
Han blinked. "Wait…hey, do you have a minute?"
She paused, her back to him. "I'm kind of busy," she said, her tone polite but distant.
Busy. That word stung more than he expected. He watched her disappear inside, the door closing with a soft click that felt heavier than it should have.
For the rest of the day, Han kept catching himself glancing at her porch, waiting for her to come back out. But she didn't. She was really avoiding him. Although he's only going to be here for a few weeks and she's just his auntie's neighbour, somehow it bothered him more than he's willing to admit.
That night, as he sat at his aunt's dining table picking at dinner, he decided he couldn't just let it stay this way. He wasn't sure why it mattered so much but it did. He missed the way she teased him, the way she lit up when she talked about food stalls and decorations.
If she wasn't going to come to him, then he'd have to come up with a plan. Something bold, something that would make her laugh again or at least get her to stop shutting the door in his face.
He find the kids in the neighbourhood were lively, curious and full of energy. It had been easy to make friends. He laughed more than he had in a while, trying new snacks, exploring little streets, and trading stories about school and life in Perth.
One afternoon, he met Fiona, a confident, pretty girl his age, at the corner café. She had an easy laugh, a teasing way of speaking and she treated him like someone she had known for years. Today, she had brought along her boyfriend but she still chatted freely with him, nudging him playfully when she found something funny.
"You've got to try this iced tea," she said, handing him a glass. "It's practically a local legend. Trust me, it's amazing."
Han took the glass, smiling politely. "Thanks, I'll try it."
They bantered back and forth about favourite foods, school stories and little neighbourhood secrets which Han found effortless to keep up. Fiona was charming and confident, easy to talk to and fun.
And yet… there was something missing.
She wasn't Noelle.
He remembered her shy smile, the way she had carefully arranged the lights on her porch, the warmth she carried quietly. She was a year younger, quieter, and often reserved but there was a subtle sincerity in her that drew him in. Fiona's laughter and easy confidence were fun, but they didn't make his chest flutter. They didn't make him notice the way the sunlight caught her hair or the little thoughtful gestures she did without fanfare.
Fiona nudged him again, laughing. "Don't zone out on me, Han. You're supposed to taste the tea, remember?"
"Right," he said quickly, taking a sip. The flavour was refreshing but his thoughts drifted back to Noelle, wondering if she was watching the lights on her porch or busy avoiding him somewhere.
He shook his head slightly, trying to push it away. Fiona was fun, easy, and familiar, and yet… he couldn't shake the thought of Noelle. The quiet girl next door, who had shown him kindness and shared her world with him, even if she didn't realise how much it mattered.
Just as Han was summoning the courage to walk over to Noelle's porch and speak to her, his aunt appeared in the doorway with a bright, cheerful expression that made him pause.
"Han, we're leaving for Malaysia tomorrow!" she announced. "Your grandmother has been asking for you. She misses you terribly and wants to see you immediately. Pack your things!"
Han froze, caught between excitement at seeing his grandmother and frustration at the timing. He had finally worked up the nerve to talk to Noelle, to maybe clear the awkwardness and spend some time together, but now it seemed impossible.
"Tomorrow?" he repeated, trying to mask the disappointment in his voice.
"Yes, early in the morning," his aunt said. "We'll be gone for a week or so."
Han nodded, his mind racing. He had no idea how to tell Noelle before leaving. There was no time and the words he had rehearsed a dozen times: asking her to hang out, to share one of the food stalls, even just a quick goodbye, stayed lodged in his throat.
By the next morning, they were gone. Noelle never received a word from him. She would later notice his absence from the neighbourhood streets and Han, looking out the plane window at the clouds over the city, couldn't shake the pang of guilt.
He had wanted to speak to her. He had wanted to make things right. But fate, or perhaps bad timing, had intervened. And as the plane lifted higher into the sky, he found himself silently wishing that when he returned, he would have another chance.
Noelle noticed the quiet the following morning. The street that had been filled with laughter and the clatter of neighbours now felt strangely empty. She had been expecting Han to appear at his usual time, maybe even to stop by her porch to say hello or tease her about the lights. But there was no sign of him.
By early evening, while helping her mother in the kitchen, Noelle finally gave voice to the question that had been weighing on her. She was slicing vegetables, trying to keep her tone casual, when she asked, "Ma, have you seen Auntie Julie around? I haven't since any of the family today."
Her mother glanced up from the stove, stirring a pot of soup. "Oh, they went back to Malaysia for a while," she said. "For Christmas, I suppose."
The words landed with a quiet finality that made Noelle pause, the knife hovering above the chopping board. He had left. Just like that.
She forced herself to keep moving, slicing the vegetables into neat strips, but her chest felt strangely tight. It was not that she expected him to say goodbye. Han had left… and she hadn't even had the chance to talk to him. They were not that close.
He was just her neighbour's visiting relative, someone who had stopped by for a short while during the holidays. Still, a part of her had thought there might be a moment, some acknowledgement before he went. Even a simple, "See you around." But there had been nothing.
Noelle's stomach twisted. She felt a mixture of relief and frustration. Relief, because at least she didn't have to face the awkwardness of him ignoring her; frustration, because now she had no way to explain herself, no way to bridge the distance she had created by avoiding him.
That night, lying awake in her room, Noelle stared at the faint glow of the fairy lights she had strung across her window. The colours blinked softly in the dark, cheerful and oblivious, and she wondered why she had expected more. She reminded herself that she was only sixteen, that people came and went all the time and that Han had his own life waiting for him in Perth.
And yet, her thoughts lingered on the memory of his smile when he had helped her untangle the strand of lights, the warmth in his voice when he had spoken about surfing, the way he had listened when she told him about her favourite hawker stalls. Small things, but they had stayed with her, as if stitched into the quiet corners of her heart.
The following days stretched on in a slow rhythm. Noelle busied herself with little routines, determined to put him out of her mind. She met her cousin for bubble tea, caught up with classmates over the phone, and read the stack of novels she had been saving for the holidays. She told herself it was just a fleeting encounter, something that happened during Christmas, and that it would fade like the decorations once they were packed away.
For the rest of the holidays, she stayed on her porch longer than usual, pretending to be busy with decorations while her mind wandered to the empty streets and quiet stalls. The absence of Han's familiar presence left a hollow space and she realised just how much she had noticed him without admitting it to herself.
She sighed, leaning against the railing. Maybe it was better this way, she told herself. Better to avoid the disappointment than to face it. And yet, as the lights on the neighbouring houses twinkled under the warm evening sky, a small part of her wished that Han had stayed long enough for her to say something…anything.
Noelle decided then that she would continue to keep her distance. She would focus on herself, on her own routines, on the little joys of the neighbourhood. But deep down, she knew that when Han returned, things would not feel the same. She couldn't predict whether it would be better or worse but the anticipation, the unspoken tension, would linger until that moment.
Meanwhile in Malaysia…
Han leaned against the balcony railing of his grandmother's house, the humid night air wrapping around him. The streets below were quieter than Singapore's, slower and more laid-back. He could hear the chirping of crickets and the faint laughter of relatives inside but his mind kept wandering back to the neighbourhood he had just left.
In Singapore, everything had felt so alive. The night markets, the bright lights strung across porches, the smell of food lingering in the air. And then there was Noelle.
She was different from the others. Quieter, always hanging back a little. A year younger, not the loud and confident type like Fiona, whom he had also gotten to know. Fiona was pretty, confident and she spoke to him easily, like they had been friends for years. And she already had a boyfriend, so she doesn't come across as someone who would approach him with an agenda. Their conversations were fun though they never stayed with him after.
Noelle, however, felt different, even though he couldn't quite figure her out. She was plain, a little chubby and sometimes it felt like she was trying hard not to be noticed. But when she talked, there was something steady and real in her voice. He had seen it when she showed him the Christmas lights, how serious she was about making them perfect. It made him smile.
He had wanted to talk to her more. Maybe even ask her to bring him around properly, not just give recommendations. But before he could, his aunt had told him about the trip to Malaysia. His grandma missed him too much and the whole family had to leave early the next day. There hadn't been time to tell Noelle anything.
Still, Han found out he would be returning to Singapore for Chinese New Year before heading back to Perth. That thought gave him some relief. Maybe when he returned, he would get another chance. Maybe by then, she would still be willing to talk to him.
Han rubbed the back of his neck and let out a small sigh. He didn't know why he cared so much but the thought of her quiet smile and the way she looked at the lights stayed with him, even here, miles away.