It had started almost without her realising it. Han's knock on her door was becoming a familiar rhythm, a signal that the evening was theirs. "Want to go for a walk?" he would ask, voice casual but carrying a quiet warmth. Noelle had stopped questioning it. She slipped on her shoes, grabbed her light jacket and followed him out into the soft night air.
They walked through quiet streets, the city lit by the glow of streetlamps and the occasional car headlights. The playground was just a few blocks away but the short walk became a world unto itself.
When they reached the playground, they settled on the swings or leaned against the low fence, the sky stretched above them, dark and calm, sprinkled with tiny stars that felt impossibly close. Han often started the conversation with small, ordinary things, the kind of topics that felt trivial at first, yet somehow grounding.
"Have you tried that new café that opened near the MRT station?" he asked one night, swinging one leg lazily.
Noelle smiled, tilting her head. "Not yet. Heard their chocolate cake is good."
Han laughed softly, a low, easy sound that always made her heart skip. "Yeah, it's ridiculous. I went once and almost regretted not buying two slices."
These nights weren't about deep confessions or dramatic revelations. They talked about the weather, their difference in education systems and homework or funny encounters at school. Sometimes there was silence but it was comfortable, like a shared breath and Noelle found she could let herself relax in a way she hadn't before.
Occasionally, he would glance at her, as if caught in thought. His eyes were quiet but observant, watching her hair sway with the breeze or noting the way her hands curled around the swing chains. Noelle would catch his gaze, her pulse quickening, yet she didn't pull away. Instead, she let herself enjoy the warmth in his look, the subtle attentiveness that felt unintentional yet somehow intimate.
One night, as they strolled toward the playground, Han's gaze lingered on a security guard slowly waddling along the sidewalk. He smirked and muttered, more to himself than to Noelle, "Why are all the security guards in Singapore either older or… let's say, not exactly sprinter material?"
Noelle laughed softly. "You mean the ones who look like they might keel over just climbing the stairs?"
Han shook his head, grinning. "Back in Perth, the guards are a whole different story. Fit, lean, built like tanks, and they have to meet a certain height requirement to project a… menacing presence." He gestured vaguely, as though demonstrating the intimidating aura. "You know, actually look like they could chase down someone if they had to."
Noelle's lips twitched into a grin. "So Singaporean thieves are just lucky?"
Han laughed, a warm sound that carried easily in the quiet evening. "Or maybe the guards here rely on their wisdom, calm expressions and intimidating eyebrows," he teased, raising one.
The conversation flowed naturally from there with Han comparing other quirks of Singapore to Perth, Noelle interjecting with observations of her own. It was playful, light and yet she noticed how attentive he was, not just to the streets or the jokes but to her reactions, the way she laughed and the small spark in her eyes when he made her smile.
By the time they reached the playground, the banter had faded into a comfortable silence.
"Look at the stars tonight," Han said softly one night, tilting his head upward. "Clear sky. You don't see this much in the city."
Noelle followed his gaze, taking a deep breath. "It's… peaceful," she admitted. The warmth in her chest wasn't just from the walk; it was from the company, the quiet, the shared little moments that made everything feel lighter.
Even in silence, there was a warmth between them, a connection deepened by small, everyday moments like this.
After a while, they would rise from the swings, brushing off imaginary dust and begin the short walk back. Noelle often noticed the small gestures: Han walking a step closer to match her pace, his hand brushing the edge of hers without thought or the way he occasionally tilted his head when listening to her.
By the time they reached her door, the night had folded into a soft calm. "Thanks for coming out," Han would say, a hint of something quieter in his voice. Noelle would smile, feeling a small, contented flutter in her chest and nod.
"Anytime," she would reply, trying to sound casual while her thoughts replayed every small detail of the evening, the sway of his shoulders, the warmth in his eyes, the gentle ease of his presence.
Over the weeks, this routine became something Noelle began to anticipate. Each night walk was a chance to escape her thoughts, to forget the complications of the day and to simply exist in a space where Han's presence felt like a soft anchor. She noticed herself leaning into the moments, letting her chest rise and fall in quiet rhythm with his, while her mind started to weave subtle daydreams about what it might feel like to reach out and hold his hand or brush her fingers against his.
But the slow-burn nature of their routine kept her grounded. Nothing was rushed. Nothing was demanded. Each evening ended with a quiet goodbye at her door, a small acknowledgment, and the promise that they would do it again tomorrow.
And Noelle found that the anticipation, the warmth, the gentle intimacy of their ordinary nights, was more powerful than any grand gesture could be. She began to realise that sometimes, the smallest moments, the softest touches and the quietest conversations could carry the deepest meaning.
She also spoke of mundane things: her school work, small anecdotes from her life, the little things she'd done while he was away. Han listened attentively, leaning in, asking questions, smiling as if nothing in the world could touch this moment.
Smiling as if nothing in the world could touch this moment, Noelle's heart both swelled and shattered. He was happy. He was present. "Han… you've changed," she said softly, almost to herself, eyes tracing the lines of his face. "Not… in a bad way… just… different."
Han glanced at her, a small, almost imperceptible smile tugging at his lips. "You've changed too," he said quietly, his voice low but steady. "You're… different. More… I don't know… complete, I guess. It's… nice to see."
The night air was warm, carrying the faint scent of jasmine and freshly mown grass. Noelle sat on the soft lawn of her garden, her legs tucked close to her chest, gazing at the scattered constellations above. She could hear the distant hum of the city, muted by the night but here, under the sky, the world felt quieter, intimate, suspended.
Han joined her moments later, lowering himself gently onto the grass beside her. The space between them was comfortable yet charged, a delicate tension that had nothing to do with distance and everything to do with truth waiting to be spoken.
As fast as the happiness had arrived, it slipped away even quicker. Han simply left, the evening dissolving behind him without a proper goodbye. Noelle stood there for a long moment, the cool night air brushing against her skin and the weight of absence pressing down harder than she had expected.
Her chest tightened with a familiar ache, a hollow mix of longing and confusion. All the laughter, the small shared jokes, the quiet comfort of their walks: had it all just been a fleeting distraction for him? She wondered if she had been nothing more than someone to pass the time with while he was in Singapore, someone he could confide in, laugh with and then leave without a thought.
The sting wasn't just in his absence; it was in the lack of recognition, the missing words that would have marked significance. Not even a glance, a pause, a "see you later" that mattered. Noelle felt invisible in the aftermath, like the moments they had shared had never truly belonged to her.
Her mind replayed the nights: the playful banter, the stolen glances, the warmth of his presence and then it all snapped into silence. It was unfair, the sudden emptiness that followed someone she had begun to care for. The playground felt colder now, the stars above distant and indifferent.
The days passed in a haze after that night. The quiet moments under the stars, the weight of Han's gaze and the warmth of his presence lingered in Noelle's mind like an echo. She replayed their conversations, the silences, the little smiles he had spared her but the ending stayed the same: Han left without a proper goodbye, slipping back to Perth as though her presence had been a fleeting distraction.
When school resumed, the normal rhythm of classes and assignments brought little comfort. Noelle moved through corridors and classrooms with a subtle heaviness, her thoughts still drifting to Han, to the way his voice had softened when he spoke to her, the way his hand had brushed hers without intention, the way he had smiled at her like she mattered.
It was Mei Ling who eventually broke through the fog. They met outside the cafeteria, a thermos of tea in hand and Mei Ling's gaze flicked toward Noelle with a mix of concern and caution.
"You're… still thinking about him, aren't you?" Mei Ling asked gently, leaning against the railing.
Noelle hesitated, the familiar flutter in her chest twisting into something sharper. "I… I can't help it," she admitted softly. "It's hard not to."
Mei Ling's eyes darkened slightly, a flash of unease hiding beneath her calm expression. "Noelle… he's just… toying with you, you know that, right? He's in Perth most of the time. You're here, waiting and he… he comes and goes. You're not… he's not here for you the way you think. Look, he didn't even asked for your number."
Noelle blinked, unsure how to respond. There was a part of her that wanted to argue, to defend him silently but another part, quieter and wiser, felt the sting of truth in Mei Ling's words. "Maybe…" she murmured, staring down at the floor. "But it still… it still matters when he's around, doesn't it?"
Mei Ling's lips pressed into a thin line, a faint pang of jealousy betraying her concern. "Yes, I guess. But don't let it consume you. You deserve… someone who doesn't leave without saying goodbye."
Noelle swallowed, the weight of reality settling over her like a soft but unrelenting fog. The slow burn of her feelings, the quiet ache of Han's absence, all sat in her chest, heavy and persistent. Yet, even as she acknowledged it, she couldn't quite let go.
As the school bell rang and students streamed into classrooms, Noelle let herself breathe, holding onto the fragments of happiness she had experienced. The memory of Han was a shadow at the edge of her heart, painful but beautiful and for now, it would have to stay there like a stubborn scar which refuses to heal or fade.