The humid evening wrapped Singapore in a soft, sticky embrace, clinging to Axton Creighton like an overzealous hug. He squinted at his phone again, watching the little blue dot bounce erratically across the map, then cursed under his breath. This neighbourhood looked nothing like the polished streets near his hotel. Narrow lanes, faded signs, and the occasional stray cat with an attitude made him feel like he'd wandered into someone's private labyrinth.
He wiped sweat off his forehead with a sleeve and muttered, "This is fine. Totally fine."
His stomach growled so loudly it almost echoed off the walls of the narrow lane. That's when he noticed it—a warm, buttery scent, faint but insistent. It twisted through the humid air, and for a moment he forgot his phone, his hotel, even his irritation at the universe.
He sniffed, feeling slightly ridiculous, and followed the scent like a dog being led to dinner.
Around a corner, a small shop appeared, bathed in golden light. The windows steamed slightly from warmth within, and a bell jingled as he pushed the door open. Immediately, the smell of freshly baked bread and sweet pastries assaulted him with full force. He inhaled deeply, closing his eyes, and may have forgotten to breathe normally.
Inside, the bakery was cozy to the point of cliché. Wooden shelves were stacked with loaves and pastries arranged like little art installations. The smell of yeast, sugar, and caramelized butter hung heavy, and a small counter ran along the side. Behind it, a petite woman with hair in a messy bun wiped flour from her hands onto her apron, looking as if she had stepped straight out of a daydream about small-town charm.
"Hi," she said softly, her voice a gentle bell in the warm space. Her brown eyes held a quiet amusement. "Can I help you?"
"I... I'm a bit lost," Axton admitted, voice low, embarrassed, and entirely unpractised at casual human interaction. "I'm trying to find my hotel."
The woman tilted her head, studying him like he was an interesting problem to solve. Then a small, bemused smile curved her lips. "Well, you've found the bakery. That counts for something, right?"
He chuckled, a little surprised at how easy it was to laugh here. "I suppose it does."
She stepped aside and gestured to a small corner table. "Sit down if you want. I have some croissants left from today. Well... one if you hurry, maybe two if you're lucky."
Axton hesitated. Normally he was in boardrooms or five-star restaurants. He was a man of precision and schedules, not cozy little bakeries tucked into quiet alleys. But the smell, the warmth, the calm patience in her eyes—it was disarming.
"I'll take one, thank you," he said, lowering himself into the chair. He was acutely aware of the floury scent on her apron, the faint hum of a fan overhead, and the way sunlight slanted through the window, catching dust motes like tiny golden specks of magic.
As he took his first bite, buttery layers melting on his tongue, something inside him loosened. He closed his eyes briefly, savouring it, and maybe groaned a little too loudly in delight. "Oh... that is really good."
Elin watched him with an almost conspiratorial tilt of her head, one eyebrow raised. "You don't say," she murmured, and he caught a glint of mischief in her eyes.
"I've been eating sandwiches and hotel buffet eggs for three days," he confessed, leaning back and letting out a dramatic sigh. "I forgot bread could taste... this. Like... happiness."
"You make it sound very serious," she said, setting a tiny plate of butter on the table with the flourish of someone who clearly enjoyed her own theatrics.
"I am very serious about happiness," he said, smearing some of the butter on the croissant and pretending to examine it with mock gravity. "This is... very serious business. I might even call it life-altering."
Elin laughed, a soft, lilting sound that made the corners of his chest ache pleasantly. "Then I guess I should warn you. Eating more of these could be dangerous."
"Dangerous how?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Addictive. Life-changing. You might start showing up here at random hours demanding pastries."
He grinned. "That doesn't sound like a problem at all."
For a moment, the world outside ceased to exist. No traffic, no deadlines, no directions to follow. Just him, a croissant, and the woman with flour on her hands who seemed quietly amused by the very fact that he existed.
Elin leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching him devour the pastry with the serious dedication of someone performing a sacred ritual. "You're welcome," she said softly, and it felt like more than just politeness.
Axton had just taken a second bite of the croissant when the bell above the door jingled again. He glanced up, half-expecting another lost tourist or an impatient delivery driver. Instead, it was the sunlight outside shifting, casting long orange streaks across the bakery floor. Time had passed faster than he realized.
"You've been here a while," Elin said, brushing flour from her apron again, though her hands still looked dusted with it. "I should probably start closing up soon. My shift ends in thirty minutes."
Axton blinked. "Wait, closing... now? But I just—" He waved his half-eaten croissant like a flag of surrender. "I just found paradise."
Elin laughed, a soft, musical sound that made him grin despite himself. "I know. That's why I can't let you get lost in it forever. Singapore streets aren't exactly friendly to tourists, especially at night."
He froze mid-bite. "Night? Already?" He looked at the window, suddenly aware that the golden afternoon had faded into a dusky, humid evening. The narrow lanes outside were darker now, shadows pooling like ink. "Oh no. I'm... really not dressed for adventure."
"You look fine," Elin said, tilting her head with a knowing smile. "Though I suppose that depends on whether your idea of adventure involves getting hopelessly lost."
"I am excellent at getting lost," he admitted with mock pride. "It is truly my hidden talent."
She raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. "Hidden, huh? I think it's more... spectacularly obvious."
Axton feigned indignation, placing the croissant on the table and leaning back. "I'll have you know that this is a very sophisticated skill. It requires timing, intuition, and a total disregard for basic directions."
Elin shook her head, laughing as she wiped down the counter. "You're impossible. Okay, fine. I'll help you find your hotel. But only after I lock up. You wait here, and I'll grab my jacket."
Axton's heart gave a small, inconvenient flutter. "Wait... you're going to guide me? Through these... alleys? With me?"
"Yes," she said simply, straightening her apron with exaggerated seriousness. "I am the self-appointed protector of tourists in my neighborhood. Your mission is to follow my lead and try not to fall into any drains."
He laughed and shook his head. "I'll do my best. I make no promises. Last time I tried to follow someone, I ended up in a karaoke bar by accident."
Elin tilted her head, smiling at him like she found this absurd confession endearing. "A karaoke bar, huh? Were you any good?"
"I was... spectacular," he said with a proud puff of his chest. "Though the audience mostly consisted of confused locals and one very suspicious cat."
She chuckled. "Sounds like you fit right in."
The next thirty minutes passed in a blend of comedy and warmth. Axton helped wipe down tables, though he mostly spread flour around like a very awkward apprentice. He had a tendency to sneeze dramatically at the tiniest dusting, sending clouds into the air, which Elin found quietly entertaining.
"Careful!" she said once, catching a rolling pin he nearly dropped on the floor. "You're going to break something."
"I am an expert," he said, gesturing with his hands, which immediately sent a small mound of flour tumbling onto the counter. "Expert in... general chaos management."
"Clearly," she said, shaking her head but smiling.
Finally, she turned the "Closed" sign toward the window and grabbed her jacket. "Okay, let's go. Follow me, tourist extraordinaire."
Axton swung his jacket around and followed her into the alley, which now seemed much darker and more mysterious than it had before. He tried to keep up, his shoes clicking on the uneven cobblestones, and realized he was both nervous and strangely excited to have someone guide him through the unknown.
"So," he said, trying to fill the silence, "do you often rescue lost foreigners from their terrible sense of direction?"
"Only the ones who smell like they've been wandering for hours without food," she said, smirking. "It's part of my unofficial job description."
"Ah, yes. I see. Local hero, flour-wielding saviour, bread whisperer."
She laughed, a little softer this time, walking with her hands tucked into her pockets. "You flatter me, but I think you're making me sound more heroic than I actually am."
They turned a corner, and Axton paused. The street in front of them opened up into a slightly wider lane, lined with shuttered shops. A faint neon sign glowed in the distance.
"Almost there," Elin said, gesturing ahead. "Your hotel should be just down that way."
Axton nodded, though something in the back of his mind tightened. There was a tension in the air, something unspoken. He could feel it like static crawling over his skin.
Before he could ask about it, a sharp sound echoed from the shadows behind them—a low click that made his stomach drop. He spun around, his heart hammering.
There was... nothing.
Elin stopped, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Did you hear that?"
Axton swallowed hard. "I... think so."
Another click, closer this time. The kind that made your skin prickle and your stomach twist in equal parts fear and curiosity.
Elin's hand went to the strap of her bag, and for the first time, she looked serious. "Stay close," she said, her voice quiet but firm.
Axton's stomach twisted, heart hammering as the shadowy figure drew closer. He braced himself, expecting some mysterious villain or a stray hooded stranger, maybe even a wild dog from the alley.
Elin took a small, careful step in front of him, her hand brushing against his arm as if to anchor him. Her eyes were sharp, focused, a flicker of steel in the warm evening light.
The shadowy figure stepped closer, and Axton's chest tightened. His instincts screamed danger, the way it always did when something unknown lurked. Elin's hand immediately went to her bag strap, eyes narrowing like she could take down a small army if necessary.
A sharp squeak cut through the night.
Axton froze. His mind processed the sound. Then his eyes widened.
A rat, small, brown, and decidedly non-threatening, darted from the shadows. Its tiny feet pattered against the uneven cobblestones as it scurried past their ankles and disappeared under a nearby shuttered shop.
Elin screamed, high-pitched and utterly unrestrained, and before he could react, she leapt forward and grabbed his arm. Her fingers dug into his sleeve as if she feared the rodent might somehow leap onto her head.
"Ah! A rat! There's a rat!" she yelled, clinging to him like he was a life raft.
Axton froze for a moment, taken aback by the intensity of her reaction. Then, unable to resist, he burst out laughing. A rich, unrestrained laugh that echoed down the narrow lane.
"It's... it's just a rat," he gasped between laughs. "Not exactly the villain of the story!"
Elin's grip didn't loosen. She pressed closer, wide-eyed and shaking slightly, staring at him as if he might vanish into thin air. "It was enormous! It practically had its own personality!"
"You mean... like... slightly larger than a peanut?" Axton teased, still laughing, though he tried to hide how his chest tightened at the feel of her arms around him.
Elin's eyes went wide. She realized how close she was to him. Her face flushed a bright pink, and she nearly toppled back over a cobblestone as she jumped away. Her hands flew to her chest, pressing against her apron as if to physically contain her mortification.
"Oh my god! I—I'm so sorry!" she stammered. "I didn't mean to... I just—oh no, that's not... I was... the rat!"
Axton blinked, fighting to keep from laughing again. The combination of fear, panic, and flustered embarrassment radiating from her was... captivating. His pulse quickened in a way that had nothing to do with the rat.
"It's fine," he said, his voice calmer but laced with amusement. "Really. No harm done. I promise I don't bite. Unless... you start screaming again."
Her eyes shot to his, and she pressed her lips into a thin, indignant line. "I was not screaming. That was... a very measured expression of shock."
Axton raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "Measured, huh? Sure. Totally measured."
"I... I should probably... continue walking," she said quickly, stepping further away, almost tripping over a stray cobblestone. "Yes. Just... walking. Totally normal."
Axton's lips curled into a teasing grin. "You know, if I didn't know better, I'd think you were just using the rat as an excuse to—"
"No! Absolutely not!" she interrupted, flustered, her cheeks pinking deeper. "It was purely survival instinct! That's it!"
"Uh-huh," he said, suppressing a laugh as he shook his head. "Pure survival instinct. Of course."
Elin's chest heaved slightly as she regained her composure. She straightened, trying to look dignified, though her ears were still pink and her hair had a few loose strands sticking out from the bun.
"Everything okay?" he asked, trying to sound casual, though he could feel a flutter of nervousness in his chest.
"Yes," she said, voice clipped but steady. "Just... concentrating."
"Concentrating on what?" he asked, curiosity tinged with amusement.
"Walking," she replied, without looking at him.
The streets curved gently, and in the distance, he finally saw the familiar lights of his hotel. The neon glow reflected softly on the wet pavement, and relief washed over him.
"Ah, there it is," he said, pointing. "My oasis of air-conditioning, room service, and predictable elevators."
Elin gave a small nod and slowed her pace. "Glad you made it," she said quietly.
Axton turned to her, a smile spreading across his face. "I can't thank you enough. You... really saved me tonight."
She gave a faint, almost shy smile in return, but before he could say anything else, she straightened, adjusted her bag, and started walking back down the lane, blending into the shadows of the side street.
Axton's mouth fell open. "Wait! Hold on!"
She didn't stop.
"I don't even know your name!" he yelled after her, voice a little louder than intended, carrying down the empty street.
Her silhouette paused for a heartbeat. Then, in her haste to escape the awkward closeness and the lingering tension from earlier, a small, leather wallet slipped from her bag. It hit the cobblestones with a soft thud, unnoticed in the dim glow of the streetlights.
Elin didn't look back. She disappeared completely around the corner, leaving Axton blinking after her.
Axton's instincts kicked in. He glanced at the wallet lying on the ground. Brown leather, slightly worn at the edges. He crouched to pick it up and saw a small embossed name: Elin Bluebell Chen.
His heart did a little jump. The faint, buttery scent of her bakery seemed to drift off the wallet, as if it carried a piece of her with it.
He called after her again, but the alley was empty. She was gone.
Holding the wallet in his hand, Axton couldn't help but grin. This was his first clue, his only thread connecting him to the mysterious, flour-dusted woman who had saved him from rats and led him safely through winding Singapore streets.
He stood there for a moment, torn between leaving it or chasing her down, his pulse quickening. The streets felt suddenly quieter, emptier, as if the city itself was holding its breath.
"Well," he muttered to himself, slipping the wallet into his pocket, "looks like my adventure just got a little more... personal."