By the time January arrived, the neighbourhood had quietly moved on. The fairy lights, once brilliant with the promise of Christmas, still clung stubbornly to fences and balconies, though their bulbs now flickered dimly, some already burnt out. Many households had stopped switching them on altogether, leaving them to dangle like tired remnants of joy that belonged to another time.
Gradually, their fading presence was overshadowed by the glow of red lanterns, swaying gently from doorways and gates whenever the wind stirred. They bobbed like little hearts, warm and luminous, a sure sign that Chinese New Year was drawing near. Along the corridors, neighbours were sweeping out dust with long, deliberate strokes of their brooms, muttering about clearing bad luck before the new year. Children darted about with sparklers in hand, while the sharper crack of firecrackers echoed faintly from a distant block.
The malls had transformed too. Where only weeks ago the air had been filled with the sound of carols and the scent of pine wreaths, now it was Mandarin melodies that trailed from the speakers with the festive songs sung in bright, lilting tones, underscored by the insistent beat of drums. The shopfronts were a wash of scarlet and gold. Artificial plum blossoms stretched their branches above storefronts, while cardboard cut-outs of dragons and smiling zodiac animals greeted shoppers at every turn.
Stalls overflowed with trays of love letters, pineapple tarts and bak kwa, the sweet smoky fragrance of roasted meat drifting through the aisles until it clung to clothes and hair. In the supermarkets, aunties debated fiercely over the price of spring onions, mandarin oranges, their plastic bags straining with round, glossy fruit that gleamed like miniature suns.
For Noelle, the change was a jarring reminder of time's steady march forward. Christmas, their Christmas, had already slipped into memory, leaving only faint traces in the form of a few dangling ornaments she couldn't quite bring herself to pack away. The lanterns and festive music were cheerful but they made her chest ache with a hollow kind of loneliness.
The world was dressing itself for celebration but inside, she felt the quiet absence of something that had gone with Han when he left for Malaysia.
Noelle told herself she had moved on too. Han was gone. He had returned to his family, his school, his friends in Australia. She was here, where life was familiar and ordinary. There was no point waiting for something that was never going to happen.
The neighbourhood had transformed almost overnight. Where fairy lights once blinked weakly in December, now rows of red lanterns bobbed and swayed from doorways, their glow warm against the dusky evening. Banners of gold calligraphy fluttered slightly in the breeze, promising luck and prosperity. The whole street seemed to hum with energy.
That evening, the sharp pop and crackle of firecrackers echoed in bursts, followed by the deep, rolling thunder of drums. Noelle stepped out to her gate, drawn by the noise. Her neighbours were already gathering outside, children squealing as they clutched paper packets of sunflower seeds or candied melon slices, their faces sticky with sweets.
The lion dance troupe came into view with two lions, one red and one gold, weaving and leaping in perfect rhythm. Their large painted eyes blinked dramatically, their gaping mouths snapping open and shut with each pounding beat of the drum. The air smelled of incense from joss sticks burning at doorways, mingled with the smoky tang of grilled satay from a stall that had set up by the corner.
Noelle hugged her arms around herself, unsure if she wanted to blend into the crowd or slip back inside. She loved the celebrations but tonight her chest felt tight and she wasn't sure why. Perhaps it was the sound, the way the drums seemed to vibrate straight through her bones, stirring something restless inside her.
And then she saw him.
Han.
Han stood a little apart from the crowd, tall enough to see over most of the heads around him. His hair caught the glow of the lanterns, the faint bleached streaks turning gold under the light and his skin was bronzed in a way that made him look as though the sun itself had followed him back. He was dressed simply, in a white shirt and jeans but somehow, he stood out, as if he belonged both here and somewhere else at the same time.
For a heartbeat, Noelle could not breathe. Her chest tightened and she felt the world tilt slightly under her feet. She had not known he was coming back. She had not prepared herself for this.
A rush of emotions tumbled over her in a confusing mix. Surprise, sharp and sudden, made her pulse race. Nervousness curled in her stomach, twisting into a knot. And beneath it all was a flicker of warmth, a tiny spark of hope that she had tried so hard to extinguish over the past weeks.
Her breath caught. For weeks she had avoided him, dodging his glances, pretending she was too busy with chores whenever he walked past. And yet now, amidst all the chaos and noise, he was the only person she could see.
The lion dancers drew cheers from the crowd as they rose onto their hind legs, mimicking a playful bow. Cymbals clashed, sending sparks of sound into the night. Noelle barely noticed. Han had turned, scanning the crowd, and for the briefest moment, his gaze landed squarely on hers.
Her heart stumbled.
She tried to look away but it was too late. His smile softened, his hand half-raised as though he might wave. The crowd jostled, shifting her sideways and she ducked her head quickly, pretending to adjust the red paper couplet taped to her gate. Her fingers trembled as she smoothed it, even though it was already perfectly straight.
Why now? Why here, when her resolve had been so firm? She told herself she didn't want to care, that it was better to keep her distance. Yet the sound of his laugh, carried across the festive din, slipped under her skin like a memory she could never quite erase.
The drums quickened, the lions leapt one final time and exploded in a shower of smoke and sparks that made the children squeal in delight. Families clapped and cheered, voices rising in happy chatter.
But Noelle felt none of it. Her pulse was racing too hard, her throat too tight. She retreated slowly into her house, slipping through the doorway before anyone noticed. As she closed the gate behind her, she caught one last glimpse of Han across the road, his figure bathed in the glow of lantern light, still smiling, still unaware of the storm he stirred inside her.
She pressed her back against the wooden door and shut her eyes.
It wasn't supposed to be this hard.
She gripped the railing beside her, steadying herself as the drums rolled in another thunderous beat. Her thoughts tangled. Should she go over and say something? Should she pretend not to see him? What if he did not remember her as she remembered him?
It felt as if time had paused, caught between the past she thought she had let go of and the present standing unexpectedly before her. The lanterns swayed above the street, casting shifting shadows across his face and in that moment, Noelle realised that everything she had told herself, about forgetting, about moving on, was not as simple as she had believed.