Han had been looking forward to returning to Singapore for Chinese New Year ever since his aunt told him the plans. It was a relief to know he would get another chance to walk the streets of the neighbourhood, to see familiar faces, and, quietly, to see Noelle again. The sudden trip to Malaysia had been enjoyable, filled with his grandmother's fussing, endless meals and family chatter, but a part of him had felt restless, missing the familiar hum of the Singapore streets and the small, quiet moments he had shared with her.
Now, standing at the edge of the lantern-lit street, he scanned the crowd with that same easy curiosity he had carried during his first visit. There were familiar kids, friends he had met during the holidays, all laughing and shouting over the sound of drums and firecrackers. He could hear the lion dancers' stomping as the troupe moved down the road and the scent of fried snacks and sweet pastries drifted in the warm evening air.
And then he saw her.
Noelle.
She was standing by the porch railing, her hands gripping the edge slightly as though to steady herself. Her eyes were wide, flicking around the street and then they landed on him. He could see her surprise immediately, the way her breath seemed to catch and he felt a small thrill of something he hadn't expected.
For a moment, he just watched her, memorising the quiet determination in her stance, the way she held herself back yet still drew attention without trying. She was still herself, still different from the others he had met: Fiona, the loud and confident girl who spoke as if they had known each other for years; the boys who had dragged him to try every snack stall. Noelle had never been like that. She was steady, genuine and somehow impossible to ignore.
A part of him wanted to step forward immediately, to call her name, to bridge the distance that had grown during the weeks apart. But another part hesitated, wondering if she would even want to see him. He remembered how she had been quiet, a little reserved, even after all the teasing and laughter they had shared. She had held herself back then, and maybe she still did.
Han squared his shoulders and took a careful step toward her, determined to make this one of the moments he hadn't missed. He reminded himself that this was his chance, that he didn't want to let it slip away like last time.
Even from a distance, he could see her face soften slightly, her lips parting in the faintest hint of a smile. It made him grin in return, a small, cautious gesture of reassurance. He didn't know how she would react once he reached her but for now, seeing her there was enough.
The drums rolled again, louder this time and Han moved a few more steps forward, weaving carefully through the crowd. Every heartbeat reminded him that he had wanted this that he had missed her presence more than he realised. The bright lanterns above them swayed gently in the evening breeze and for a brief, suspended moment, it felt as if the world had narrowed to just the two of them.
Han's steps slowed as he approached Noelle, the air around him suddenly feeling heavier than it had a moment ago. His mind raced with a hundred possible things to say. A simple "Hi" felt too small, too ordinary. Should he joke about the lights? Ask her about the holidays? Comment on the lanterns swaying above? None of it felt right.
Noelle had noticed him by now. Her eyes widened slightly, her hands tightening on the railing. Han could see the surprise and nervousness flicker across her face and he felt his stomach twist with a mixture of relief and anxiety. She was really here, and she had seen him.
He took another step forward, clearing his throat.
"Eh… hi, Noelle," he said, his voice sounding stranger to his own ears than it ever had. "I, uh… didn't expect to see you here."
Noelle blinked, a small, polite smile forming. "Hi… Han," she said softly. Her voice trembled just a little, betraying her nerves. "I… I didn't expect to… see you either."
The words hung between them, awkward and stiff. Han opened his mouth again, then closed it. He had rehearsed a million ways to start this conversation, but none of them came out right.
"I… um… the lanterns are… nice," he said finally, forcing a smile as he gestured vaguely toward the red and gold decorations swaying above the street.
Noelle tilted her head, a small laugh escaping her despite herself. "Yeah… nice," she echoed, her voice uncertain. "I like… the lion dance."
There was a pause, heavy with the weight of unsaid things. Han scratched the back of his neck, wishing he could rewind the moment and start over. The words he had wanted to say, the jokes, the casual invitations to try food, the quiet acknowledgment that he had thought about her while he was gone, had evaporated.
He swallowed and tried again. "So… um… how have you… been?"
Noelle's smile faltered just slightly. She fiddled with the edge of her blouse, unsure where to look. "I… I've been… okay," she said softly. "School, family… you know."
Han nodded, but the silence returned almost immediately, pressing down on them like the humid evening air. He opened his mouth to fill it again but the words came out jumbled, awkward. "Yeah… same. School… family… busy… you know?"
Noelle's eyes widened slightly, and she let out a small, nervous laugh. "Yeah… busy," she echoed, clearly aware that the conversation had gone off the rails.
They both stopped speaking, standing there in the middle of the lantern-lit street, the drums of the lion dance echoing around them. Children ran past, sparklers clutched tightly in small hands, parents shouted greetings to friends and the night felt alive around them but between the two of them, a strange tension had settled.
Han looked at her, suddenly wishing he could just erase the last few seconds. He wanted to take a step closer, reach out, fix the awkwardness but his own nerves held him back. He could feel her unease mirrored in himself and he realised that for both of them, this reunion was not as easy as he had imagined.
Noelle shifted slightly, glancing down at her feet, then back up at him. She opened her mouth as if to say something, then paused, unsure what would come out.
Han offered a small, sheepish smile. "I… uh… guess we both need… practice," he said, trying to ease the tension but the words only made the awkwardness more tangible.
She laughed nervously again, a quiet sound and he felt a pang in his chest. It wasn't what he had hoped for but at least she wasn't running away.
For a long moment, they stood like that, two teenagers caught between excitement, relief, and the clumsy awkwardness of words that refused to cooperate. The lanterns swayed above them, the music of drums and cymbals filling the night. Han realised that maybe, just maybe, this was exactly how things had to start: messy, uncertain, but alive with possibility.