She walked in. The knock hadn't been loud — just a soft, fading sound. Glenda looked up and straightened instantly. Her lips parted, but no words came. Sandra twisted her fingers nervously, eyes down, gaze flickering.
"My behavior yesterday was awful. I'm sorry, Glenda." Her voice was barely a whisper.
Glenda's expression softened, and she pulled Sandra into a tight hug. "I missed you, Sandra," she murmured. Sandra smiled, letting the embrace linger a moment longer.
"Hey, buddy — I'm not disappointed at all. I've managed dozens of designers, but none of them connected with the work the way you do."
Sandra grinned. "And I've never had a manager as great as you, Glenda."
*Okay, enough sugarcoating, girls.* (ー_ー)
"Ahem!"
They spun around. Sandra gasped dramatically. "Amy Ron! Oh my god!" She bounced over, hugging Glenda and peppering her cheeks with kisses. "How? How is this happening?"
"I never thought—" Sandra kept going, breathless. "Just, how?"
Amy looked at Glenda with a warm, melting smile. "Because I believed in Glenda's decision," she said.
Sandra's excitement softened into gratitude. She bowed. "I'm sorry — I said terrible things to you yesterday, Glenda. Thank you for getting the model I wanted. I really mean it."
They exchanged a glance and nodded.
"I just did what a friend would do," Glenda said quietly, crouching slightly. Sandra's eyes followed her as they both straightened, locking eyes — and smiling at the same time.
"Aww, you two are so sweet," Amy said, pulling them both into a hug, laughing freely. "I'm glad I came."
***
The warmth of that moment stayed with her. She held the button near her chest and smiled, the world around her softening. She looked around the subway car — the murmur of the crowd, the hush of moving air, the rhythmic rattle of the train. It all settled something inside her.
The doors opened and she stepped on, took a seat, adjusted her glasses, and put in her headphones, resting her head against the window.
"Sister, can you tell me when this stop arrives?" A little boy pointed at the map. The girl blinked and leaned in to look, crouching to his level. "Sorry — can you say that again?"
The boy repeated himself, no longer pointing. She didn't catch it. Guilt and unease crept over her. She leaned closer, watching his lips.
"I — I want to help you, but please, can you say it slower?" she stammered, eyes locked on his mouth, fingers laced tightly together.
The boy turned to his friend. "Can't she understand? I already asked twice!" the friend complained.
His lips moved too fast for her to follow. Her stomach dropped, heart pounding, fingers gripping tighter.
"I really wanted to help, but—" her voice wavered, and before she could finish, Sandra stepped in.
"What's going on, kids?" Sandra asked, her words slow and clear, the kind of smile that eased tension.
"We wanted to know when to get off for this stop," the boy said, pointing again. Sandra leaned in to check the map.
"Two more stops. After the second announcement, you'll be at Bugis. Okay?"
The boys nodded, repeating it back. "Two more stops. Okay. Thanks, kind sister!" They bowed and walked off. Sandra gave a short nod, watching them go.
She glanced at the girl beside her and sat down. "Kidlathea, are you alright?"
Kidlathea didn't respond. Sandra touched her shoulder gently, and only then did Kidlathea look up, watching Sandra's lips move again — slower this time.
"What happened? Why didn't you help them?"
"I wanted to," Kidlathea said, eyes fixed on Sandra's mouth. "I just couldn't hear them clearly."
"But you saved me back there. Thanks for stepping in." Kidlathea didn't meet her eyes.
Sandra narrowed her eyes slightly but let it pass. "It's nothing." The words came out fast — too fast. Kidlathea only nodded, confused.
"Where are you headed? Any mall?" Sandra asked, scrolling on her phone.
Kidlathea didn't answer — just stared blankly. Sandra glanced over, smiling awkwardly. "What's up, Kidlathea? You good?" she repeated, slower this time, concerned.
Kidlathea caught it now. "Oh — nothing's wrong. What were you asking?"
Sandra, thinking Kidlathea had simply zoned out, repeated herself. "I asked where you're getting off."
"Sorry — can you... say that again?" Kidlathea murmured.
Sandra furrowed her brows, about to respond, when an announcement cut through.
*"This is Raffles Place. Doors will be opening to the left."*
Sandra stood quickly. "You should rest once you're home. You look exhausted." She walked off without another word.
Kidlathea buried her face in her hands, a wave of anxiety crashing over her. She exhaled shakily.
*I made her uncomfortable.*
Time passed in silence. She looked around — teenagers absorbed in their phones, workers half-asleep, elderly passengers with tired, distant eyes. The announcements were the only sounds that seemed to reach her.
*"Next station, Jurong East. Change here for the North-South Line. Doors will open on the right."*
That was her stop. She glanced from her phone to the window, then quickly moved to the door.
*"This is Jurong East."* She stepped out, lungs filling with city air, ears adjusting to a noise she hadn't heard in a while. She smiled faintly and walked until she spotted a familiar figure.
"Hey, babe — I'm here!"
She ran to her boyfriend, who pulled out a bouquet. She melted into his arms, blushing. "They smell amazing. Roses are my favorite." They laughed, hands finding each other.
"Let's go."
"Sure."
***
Sandra walked into Tristian's café. He looked up at the sound of the bell, an easy smile already in place.
"Hey, Sandra." He kept wiping down the counter. "Closing early?" she asked.
"Tomorrow's the weekend, so yeah." He shrugged. She slumped into a seat, cheek against the table. "Aw, I was going to help out today."
"That's alright," he said. "We could grab dinner instead."
Sandra sprang up, chasing after him with a bright grin. "You just won my heart, Mr. Vlastos. Thanks for the treat!"
He laughed. "I never said I was treating you."
Sandra clutched her chest dramatically. "Traitor! You broke my heart — I'm leaving!" He laughed again, then said something that completely shifted her mood.
"What if I told you it wasn't true?"
She spun back around immediately, rubbing his shoulders with a wide grin. *You're seriously too easy to win over, Sandra.* (—_—)
"Oh, Tristian — you're such a godlike earthling~"
"Yeah, yeah. Cut it out and help me clean up."
"Yes, my highness!"
Tristian locked up the café and pulled down the shutter, watering the plants one last time and misting the young grape vines with gibberellin. Sandra stood quietly, watching how gentle he was with things most people overlooked. Something about that steadiness settled into her — a quiet kind of trust she hadn't expected.
She'd never felt this way about him before. Not nervous, exactly — more like goosebumps from carrying a feeling that wasn't quite hers yet.
"We can head out now," he said, his usual bright smile reserved just for her. She nodded and followed.
"You care about those plants more than your customers," she teased.
"To me, they're not just plants — they're like toddlers, and I'm their babysitter." He chuckled, and she fell into step beside him.
"That's... not what I expected. Kind of fabulous, actually," she murmured, watching him.
"Might sound weird, but it's how I feel." They laughed and let the topic drift.
"So, what cuisine?" he asked.
"French," she said immediately.
"Oi — why do you always pick the expensive stuff?" he laughed.
"Fine, fine — sushi." He gave her a thumbs-up.
She slung an arm around his neck, pulling him closer with a grin. "You're so easygoing, Tristian."
"I really love the sushi from this place," she said, blushing, covering her mouth, eyes crinkled with happiness. Tristian's smile faltered halfway through, caught somewhere between her words.
"Eat as much as you want — it's on me," he said, watching her closely. She lit up with every new dish.
"You really love this stuff, huh?"
She paused, something flickering across her face before settling into a bittersweet smile. "Maybe because of my Japanese mother. She used to make great sushi. You should try it sometime—"
Her expression shifted — somewhere far away. "Sandra..." Tristian started, trying to reach her, but she was already lost in thought.
*Her mother wasn't in this world anymore.* The warmth of the meal drained out of her in an instant.
Still, she forced a smile. "Maybe... she taught me how to make it. You should try mine sometime." Her laugh didn't quite land. The silence stretched between them, the table feeling hollow despite the noise around them.
It wasn't just her feeling it. It was his too.
"...She didn't really teach me. I was only seven. I just used to watch her — every day, a different flavor. Even—" Her voice wavered, laugh shaky but light. "When I came home from the funeral, the first thing on the table was sushi."
Her lips trembled. She pressed them together, breath catching — but she didn't let herself cry. She picked up another piece and ate it anyway.
"Geez." She knocked her forehead lightly with her fist. "Sorry — I turned a fun night into something heavy."
He shook his head, took her hands gently in his. "Sandra, it's okay if you cry here. I'm here for you. I wasn't part of your past, but I promise — I won't let it follow you into your present or your future. No matter what."
She nodded, a soft, shaky laugh escaping. "Thank you. I'll remember that — that I have you."
He nodded quietly.