"Kidlathea," Sandra called, approaching the table. Kidlathea looked up at her with that sweet smile. Jovan tensed, glancing between them repeatedly, sipping his tequila. "This keychain — you left it on the train."
"Oh, goodness — I thought I'd lost it, Sandra."
"Well, I tend to look after your things." Sandra said, leaning slightly toward her. Kidlathea blushed behind her hand. "If you're done with your lovey-dovey service, you can leave now." Jovan cut in, raising a hand.
Kidlathea looked at him, confused. Sandra shot him a look. "That was rude. I was just talking to my friend."
"Yeah — you shouldn't talk to her like that, babe." Kidlathea said, sliding his hand down. He tried to communicate with his eyes, but that woman only spoke Filipino love — none of his silent signals got through.
Sandra smirked at him, every bit of it hidden from Kidlathea.
"Are you going to Jurong East tonight?" Sandra asked. "Mm — for a ceremony. Do you want to come along?" Kidlathea leaned in, nudging her with a raised brow, smiling. Sandra chuckled. Jovan burned quietly.
"Oi — you took the words right out of my mouth!"
"Ah-ha. Did I?"
"Yes. Absolutely." Sandra answered immediately. "So should we board the train together?" she finished. Kidlathea's lips parted — but before she could speak, Jovan cut in.
"Absolutely not. I'm driving to Jurong East and she's coming with me." Sandra went quiet, scanning him slowly. Kidlathea looked thoroughly puzzled by his behavior. "What's wrong with you? I know she's going with you — I was just asking casually." Sandra said.
"Yeah, babe — do you have a problem with Sandra? Why are you acting like this?" Kidlathea asked.
At this point, both Jovan and Sandra were quietly stunned — Sandra realizing that Jovan had never told Kidlathea about their past, and Jovan realizing he'd just exposed that gap wide open.
Sandra gave a slow nod, glancing at him. He ran a hand through his hair.
"I'm just stating a fact, babe," he said.
"Stating? You were being rude to her." Kidlathea defended. Sandra looked at her, mesmerized, blushing behind her hand. Ahha~ crush support~. Control, Sandra.
"Exactly — you were being rude." Sandra activated the moment Kidlathea shielded her. Jovan arched his brow, staring at Sandra. "That's enough, Sandra." His voice dropped, rough and low — and she went quiet immediately, remembering she was talking to her ex, not some college friend.
From behind, Glenda walked over, looping her arms around Sandra's neck and resting her chin on her shoulder.
"Hey, Kidlathea. And... Jovan." Her enthusiasm dropped the moment his name left her mouth. He noticed, gave a brief nod. "Done getting your afternoon vitamin D, Glenda?" Kidlathea laughed.
Glenda, slightly embarrassed, answered, "Oh. Please, Kidlathea."
"Afternoon vitamin D," Sandra echoed, teasing. Glenda buried her head against Sandra's shoulder. "Ugh — don't start." Kidlathea and Sandra laughed, snapping their fingers in the air while Jovan sat there, invisible to all of them.
Sandra saw the couple off. She turned to Glenda. "I'm not chasing Kidlathea anymore."
Glenda's eyes went wide, as though she'd just heard something physically impossible. She looked Sandra up and down. "What are you talking about? Did that bastard Jovan drug you?"
Sandra chuckled. "No. It's just... Kidlathea is so into him, and she's genuinely looking for our friendship. If I confessed, she wouldn't be able to stand it." She looked at Glenda with a bittersweet smile. "You were right. I can never have her, Glenda."
"Hey, Sandra... I never meant it like that, woman."
"No, no — don't blame yourself. I just realized it late. But I'm not sad. At least we're friends."
"Ay, woman ~ that's so you."
***
Sandra stood at the company entrance, sipping orange juice as the busy Bugis evening darkened around her.
Her phone vibrated.
Tristian: Where are you?
Sandra: At the company.
Tristian: I need your help at the café.
Tristian: So crowded today.
Sandra: Aha~ I'd be very glad to serve my puppy man~
Tristian: ....
Tristian: You can never speak straight, woman.
Sandra: Just kidding. I'll be there in 5.
Tristian: Okay~
Glenda appeared beside her, brows narrowing, trying to figure out what was making Sandra smile like that. She leaned in. "Who's the guy making you blush, Old Woman?"
Sandra shot her a look. "I told you not to call me that, Glenda."
"And I told you I can't stop myself."
"Tsk. Whatever — I'm heading to a café." She started walking, but Glenda grabbed her hand. "Tristian? I want to come too~"
"...Fine."
They drove over. In no time they were standing outside his café, glancing at each other, then walking in. The bell rang overhead. Tristian looked up from the counter, a warm, welcoming smile already on his face.
"Welcome~" he said, waving.
They exchanged a look, smiling back. "He's just like you — no difference at all," Glenda teased.
"At least he's nothing like you," Sandra shot back.
They both leaned against the counter. "You're smiling like you're welcoming us — didn't you call me here for free labour?" Sandra said.
"Woa — if I'd known that, I'd never have come," Glenda added. Sandra silenced her with a death glare.
"Doesn't matter now — since you're both here, help me out." Tristian said. "Sandra, take orders as usual. Glenda, serve them. I'll handle the rest."
Glenda and Sandra looked at each other and said in unison, "Ay ay, captain." Tristian chuckled, thumbs-up.
The orders began. That genuine, welcoming energy never drained from Sandra — with every new customer, her warmth only grew.
"One medium latte, please." A woman in a floral dress spoke softly, smiling. Sandra nodded, typing it in.
"Any food alongside?"
"Um — what would you recommend?" Sandra blinked. "Sorry? That's my line."
"I'm new here — I don't know what goes well with a latte." Sandra's brows lifted as she understood. "Then I'd recommend blueberry muffins. Should I add those?"
"Yes, that would be great."
Meanwhile, Glenda was completely done for — leaning against the only available patch of wall, barely breathing. She glanced over at Sandra.
"Glenda, order!"
"Jesus..." she muttered. "Let me breathe at least! Goddammit."
And so it continued — orders and deliveries, non-stop, until nightfall. Completely devastated and counting their last breaths, Sandra collapsed into one chair and Glenda into another.
"Ay, Tristian — after everything we did tonight, I'm not leaving without pay." Glenda babbled, trying to sit upright. Tristian set an iced latte in front of Sandra and a vanilla latte in front of Glenda. "Yeah, yeah — I hear you, Madame."
"Oh — how did you know I like vanilla latte?" Glenda perked up. Sandra glanced over. "I told him."
"I thought you didn't know anything about me beyond my surname. Not bad."
"Tristian, take her cup away."
"Hey, Sandra!"
"Calm down, girls."
***
"Drive home safely, okay?" Glenda said, stepping out of the car. Sandra nodded briefly and drove off. Glenda stood there until the car was swallowed into the dark.
The whole journey home was calm, still, and strangely long. It was already past 11 PM. Sandra's eyes kept drifting over the windshield, making sure she was on the right route.
Then her phone rang — nearly jolting her soul out of her body. Glancing between the road and the screen, she picked up without checking the caller ID.
"Yes?"
"Sweetheart, are you coming home?"
"Uhm — mom, I'll come by tomorrow. I'm driving to my condo right now."
"Oh, okay, sweetheart. Call me when you get there, okay?"
"Yeah, yeah, mom."
She hung up. And as her eyes returned to the windshield, her heart slammed so violently she had to brake the car. It screeched to a stop. Her body went rigid. Her eyes flew wide open. She looked again through the windshield.
A silhouette — tall, cold, unmoving — stood in the distance. A hat sat over a figure dressed entirely in black, half-swallowed by the dark.
Sandra fought to pull in a single breath. Her gaze refused to drift even for a second. She reluctantly unlocked the car door and stepped out, torch in hand.
"Who's there? Are you... alright?" Her lungs barely cooperated.
She switched on the torch, sweeping the beam upward from the ground — slow, bottom to top. As the light reached the figure's hand, her heart dropped.
A severed head hung from that pale fist.
Sandra didn't take another step. The torch slipped from her hand and she sprinted back to the car, locking every door, every latch she could reach.
Her breath spiked. Her lungs screamed. She gripped the steering wheel — then looked up.
"AAH!"
***
Silvanus Residency.
The house sat in perfect peace and quiet — until one phone call changed everything.
The telephone rang once. Mr. Silvanus waved it off. "Probably nothing. Leave it." Andrew, watching television, didn't even spare it a glance. Things settled back to normal.
It rang again. Mrs. Silvanus shook her head. "Random call, honey — ignoring it." The two of them laughed softly at their shared routine. Andrew got up and headed to the refrigerator.
It rang a third time. Andrew stopped mid-step.
Before his parents could launch into their usual dismissal, he picked up.
"Yes, Silvanus Residency."
Ragged, frightened breathing filled his ear. Voices, movement, whispers in the background. His brows pulled together. Before he could speak, a woman's voice came through the line.
"Is this Sandra Silvanus's home address?"
"Y— yes. Did something happen to Sandra? Is she alright? Is she okay?"
A brief silence fell. Andrew's anxiety surged. His parents rushed to him, reading his face, trying to understand.
Then the voice returned, quieter. "Sandra... was involved in an accident. By the time the police and emergency services arrived... Sandra was found dead."
The silence that followed was total. Every sense he had went blank. He shook so hard he collapsed to the floor. His mother screamed his name, trying to catch him. His father took the phone, pressing it to his ear — only to hear the words that finished what was left.
"We are sorry. We couldn't save Sandra."
What that family went through in the hours that followed was too brutal to put into words.
Sandra Silvanus was dead.