Chapter 2: Morning Glance
The sun had just started to rise when I stepped out of my unit. Sengkang mornings were usually quiet — the faint hum of air conditioners, the occasional rustle of leaves in the breeze, and the distant sound of the LRT passing by. It was peaceful, almost too quiet.
I rounded the corner toward the lift lobby and saw her standing there.
She was looking at her phone, her hair still damp from a shower, tied up in a messy ponytail. She wore a grey tank top that hugged her body just enough, and black FBT shorts — simple, no-nonsense, but she looked effortless. Comfortable.
Her figure was slim, but the way her shorts fit made her curves impossible to miss. Her chest, maybe a C cup, filled out the tank top perfectly, but there was nothing overt about it. She wasn’t trying to catch anyone’s eye. And yet, I couldn’t stop looking.
“Morning,” I said, trying to sound casual.
“Morning,” she replied, her voice soft. She looked up at me, and for a split second, I caught her gaze. It lingered for just a moment longer than usual before she looked away, but it was enough for me to notice. Something had shifted.
We stood there in silence as we waited for the lift. When it arrived, she pressed “1,” and I didn’t need to press anything.
The doors slid shut, and we stood side by side.
I stole a quick glance at her reflection in the mirror. She was standing relaxed, arms crossed loosely over her chest, bag slung over her shoulder. Her skin still looked fresh, like she’d just stepped out of the shower, and I could faintly smell something clean — green tea or maybe something floral.
“Going for a jog?” I asked, trying to make conversation.
She shook her head slightly. “Just a walk. It’s too hot to run these days.”
I chuckled. “I hear you. It feels like you’re walking through a sauna sometimes.”
She smiled, just a little, and the soft laugh she let out was unexpectedly charming.
The lift doors opened on the ground floor, and we stepped out together. I held the door open for her as a habit, and she gave me a small “Thanks.”
“No problem,” I muttered.
She paused for a moment at the footpath junction, looking down the way toward the park.
“I usually walk toward the park,” she said. “It’s quieter there, away from the crowds.”
“Sounds peaceful,” I said, watching her. “Good place to clear your head.”
She gave a small nod, slipped an earpiece into each ear, and started walking toward the path that led to the park.
Her steps were steady, unhurried, as if she wasn’t rushing anywhere. The faintest breeze lifted her ponytail, and I watched as she disappeared down the path.
I stood there for a moment, unsure of what to do.
There was something about the way she moved, the way she seemed at ease in her own space, that left me feeling like I needed to know more. It wasn’t flirtation, not yet. But something about her had caught my attention in a way I couldn’t ignore.
To be continued...