Nadra lingered at the school gate.
Classes were over. The courtyard hummed with students spilling out—laughing, reuniting, scattering like petals on wind. She stood beneath a flowering tree, pretending to type something into her phone, thumb barely moving.
Samantha usually left ten minutes after the bell, never in a rush—always with a soft grace, as if time folded around her.
There she was.
Hair pulled into a low bun, tote slung over one shoulder. She looked tired, but not worn. Just quiet.
Nadra waited until Samantha was halfway down the slope before stepping forward, her timing rehearsed to feel accidental.
"Oh—Miss Lim?"
Samantha turned. "Nadra?"
"I thought I saw you earlier… You heading home?"
Samantha nodded, mild surprise in her face. "Yes, just catching the bus."
"Oh," Nadra smiled casually. "Me too. I stopped cycling. My bike's tyre's flat. Probably dead flat."
Samantha chuckled softly. "Oh no. Is it fixable?"
"Yeah, eventually," Nadra said, heart tapping quick. "But the bus is fine. It's slower. I don't mind."
They walked in near-silence, footsteps mismatched but strangely harmonious. The stop wasn't far—just past the corner bakery and the blue fence with peeling paint.
When the bus arrived, Nadra let Samantha board first, following just close enough to feel the gentle sway of her lavender scent.
They chose a double seat, side by side. The bus was sparsely filled.
Nadra tucked her bag between her knees, glanced out the window, then turned—her voice quiet.
"Miss Lim… can I ask you something?"
Samantha looked up.
"My English's not very good. Like… when I write, it doesn't come out the way it sounds in my head."
Samantha tilted her head. "From what I've read, your ideas are strong. You're expressive. Maybe just a little help refining?"
"I'd like that," Nadra said quickly. "Maybe… extra lessons?"
Samantha didn't answer immediately. She seemed to be weighing something.
"I live close to you," Nadra continued, trying for breezy. "I know you're renting near Merbok Lane. Weekends are good for me. If it's okay for you?"
Samantha gave a small smile. "That might work. I could spare an hour or two on Saturdays. Something casual—just us going through writing pieces?"
Nadra nodded. "That's perfect."
The bus turned a corner. Nadra shifted in her seat, her thigh brushing softly against Samantha's. She didn't pull away.
Samantha didn't either.
It happened again when Nadra leaned slightly to grab the handrail as the bus swayed—her arm grazed Samantha's. The fabric of their sleeves pressed gently together.
Nadra murmured a quiet "sorry," but her voice was soft—almost absent.
She watched Samantha's profile: the curve of her jaw, the faint freckle beneath her cheekbone, the way her lashes fanned out with every slow blink before she turned her head slightly—just enough to catch the fading light through the bus window.
Her lips were relaxed, parted just so, like she'd just exhaled something fragile. The sunlight dipped over her face like it was shy, gilding the edge of her temple, softening the stubbornness in her brow.
Nadra felt the flutter deep in her ribs—unexpected, ridiculous, real.
It was the hush in Samantha's expression, the quiet precision of someone alone with her thoughts, not speaking, not smiling. And yet every stillness seemed to hum.
Like the space between them knew.
The ride was brief, maybe twenty minutes.
But for Nadra, it felt suspended—like something blooming too slowly to name.