The Almost
Chapter 7 – The Almost
The thing about private rules was that they worked.
Until they didn’t.
For two weeks after the episode dropped, Adam and Suyin moved like people learning how to live inside a glass house without touching the walls.
They texted, but not too much.
They called, but only when the day got too heavy.
They met, but quietly–once at a coffee shop tucked inside an office building where nobody looked up, once at a library café where the air smelled of paper and nobody had the energy to gossip.
They kept it small.
They kept it careful.
And somehow, in the smallness, it grew.
Not dramatically.
Not in grand declarations.
In the way he remembered she didn’t like too much sugar in her drink.
In the way she reminded him to eat when he forgot.
In the way their laughter became easier.
In the way their silences became comfortable.
It was enough to make her hopeful.
And hope, she was learning, was the most dangerous thing you could carry in public.
The Almost arrived on a Tuesday.
It came disguised as an event.
A harmless thing.
A brand launch at Gardens by the Bay.
A small stage.
A photo wall.
A crowd of invited guests.
It wasn’t even a romantic brand.
It was a tech company announcing a new phone.
Which made the irony almost laughable.
A new camera.
A new lens.
A new way to capture everything.
Suyin hated it the moment she stepped into the venue.
Not because it was glamorous.
Because it was bright.
Too many lights.
Too many people with phones already raised.
She could feel the air buzzing with attention, like static.
Mei adjusted Suyin’s blazer collar.
“Smile,” Mei murmured. “Not too wide. Keep it calm.”
Suyin nodded.
Her heels clicked softly on the floor.
She approached the photo wall.
The photographers called her name.
“SUYIN! HERE! LOOK HERE!”
Flash.
Flash.
Flash.
She smiled until her cheeks ached.
Then she moved inside.
The venue was filled with soft music and polite laughter.
Branded cocktails.
Canapés that looked like art.
People who spoke in networking language.
Suyin tried to stay grounded.
She kept her hands busy.
Held a glass of sparkling water.
Nodded at greetings.
Smiled.
Accepted compliments.
Avoided looking at her phone.
Because she knew.
She knew Adam was here too.
He was part of the same campaign.
A guest host.
A friendly face.
A safe celebrity.
And the organizers had been very excited about it.
They had told her in advance.
“We didn’t plan it,” the PR rep had insisted. “But wah, it’s such a nice coincidence. The public will love it.”
Coincidence.
Suyin had smiled politely.
Inside, she had felt the familiar flare of anger.
Nothing was coincidence anymore.
Everything was content.
She spotted him across the venue.
Adam stood near the stage, speaking to someone from the brand team.
He wore a simple black suit that made him look older, sharper.
His hair was styled neatly.
His face was calm.
Professional.
But when his eyes scanned the room and landed on her, his expression shifted.
Just a fraction.
A softening.
A recognition.
Suyin’s chest tightened.
He began to move toward her.
Then–
A wave of guests stepped between them.
A photographer called out.
“Adam! Over here!”
Adam turned reflexively.
The crowd swallowed him.
Suyin’s breath caught.
She reminded herself: private rules.
She looked away.
Pretended she hadn’t seen him.
It was safer.
She made her way to the side, near a row of indoor plants.
She stood under a warm lamp.
She tried to breathe.
The event started.
The lights dimmed.
The MC’s voice rose.
And then Adam was on stage.
He smiled into the microphone.
He made the crowd laugh.
He spoke about the phone’s camera as if it was a friend.
The audience loved him.
Suyin watched, and a strange tenderness curled in her chest.
This was his world.
The place where he was effortless.
She had admired him from afar.
Now she was standing near the front, watching him in real life, feeling the distance between public persona and private truth.
Adam’s gaze swept the crowd as he talked.
His eyes found her.
He held her gaze for half a second.
The microphone still in his hand.
The smile still on his face.
But something in his eyes changed.
Like he was speaking to her inside the speech.
Suyin’s throat tightened.
Then the moment passed.
Applause.
Flash.
The event shifted into mingling again.
Suyin moved toward the buffet, trying to disappear into normal actions.
Her phone buzzed.
A message.
Adam.
You okay? It’s crowded.
Suyin’s chest warmed.
She typed:
Okay. You were good on stage.
His reply came:
Don’t compliment. Later I become arrogant.
Suyin smiled.
Then she typed:
Too late.
He replied with a laughing emoji.
It felt almost normal.
Almost.
Then the world intervened.
A woman approached Suyin.
She was stylish–long dress, hair perfect, smile sharp.
Suyin recognized her vaguely.
A lifestyle influencer.
One of those people who always seemed to be at every event, always photographed, always trending.
“Suyin!” the woman exclaimed, eyes bright. “Hi! I’m Clarice.”
Clarice.
Suyin forced a smile.
“Hi,” she said.
Clarice leaned in like they were friends.
“Wah, I’m such a fan,” Clarice gushed. “And also–wah, you and Adam… so cute.”
Suyin’s smile tightened.
“Thank you,” she said politely.
Clarice lowered her voice.
“You two are really dating or not?” she asked, eyes gleaming.
Suyin’s stomach sank.
This question.
Always.
No matter the setting.
No matter the event.
Clarice’s phone was in her hand.
Even when she wasn’t filming, it looked like it could start anytime.
Suyin kept her voice calm.
“We worked together,” she said.
Clarice laughed.
“Aiyo, don’t be shy lah,” she said. “Singapore already decide for you.”
Suyin’s throat tightened.
“Singapore doesn’t get to decide,” she replied, still polite.
Clarice’s smile sharpened.
“Ooo,” she said. “Spicy.”
Suyin felt heat rise in her cheeks.
She hated that she was reacting.
She hated that Clarice could read it.
Clarice leaned closer.
“I’m just saying,” she murmured, “if you two confirm, you’ll break the internet. It’s good for both of you. Brands will queue. Couple content is the new gold.”
Suyin’s stomach turned.
Gold.
Everything was gold.
Everything was monetizable.
Suyin forced her smile.
“I’m going to get a drink,” she said.
Clarice grabbed her arm lightly.
“Wait,” Clarice said, voice sweet. “I have to take a photo with you. Quick!”
Suyin froze.
The grip on her arm wasn’t painful.
But it felt like a trap.
Suyin’s heart pounded.
She glanced around.
And saw Adam.
He had stepped off stage and was moving through the crowd.
His gaze landed on her.
On Clarice’s hand on her arm.
Adam’s expression changed.
Not comedic.
Not friendly.
Something darker.
Protective.
He walked over.
Not rushing.
But purposeful.
“Hey,” Adam said, voice calm, smiling at Clarice like a host.
Clarice’s eyes widened.
“Adam!” she squealed. “Wah, perfect timing. I’m just telling Suyin you two are so cute.”
Adam’s smile stayed.
But his eyes slid briefly to Suyin.
Are you okay?
Suyin swallowed.
She nodded faintly.
Adam turned back to Clarice.
“Thank you,” he said smoothly. “But you holding her like she going to run away.”
Clarice laughed.
“Aiyo, she shy!”
Adam’s voice softened.
“Maybe she just tired,” he said.
Clarice’s eyes glittered.
“Oh,” she said. “Then you take care of her lah.”
Clarice released Suyin’s arm.
Then, before Suyin could move, Clarice raised her phone.
“Come,” Clarice insisted. “We take photo. Trio. Cute!”
Suyin’s stomach dropped.
Adam leaned slightly toward Suyin, voice low.
“Do you want?” he asked.
Suyin hesitated.
A photo would become proof.
But refusing would become headlines too.
In Singapore, everything was interpreted.
Suyin forced a small smile.
“Just one,” she said.
Adam nodded.
They posed.
Clarice snapped.
Flash.
Suyin smiled, controlled.
Adam smiled, effortless.
Clarice smiled, triumphant.
The photo was taken.
And Suyin felt the weight of it immediately.
Clarice beamed.
“Okay, I post later,” she announced.
Suyin’s chest tightened.
Adam’s smile remained, but his eyes sharpened.
“Don’t tag her,” he said casually.
Clarice blinked.
“What?”
Adam’s voice stayed light.
“Don’t tag her,” he repeated. “She busy. Later she kena spam. You tag me can. I’m used to it.”
Clarice laughed.
“Aiyo, you so protective,” she teased.
Adam’s gaze didn’t change.
Clarice finally shrugged.
“Okay lah,” she said. “I go say hi to others.”
She walked away, already typing.
Suyin exhaled.
Her arm felt cold where Clarice had held it.
Adam turned to her.
His voice dropped.
“You okay?”
Suyin swallowed.
“I’m okay,” she said.
Adam’s eyes narrowed.
“You say okay too much,” he murmured.
Suyin’s throat tightened.
“It was just a photo,” she whispered.
Adam’s jaw clenched.
“It’s never just a photo,” he said.
Suyin stared at him.
His anger wasn’t at her.
It was at the world.
At the trap.
At the way everything could be twisted.
Suyin’s chest warmed and hurt at the same time.
“Can we go outside?” she asked softly.
Adam blinked.
“Outside?”
Suyin nodded toward the glass doors.
There was a sheltered walkway connecting the venue to another building.
Empty.
Quiet.
Lit softly.
Adam hesitated.
“Rule two,” he reminded her.
Suyin’s lips curved faintly.
“Not obvious spot,” she said. “This one… just walkway.”
Adam studied her.
Then he nodded.
“Okay,” he agreed.
They slipped out.
The sheltered walkway outside the venue was almost empty.
The rain had started again.
Not heavy.
Just a steady drizzle that made the city lights shimmer.
Through the glass walls, Gardens by the Bay glowed faintly in the distance, like a dream version of itself.
The air outside was cooler.
Less noisy.
Adam and Suyin walked a few steps before stopping near a pillar.
The sounds of the event became muffled behind them.
Here, there were no cameras.
Just the hum of distant traffic.
The soft whisper of rain.
Suyin leaned her shoulder lightly against the pillar.
She exhaled.
Adam stood a little too close.
Not touching.
But close enough that she could feel his presence.
He looked at her.
His voice softened.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
Suyin blinked.
“For what?”
“For bringing you into this,” Adam said quietly. “For making your life louder.”
Suyin’s chest tightened.
“You didn’t bring me,” she whispered. “I brought myself. I said your name.”
Adam’s eyes held hers.
“That’s not the same,” he said.
Suyin swallowed.
She didn’t know how to explain it.
How she had admired him.
How she had spoken his name like it was harmless.
How she hadn’t realized what it would cost.
She stared at the wet tiles.
Rain pooled in tiny reflective patches.
Adam’s voice lowered.
“Clarice type people,” he said, “they treat feelings like content. They treat people like campaigns.”
Suyin nodded.
“It’s exhausting,” she admitted.
Adam’s gaze softened.
He stepped a fraction closer.
“Do you want to leave?” he asked.
Leave.
The word felt like relief.
But also dangerous.
Leaving together.
Two celebrities exiting an event.
A security guard might notice.
A photo might be taken.
A story might be born.
Suyin hesitated.
Then she nodded.
“Yes,” she whispered.
Adam exhaled.
“Okay,” he said. “We go separately. Five minutes apart.”
Suyin’s chest warmed.
Practical.
Protective.
Still caring.
She nodded.
“Okay.”
They stood there in the quiet, rain tapping lightly on the roof.
Suyin realized she didn’t want to go back inside.
Not because the event was bad.
Because inside, she had to perform.
Here, she could breathe.
Adam looked at her.
For a moment, his expression softened further.
Like he was about to say something that couldn’t be unsaid.
Suyin’s heart pounded.
She felt the moment pulling.
Like gravity.
The Almost.
She didn’t know what it was.
A confession.
A touch.
A kiss.
Something small that would change everything.
Adam’s gaze dropped briefly to her lips.
Suyin’s breath caught.
Then his eyes lifted back to hers.
His jaw tightened.
He stepped back.
Just a fraction.
Breaking the pull.
Suyin felt it like a sudden cold.
Adam exhaled, voice low.
“Rule three,” he murmured.
Don’t let them push us faster than we want.
Suyin swallowed.
Her chest ached.
Not because he rejected her.
Because he wanted to.
And he was stopping.
For them.
For her.
For safety.
It was restraint.
And restraint, she realized, was its own kind of tenderness.
Suyin forced a small smile.
“Yeah,” she whispered. “Rule three.”
Adam’s eyes softened.
He reached out.
Not to touch her face.
Not to pull her closer.
Just to adjust the edge of her blazer collar where it had shifted.
A quick, gentle movement.
His fingers brushed her skin near her neck.
Suyin felt the touch like a spark.
Adam’s hand withdrew.
He swallowed.
“Go back in,” he said quietly. “Say bye properly. Then leave. I’ll wait.”
Suyin nodded.
She turned.
Took two steps.
Then stopped.
She looked back.
Adam was watching her.
His eyes were soft.
Tired.
And full of something he wasn’t letting himself name.
Suyin’s throat tightened.
“Adam,” she said.
He blinked.
“Yeah?”
Suyin swallowed.
She wanted to say:
I’m falling.
I’m scared.
Don’t leave me alone in this.
Instead, she said the smallest truth she could afford.
“Thanks,” she whispered.
Adam’s gaze held hers.
Then he nodded.
“Always,” he replied.
Always.
The word landed like a promise.
Suyin turned back toward the event.
She walked under the shelter, rain tapping gently above.
Behind her, Adam stayed still.
A quiet figure in the walkway.
A man holding himself back from something he wanted.
Inside, the music swelled.
People laughed.
Cameras flashed.
Clarice’s photo would probably be posted within the hour.
The internet would do what it always did.
But under the shelter of that walkway, Suyin carried something else.
Not proof.
Not content.
Just an almost.
And the ache of knowing that if they ever crossed the line from almost to real, it would not be because the world demanded it.
It would be because they chose it.