Under One Roof of Rain
Chapter 9 – Under One Roof of Rain
Sunday mornings in Singapore were supposed to be quiet.
Not silent–never silent.
But softened.
A little slower.
A little gentler.
Even the MRT stations sounded different on Sundays, like the announcements were less urgent.
The city took a breath.
But Suyin’s phone didn’t.
It buzzed at 7:12am.
Not Clarice.
Not her manager.
Adam.
Morning. You awake?
Suyin stared at the message for a second.
Then she typed back.
Awake. Nervous.
A pause.
Then:
Same. But we follow rules. Meet 9:00. Wear cap. Don’t bring the same tote bag.
Suyin’s mouth twitched.
She typed:
I have other tote bags, okay.
His reply:
Good. Singapore detectives very free.
She laughed softly.
Then she sat up.
The light filtering into her room was pale.
The sky outside was bright but undecided.
It looked like it was waiting to rain.
Of course.
She showered, dressed simply–jeans, a plain oversized shirt, sneakers. She wore a cap and a mask, not because she wanted to hide from him, but because she had learned what it felt like to be recognized in the wrong moment.
She grabbed a different bag.
Just to prove she could.
As she left her flat, her mother texted.
Going out?
Suyin hesitated.
Her thumb hovered.
She typed:
Meeting a friend.
It was true.
Not the whole truth.
But truth, she was learning, had layers.
At the lift lobby, she caught her reflection again.
Cap.
Mask.
The outline of her face hidden.
She looked like a stranger.
She wondered if Adam would recognize her immediately.
Or if she would feel like a character slipping into someone else’s story.
She exhaled.
This was their story.
She reminded herself.
She walked out into the morning.
The community centre Adam had mentioned was one of those places that existed in every neighbourhood but were never talked about.
A building with faded signs.
A sheltered court.
A few elderly residents doing slow tai chi under a pavilion.
A quiet café that served kopi and kaya toast without trying to be trendy.
Suyin arrived at 8:56am.
She sat on a bench under the sheltered walkway that ran along the side of the centre.
It was long.
Clean.
Empty.
The tiles still held the coolness of early morning.
Above, the shelter roof was solid and dependable.
Not aesthetic.
Just practical.
Suyin liked it immediately.
This was not a place anyone would romanticize.
Which meant it was safer.
At 9:01am, a figure appeared at the far end.
Cap.
Mask.
Hands in pockets.
Walking with that familiar, slightly awkward stride that made him look like he was always trying not to be in the way.
Adam.
Suyin’s chest tightened.
Not with fear.
With something quieter.
Relief.
He stopped in front of her.
For a second, they just stared.
Two masked strangers.
Then Adam’s eyes crinkled.
“Nice cap,” he said.
Suyin’s mouth twitched behind her mask.
“You too,” she replied.
Adam sat down beside her, leaving a small gap.
Not because he didn’t want to be close.
Because he was careful.
Because he understood that closeness could be captured.
Even here.
He glanced around.
Empty walkway.
A few old uncles nearby, not paying attention.
A stray cat grooming itself under a chair.
Adam exhaled.
“Okay,” he murmured. “Safe.”
Suyin nodded.
“Safe,” she echoed.
Adam turned to face her.
His voice lowered.
“How was last night after the call?” he asked.
Suyin swallowed.
“I slept,” she admitted.
Adam’s eyes softened.
“Good,” he said.
Suyin hesitated.
“And you?” she asked.
Adam leaned back against the bench.
“I didn’t scroll,” he said. “I did laundry.”
Suyin blinked.
“Laundry?”
Adam nodded solemnly.
“Adult coping mechanism,” he declared.
Suyin laughed, the sound muffled by her mask.
Adam’s gaze softened further.
Then his eyes sharpened slightly.
“Clarice replied,” he said.
Suyin’s laughter died.
Her stomach tightened.
“What did she say?”
Adam’s mouth tightened.
He pulled out his phone and angled it so she could see.
Clarice’s message was short.
LOL relax. It’s just content. You’re overthinking. Anyway you’re famous, you can handle.
Suyin stared.
Her chest tightened with anger.
“It’s just content,” she whispered.
Adam’s jaw clenched.
“Yeah,” he said. “That’s her religion.”
Suyin’s breath shook.
“She doesn’t care,” she murmured.
Adam shook his head.
“No,” he said. “And she won’t stop unless she’s forced.”
Suyin’s chest tightened.
“So what do we do?” she asked.
Adam exhaled.
“We don’t fight publicly,” he said. “We just… make it clear we’re not a toy.”
Suyin swallowed.
“And how?”
Adam hesitated.
Then he said,
“By being boring.”
Suyin blinked.
“Boring?”
Adam nodded.
“We stop giving moments that can be edited,” he said. “We stop feeding anything. We don’t show up in the same place. We don’t let brands push couple content. We just… live. Normal.”
Normal.
Again.
Suyin looked at him.
“Is that what you want?” she asked quietly.
Adam’s gaze held hers.
His voice softened.
“No,” he admitted.
Suyin’s chest tightened.
Adam continued.
“It’s not what I want,” he said. “But it’s what I think we need. At least for now. Until we’re ready.”
Ready.
The word sat between them like a fragile thing.
Suyin swallowed.
“Ready for what?” she whispered.
Adam hesitated.
Then, slowly, he reached up and pulled his mask down.
Not all the way.
Just enough to show his mouth.
He looked at her.
“Ready to be real in public,” he said quietly.
Suyin’s breath caught.
He wasn’t offering romance.
He was offering reality.
And reality was heavier.
She stared at him.
Then she did the same.
She pulled her mask down slightly.
Their faces, finally.
Not fully hidden.
Not fully exposed.
A halfway.
Under shelter.
Adam’s gaze softened as he saw her.
Up close.
Unfiltered.
No studio lights.
No makeup perfection.
Just morning skin and honest eyes.
“You look tired,” he said gently.
Suyin’s throat tightened.
“So do you,” she replied.
Adam’s mouth twitched.
“Yeah,” he admitted. “I’m tired of… pretending I don’t care.”
Suyin went still.
Her chest tightened.
“You care?” she asked softly.
Adam looked away briefly.
Then back.
“Yes,” he said.
One word.
Simple.
But it landed like rain.
Suyin’s eyes stung.
She pressed her fingers together, grounding herself.
“Adam,” she whispered.
He waited.
Suyin inhaled.
“I’m scared,” she admitted. “Not of you. Of what happens if this becomes real.”
Adam nodded slowly.
“Me too,” he said.
Suyin’s throat tightened.
“What if they ruin it?” she whispered.
Adam’s gaze held hers.
“Then we protect it,” he said.
The certainty in his voice made her chest ache.
“How?” she asked.
Adam’s voice softened.
“By keeping it ours first,” he said. “Before it becomes theirs.”
Suyin swallowed.
A line.
Again.
Not an ending.
A boundary.
A shelter.
She nodded.
“Okay,” she whispered.
Adam exhaled, relief in it.
Then he glanced up.
The sky beyond the walkway had darkened.
Clouds gathered suddenly, like someone had pulled a curtain.
Suyin followed his gaze.
And then it happened.
Rain.
Not drizzle.
Proper rain.
It slammed down in sheets, sudden and heavy, as if the sky had been holding it in.
The sound on the shelter roof was immediate–loud, relentless.
Suyin flinched.
Adam laughed softly.
“Singapore very dramatic,” he muttered.
Suyin smiled faintly.
“It knows timing,” she replied.
The rain created a wall beyond the shelter.
The world outside blurred.
Inside the sheltered walkway, they were trapped.
Not in a scary way.
In a quiet way.
A roof of rain.
A pocket of time.
Adam looked at her.
His voice lowered.
“Can I tell you something?” he asked.
Suyin’s heartbeat stuttered.
“Okay,” she whispered.
Adam swallowed.
“I’ve had people ship me with a lot of people,” he said. “I’ve had rumours. Stories. Things that weren’t true. I learned how to ignore.”
Suyin listened, chest tight.
“But this one,” Adam continued, voice soft, “this one is different. Because you’re real.”
Suyin’s breath caught.
Adam’s eyes held hers.
“And because I don’t want to treat you like content,” he said.
Suyin’s throat tightened.
“I don’t want to be content,” she whispered.
Adam nodded.
“I know,” he said. “That’s why… I’m trying to do this properly.”
Properly.
Again.
The word echoed in her chest.
Suyin swallowed.
“What is properly?” she asked softly.
Adam hesitated.
Then, carefully, he reached for her hand.
Not grabbing.
Not pulling.
Just offering.
His palm open beside hers on the bench.
A question without words.
Suyin’s heart pounded.
This was the line.
Touching could change everything.
Touching could become addiction.
Touching could become proof.
But the walkway was empty.
The rain was loud.
The world outside was blurred.
And Adam’s hand was not forcing.
It was waiting.
Suyin stared at his open palm.
Then she slid her fingers into it.
Warm.
Steady.
His hand closed gently around hers.
Not possessive.
Just… present.
Suyin’s breath shook.
Adam’s thumb brushed once over her knuckles.
A small movement.
A spark.
Suyin looked at him.
His eyes were soft.
Focused.
He wasn’t joking.
He wasn’t performing.
He was just there.
Under shelter.
Under rain.
And in that moment, Suyin felt the strangest relief.
Not the relief of finally winning something.
The relief of being held gently in a world that kept grabbing.
Adam’s voice was quiet.
“Is this okay?” he asked.
Suyin swallowed.
She nodded.
“Yes,” she whispered.
Adam exhaled.
“Okay,” he murmured.
They stayed like that for a while.
Hands together.
Rain pounding above.
The world muffled.
Suyin’s phone buzzed in her pocket.
She ignored it.
Adam’s phone buzzed too.
He ignored it.
Private rules.
A shelter.
The rain showed no sign of stopping.
Suyin glanced outside.
“Looks like we’re stuck,” she murmured.
Adam’s mouth twitched.
“Good,” he said.
Suyin blinked.
“Good?”
Adam looked at her.
His voice was soft.
“Because if we’re stuck,” he said, “we don’t have to rush back to the world.”
Suyin’s chest tightened.
She squeezed his hand once, lightly.
Adam squeezed back.
Not a confession.
Not a kiss.
Just a line crossed quietly.
From almost.
To something real.
And under that roof of rain, Suyin realized: sometimes, the safest thing wasn’t hiding.
Sometimes, the safest thing was choosing each other in small ways–quiet ways–until the world lost interest.
Until the storm passed.
Until they were ready.