Short Story: Young At Night

Love is blinding. 

When someone gets into the fluttery zone of love, they are like in a trance and it usually takes a momentous disruption for them to snap out of it.  

The following short story generated by ChatGPT, with editing, serves as wake-up call on love scams targeting not just the elderly, but also the young and in-betweens. Yes, the young and savvy could fall prey to love traps, as well.

To be forewarned is to be forearmed, before it is too late to keep your money.

Image credits: ChatGPT

It started with a sparkle.

Ever since Agnes passed on three years ago, Lawrence had lived quietly in his Clementi flat—days spent reading the Straits Times, sipping kopi-O at the coffeeshop downstairs, and watching children dash around the playground like his own once did. He is 72 years young (not old, he reckons), wiry but sprightly, his hearing a bit dulled, but not his heart.

Then came Sonya.

She first appeared in his life one monsoon night when Lawrence was fiddling with Facebook, mostly to keep up with his grandchildren's photos. A friend request. A beautiful woman in her 40s, with cascading auburn hair and an easy, golden smile.

"Hello, Lawrence. I hope I'm not intruding. You seem like such a kind soul."

They chatted. Then again the next day. And then every night. Her words danced with warmth and laughter. She asked about his life, his meals, even about Agnes—and she never judged.

"You’re different, Sonya," Lawrence once typed, palms slightly sweaty. "It feels like I've known you longer than I’ve been old."

One evening, over coffee at his usual haunt, Lawrence shared his newfound joy with Raymond, a friend from his SAF days. Both widowed, both retired, both wary of the ticking clock.

"Sonya and I—we talk for hours. She wants to come visit. Maybe even settle down here. Can you believe it, Ray? I think I found love again."

Raymond stirred his teh-C slowly, watching the steam rise. "I'm happy that you're happy, Law. But... are you sure? You’ve never met her in person. These online things—”

Lawrence waved it off. “You think I don’t know how to be careful? She’s not like those scammers. She’s real. She showed me her passport. Even cried when I shared about Agnes' final few days.”

Still, Raymond's frown lingered, but he checked himself.

Then came the request like an unexpected blue moon.

Sonya said her aunt was gravely ill and the hospital required upfront payment before they could begin surgery. She had some money, but not enough. If only Lawrence could help—just SGD 20,000. As a loan. No, as a gesture of love.

He stared at the transfer screen one humid morning, fingers trembling slightly, blinking at the long string of digits she had sent.

Then his phone buzzed.

“Lawrence,” came Raymond’s voice, out of breath. “Turn on Channel 8. Now. It’s urgent.”

He fumbled for the remote.

The news anchor was reporting a recent string of love scams targeting elderly Singaporean men. One of the reported scammers matched Sonya's profile picture exactly. The golden smile. The auburn hair. Even the voice clip they played sent shivers down his spine.

Lawrence’s chest tightened. He stared at the paused bank screen. Slowly, he closed his laptop.

He didn’t weep. He didn’t rage. But that night, as the rain tapped gently against his windows, he sat in silence with Raymond, gulping down a bottle of ice cool Tiger beer. He needed something tipsy to numb the pain of happiness dissipating.

“I really thought she saw me,” Lawrence whispered. “Not just the old man. But me.”

Raymond nodded, hand firm on his shoulder. “She didn’t. But I do. So do your grandkids. You’re not invisible, Law. You’re just... lonely. And there are better ways to heal than falling into someone’s trap.”

A week later, Lawrence joined a local photography club for seniors. He started learning how to use a DSLR his son had given him years ago. Slowly, frame by frame, he began to capture the beauty in everyday things—sunlight on hawker stalls, children playing by the canal, and once, a candid shot of a widow with silver-streaked hair who smiled at him shyly from across the workshop table.

He kept that photo.

Thank you for reading Daily Refreshing.