The following is a ChatGPT-generated image and short story for your refreshing on the power of making human connection:-
Loraine Tan wasn’t anti-love — she just didn’t think it was necessary.
While her friends scrolled through dating apps and gossiped about “types,” she preferred setting new personal records and mastering handstands. She was a certified physical trainer, owner of a tidy one-room studio apartment in Paya Lebar, and proud of her independence.
Her alarm clock was her ambition; her love language, productivity.
“Marriage?” she’d laugh whenever her mother brought it up. “I don’t even have time to commit to a Netflix series.”
To Loraine, life was about purpose — helping people get stronger, healthier, more confident. That was love enough, she reasoned — the selfless kind that didn’t demand candlelight dinners or good morning texts.
But life, as she would soon discover, loves to sneak its lessons in the least expected places — often under the soft orange wash of a sunset.
The Encounter
It was a Thursday evening. Loraine had wrapped up a long day of clients — three bootcamp sessions, a nutrition consult, and one overly dramatic influencer who insisted kale was “spiritually toxic.”
She decided to unwind with a slow ride along Tanjong Rhu, her favorite stretch of waterfront in Singapore. The air was cooler than usual, the sky streaked with rose and gold. She cycled lazily, letting the rhythm of her pedals calm her.
That was when she saw him.
A man, sitting on a bench near the water’s edge, elbows on his knees, eyes fixed on the horizon. He wasn’t the usual jogger type. Something about the way he sat — still, deflated — caught her attention.
She coasted to a stop, leaned her bicycle against a lamp post, and hesitated.
Then, against her own “mind-your-own-business” instincts, she walked over.
“Hey,” she ventured. “Would you like to talk about it?”
The man blinked, surprised. Then he gave a small, self-conscious smile. “That obvious, huh?”
“Only as obvious as bad form during squats,” she said lightly.
He laughed — a quiet, rusty laugh that sounded like it hadn’t been used in a while. “Fair enough.”
Eric
His name was Eric Lim. Thirty-one. Software developer. Or rather, former software developer. His company had restructured two weeks ago, and he’d been retrenched.
“To make things poetic,” he added, “my girlfriend dumped me the next day. Apparently, I wasn’t ‘ambitious’ enough.”
Loraine winced. “Ouch. Double knockout.”
“Yeah,” he said. “I guess I’m in my post-match recovery phase.”
They talked for almost an hour — about work, life, how everyone in Singapore seemed to be in a race without a finish line. Loraine was surprised by how easily the conversation flowed.
There was something unguarded about Eric. He wasn’t trying to impress her. He wasn’t even trying to smile through his sadness. He was just… real.
As the sun sank into the water, Loraine said, “You know, you’ll bounce back. Maybe not right away, but you will.”
He smiled faintly. “You sound sure.”
“I’m a trainer,” she said. “I believe in recovery. It’s half the work.”
When she got back on her bike, Eric called out, “Hey, thanks for stopping.”
Loraine waved without turning back. “You’re welcome. Try not to mope too hard.”
Unplanned Repeats
The next evening, she cycled by again — “just coincidence,” she told herself.
And there he was, sitting at the same spot, this time holding a cup of teh peng.
He waved. “Oh no, it’s the motivational trainer again.”
She grinned. “And the sad coder still hasn’t moved on?”
That became their thing.
Loraine started timing her rides so she’d pass Tanjong Rhu near sunset. Sometimes Eric would be there with a snack, other times with a new story — about failed interviews, or funny coding memes she didn’t fully understand.
He was awkward, witty, and quietly thoughtful.
She was disciplined, lively, and allergic to self-pity.
Somehow, their contrasts found rhythm.
One evening, Eric showed up in sports attire. “You said exercise helps, right? Teach me how to stop feeling like expired yogurt.”
She burst out laughing. “Fine. But no complaining.”
The first five minutes of jogging had him gasping like a deflated balloon.
“Remind me why people voluntarily do this?” he panted.
“To live longer,” she said.
“At this rate, I’ll die faster.”
She shook her head, amused. “Okay, we’ll start slower. Baby steps.”
That phrase became their motto: baby steps.
Something Changing
Weeks rolled by.
Eric got a few interview callbacks. He seemed lighter now, more like someone walking toward something rather than away from it.
Loraine noticed the change with quiet pride. But she also noticed something else — that she had changed too.
She’d started looking forward to their conversations, to the way he listened without trying to “fix” her thoughts, or how he noticed little details — like when she switched protein brands or when she tied her hair differently.
He wasn’t just kind; he was attentive.
One evening, after they finished a light run, they sat by the waterfront watching dragon boats slice through the river.
“Can I ask something personal?” Eric said.
“Sure.”
“Why are you so against relationships?”
She hesitated, then shrugged. “I’m not against them. I just… don’t need one. People waste so much energy trying to fit into expectations. I’d rather focus on being useful. You know, helping others, doing good work.”
He nodded. “That’s noble. But maybe it’s not either-or.”
She frowned. “Meaning?”
“Maybe being with someone doesn’t make you less of who you are. Maybe it’s like cross-training — you develop different muscles.”
Loraine chuckled. “Trust you to turn love into a fitness metaphor.”
“Hey, I’m learning from the best,” he said, grinning.
Something in his tone made her heart stutter — a feeling she hadn’t felt in years.
Storm Season
A few days later, it rained. Hard.
Loraine considered skipping her ride, but habit won. She went out anyway, raincoat and all.
When she reached Tanjong Rhu, Eric was there under the pavilion, holding two takeaway cups of kopi.
“You’re crazy,” he said, laughing as she parked her bike, drenched.
“I could say the same. You waited?”
“Couldn’t let my coach ride alone in a thunderstorm.”
They sat together, watching the rain hammer the river. The city skyline shimmered through the mist like a watercolor painting.
Eric’s voice softened. “You know, I used to think I needed to prove myself to be happy. Get promoted, earn more, be ‘somebody.’ But lately, I just want peace. And… conversations like this.”
Loraine stared at the rain. “I get that. I thought love was a distraction. But maybe I just didn’t want to risk… slowing down.”
“Maybe slowing down is the point,” he said.
There was silence, the kind that didn’t need filling. Then she said, almost a whisper, “You’re messing with my worldview, you know.”
He smiled. “Good. I owe you at least one life lesson.”
A New Definition
By the time the rain eased, something between them had shifted — not romantic fireworks, but a calm certainty, like a steady pulse.
They didn’t rush into anything.
When she launched her new program — “Stronger Inside Out” — Eric helped her build the app.
“Guess we’re co-trainers now,” he said one evening, adjusting a logo on his laptop.
“Co-trainers,” she repeated, smiling. “Not bad.”
Sometimes he’d show up early for her sessions, pretending to “help set up mats,” but really just to chat before the crowd came.
They weren’t dating, not officially. But the connection was undeniable — easy, grounded, real.
The Second Sunset
Months later, they returned to that same bench at Tanjong Rhu where it all began.
Eric brought along two cups of coconut water.
Loraine leaned her bike against the rail, the evening breeze brushing her face.
“Feels strange,” she said, “how everything changed and nothing did.”
“Yeah,” he agreed. “Except now, you let yourself slow down.”
She smiled. “Maybe I needed to meet someone who didn’t rush me.”
The sky was melting into shades of gold and lavender.
Eric turned to her. “So, Loraine Tan — still not interested in dating?”
She tilted her head. “Let’s just say… I’m open to meaningful partnerships. With strong emotional core muscles.”
He laughed. “Is that a proposal or a fitness challenge?”
“Maybe both,” she said with a grin.
And as the sun dipped below the skyline, the air filled with quiet warmth — not the blazing kind that burns fast, but the steady glow that stays, even after the day ends.
Epilogue: Love, Redefined
And so, every now and then, when the sun set at Tanjong Rhu, she and Eric would sit by the water — not to plan or promise, but simply to be.
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