Chapter 3: Unmistakably a Date
It was Saturday evening, and Jade was thirty minutes early. Unusual for her, even by her own standards. She blamed the nervous anticipation—or the inexplicable fact that she’d tried on five different tops, only to end up in the first one.
They had agreed to meet at The Glasshouse, a stylish café tucked away in a colonial building near Dhoby Ghaut. Urban jungle aesthetic, hanging ferns, and impossibly hip baristas who looked like they moonlighted as vinyl DJs—it was the kind of place that said: this is unmistakably a date.
Lucas arrived at 7:03 PM, wearing that same crinkled linen shirt from their first meeting, like it had become his signature look. Jade, sipping her oat latte, arched an eyebrow.
“You’re three minutes late,” she said.
“I came early, then circled the block so I wouldn’t seem too eager,” he admitted, sliding into the seat across from her. “But apparently, I underestimated your punctuality obsession.”
Jade smirked. “Your mistake was assuming I wouldn't weaponize it against you.”
“Noted,” he said, grinning. “I’ll just be unshakably charming to make up for it.”
They ordered food—truffle eggs for her, some confusingly deconstructed chicken rice for him—and the conversation turned to travel, family, the absurdity of dating apps, and the one time Jade accidentally submitted a photo of her foot instead of her portfolio to a client (“Unintentionally tragic,” she said, face in hands).
“You know,” Lucas said after a beat, swirling the ice in his matcha soda, “I had a backup plan in case this went awkwardly.”
“Oh?”
“I was going to pretend I got an emergency call and had to leave to rescue my cat.”
“You have a cat?”
“Unfortunately, no. But I’m prepared to adopt one for the bit.”
She laughed, nearly snorting. “That’s... unreasonably committed.”
They lingered even after the plates were cleared, sipping slowly, watching other couples come and go, all with that same invisible bubble around them that said We’re not just hanging out.
Outside, the sky had turned velvet, and city lights blinked into view like sequins on a designer gown. They strolled down the sidewalk, brushing shoulders now and then, both aware and pretending not to be.
At the crossroads, they paused.
“So,” Lucas said, stuffing his hands in his pockets, “does this count as our first real date?”
Jade looked up at him, her face half-shadowed by the streetlamp.
“I think it counts,” she said. “Undeniably.”
He grinned. “Then would it be too forward if I said I’d like there to be a second?”
Her reply was slow, deliberate. “Only if you promise not to get another gal while I’m in the washroom.”
Lucas laughed, holding up two fingers. “Scout’s honour.”
They stood there, neither quite willing to walk away yet. Something had shifted—something unspoken, but powerful. A quiet energy crackling between them.
A car honked in the distance. The moment stretched, like a camera’s slow shutter capturing something fleeting.
And as Jade turned to go, she glanced over her shoulder with a smile that was just a little unguarded, a little unguessable.
Lucas watched her disappear around the corner, grinning to himself. This time, he didn’t have to circle the block. He knew exactly where he wanted to be.
Chapter 4: Unintended Consequences
Their second date was meant to be chill.
“Let’s do something low-key,” Lucas had texted. “No fancy cafés, no performance pressure. Just good food and a walk?”
Jade had agreed, suggesting Newton Food Centre—because if a guy couldn’t survive sambal stingray and sweating under fairy lights, he wasn’t relationship material.
They met on a humid Friday evening. Jade wore a tank top and cargo pants, her camera slung casually over one shoulder—just in case inspiration struck. Lucas showed up in a t-shirt that said I Came for the Carbs, already slightly damp from the humidity.
“I like the vibe,” she said.
“I like that you pretend you don’t judge t-shirts,” he shot back, grinning.
They settled at a busy table, dodging pushy vendors with menus the size of yoga mats. They ordered oyster omelette, BBQ chicken wings, satay, and—at Lucas’s insistence—char kway teow with extra cockles.
That’s when it got… messy.
First, Lucas accidentally flung a piece of omelette directly onto Jade’s jeans.
She looked down. “Is this some kind of modern courtship ritual?”
“It’s an unintentional offering,” he said, horrified, dabbing at the stain with a napkin like a man attempting surgery with a paper towel.
Then came the seafood.
Lucas, valiantly trying to pry open a stubborn cockle, applied too much pressure and launched it across the table. It ricocheted off Jade’s camera lens with a tiny but insulting plink.
She blinked. “Is this a war crime?”
“I am… unequipped for shellfish diplomacy.”
“I can see that.”
They burst out laughing. It was the kind of ridiculous that couldn’t be staged. Jade loved it.
Until.
Lucas began to look… odd. Sweaty, pale.
“You okay?” she asked, halfway through a skewer of satay.
He cleared his throat. “Yeah, just a little, uh… itchy.”
Her eyes narrowed. “How itchy?”
He scratched his neck. “Like... my ancestors are trying to crawl out of my skin.”
Jade’s satay hit the table. “Lucas. Are you allergic to shellfish?”
“Not… fatally,” he said, scratching harder. “Just uncomfortably.”
“Why did you eat cockles?! You literally ordered extra.”
“I didn’t want to look like a weakling in front of you!”
“Oh my gosh,” she muttered. “You’re trying to impress me into anaphylaxis?”
They left the table in a flurry of apologies and tissues, Jade flagging a cab while Lucas tried not to turn into a human balloon.
At the pharmacy, they waited for his antihistamines to kick in. Lucas, still blotchy but improving, looked at her.
“Well,” he said hoarsely, “this was undoubtedly a memorable night.”
She stared at him. Then burst out laughing. “You’re an idiot.”
He grinned. “But a charming one?”
She sighed, handing him his drink. “An idiot with potential.”
As the night wore on and Lucas’s hives calmed, they ended up walking the long way back to the MRT, talking under the blinking streetlights, their shoes crunching over fallen leaves and stray peanut shells.
Messy? Yes.
Unexpected? Definitely.
Over? Not even close.
Because despite everything—shellfish, stains, and almost-hospital visits—Jade was smiling. And maybe, just maybe, so was her heart.
Chapter 5: Unveiling Intentions
It was a balmy Sunday evening when Jade decided to bring in the cavalry.
She hadn’t said it out loud—but after CocklesGate and a surprisingly sweet recovery walk, something about Lucas had lodged itself into the back of her mind like a melody she couldn't shake.
She needed a second opinion.
Enter Sabrina and Jeff. Her married-for-four-years, suspiciously well-adjusted best friends. Sabrina had a sixth sense for fake charm, and Jeff had a quiet, tactical way of observing people like he was screening them for a spy mission.
If Lucas could survive this dinner, Jade figured he might actually be worth keeping around.
They met at PS.Cafe by the bay—the one nestled into the greenery near One Fullerton, overlooking the glowing Merlion and Marina Bay Sands, a place classy enough to impress without screaming I’m trying too hard.
Lucas arrived early, this time wearing a collared shirt and carrying a small paper bag. “Peace offering,” he said, handing Jade a slice of banana cake. “For last week’s seafood incident.”
“You’re slowly bribing your way into forgiveness,” Jade said, but her smile betrayed her amusement.
Inside, they found Sabrina and Jeff already seated, sipping cocktails and relaxing with a hint of anticipation to be acquainted with Lucas.
“Lucas, meet the dream team,” Jade said. “Sabrina and Jeff—Jeff and Sabrina, meet the man who nearly died eating cockles to impress me.”
Lucas laughed. “That makes me sound way more dramatic than I—wait. No. That’s actually accurate.”
Sabrina offered a polite smile that was only slightly interrogative. “So. You’re the guy she actually texted about twice in one week.”
Jeff just nodded. “Welcome to the gauntlet.”
Dinner began light—small talk, food orders, a brief detour into how Jeff still couldn’t cook rice properly after four years of marriage. But the subtext? Oh, it was unrelenting.
Sabrina eased into her sussing mode like a panther in Prada.
“So, Lucas. What do you really do?”
“I’m in branding and design,” Lucas said, unfazed. “Freelance, like Jade. Mostly visual identity work. Logos, campaigns. Occasionally help startups look less like bad PowerPoint decks.”
“Hmm,” Sabrina replied, eyes narrowing slightly. “Stable clients?”
“Not always,” he admitted. “But I prefer uncertainty over a cubicle.”
That earned a small approving nod from Jeff. “Fair.”
Jade sat back, quietly pleased. Lucas was holding his own.
“And what about… relationship history?” Sabrina asked bluntly, sipping her wine.
Lucas blinked, then smiled. “That’s a third-date question, isn't it?”
Sabrina shrugged. “Call it outsourcing.”
Jade cut in before things got too intense. “Speaking of outsourcing—I've got a new client. Big one. Event photography for a boutique hotel reopening in Sentosa.”
“Ooh,” Sabrina leaned forward. “Wait, Coastal Eleven?”
“Yup,” Jade said, grinning. “Three-day shoot, interiors, lifestyle, live music. If I pull this off, they’re putting me on retainer.”
Jeff whistled. “Look at you, boss lady.”
Lucas looked genuinely impressed. “That’s huge. You’re killing it.”
“Trying,” she said, suddenly a little bashful. “Just... doing my thing.”
“Doing it exceptionally well,” he added.
Sabrina shot her a look. That look that said: Okay. He passed round one.
By the time dessert rolled around, things had eased. The wine flowed, Jeff cracked his signature quiet-deadpan jokes, and Sabrina, ever the interrogator, finally leaned back with a contented sigh.
When Lucas excused himself to the restroom, Sabrina leaned in. “Okay. I like him.”
“That’s it?” Jade asked, feigning shock. “No red flags? No passive-aggressive metaphors?”
“Not yet. But I’m watching him,” Sabrina said with a grin. “Still. He listens, he’s not defensive, and you… like him.”
Jade looked down at her fork. “Yeah,” she admitted. “I really do. It’s... unfamiliar, but nice.”
Jeff clinked his glass lightly. “Just remember—if he hurts you, I know a guy with a boat.”
“Untraceable?” Jade asked.
“Untraceably parked in Johor.”
They all laughed as Lucas returned, sliding back into his seat like he’d always belonged there.
Jade caught his eye. He smiled.
And in that tiny moment—surrounded by friends, city lights reflecting off the bay, the Merlion still doing its bizarre water-spouting thing—she wondered if this was the part where something real began.
Something undeniable.
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