I make my noodles the way a friend once showed me in high school. Back when life felt half-finished and quietly sacred. When afternoons stretched longer than they do now. When we believed we had time to become whoever we said we would be. She told me not to overcook them. “Let them breathe,” she said, as if noodles had lungs. I laughed then. I still hear it sometimes when the water starts to boil. I still strain them the same way. Not because it’s the best method, but because

It is February again. A new month. The future feels unsure in that familiar way, like standing at the edge of something you cannot yet name. Valentine’s Day is approaching, and with it comes that quiet wondering of who will plant flowers in your garden this year. Tonight, I keep thinking about you. You all the way in Kuala Lumpur, doing whatever it is you do when you disappear into your own life. I think about our call, the way it lingered longer than it needed to, the comfor

There are moments when you realise how easily you would have chosen them. How little convincing it would have taken. One message. One missed call. One soft apology whispered through bad reception. You would have packed your life into a small suitcase and told yourself it was romantic, not reckless. You would have boarded a plane with your heart beating faster than the engine, rehearsing what you’d say when you saw their face again. Not the big speech. Just something simple. I