When he reached Noelle's apartment, he hesitated for a second before knocking. She opened the door in one of her oversized T-shirts, hair tied up messily, a pencil still tucked behind her ear.
Her eyes lit up. "You survived the café shift."
"Barely," he said with a small grin, lifting the box like a prize. "But I brought tribute."
Noelle laughed, stepping aside to let him in. "Tribute accepted. What's this?"
"Cake," Ren said, setting it on the coffee table. "Technically leftover stock. But I thought it might be a decent excuse to see you again before the weekend's over."
She arched a brow, trying to hide her smile. "So it's not really about the cake."
He shrugged. "Maybe a little."
As she opened the box, her eyes widened. "This looks way too fancy to be a leftover."
He leaned casually against the counter, feigning innocence. "Guess I picked the right one, then."
They shared the slice between them, half-eaten bites between quiet laughter and teasing about whose turn it was to do dishes next time.
When they were done, Ren reached into his pocket, pulling out a small velvet pouch and setting it beside her plate.
Noelle blinked. "What's this?"
"Just… something I saw while I was running deliveries," he said lightly. "Didn't plan on it. It just… reminded me of you."
She opened the pouch carefully, her fingers brushing against a delicate silver bracelet. It was simple, a thin chain with a small charm shaped like a star.
"Ren," she breathed, looking up. "You didn't have to…"
"I know," he said softly. "I wanted to."
For a moment, neither spoke. Noelle smiled then, not the playful kind but the soft, honest one that made Ren's chest tighten. "Thank you," she whispered, fumbling a little as she tried to fasten the bracelet around her wrist.
Ren reached over. "Here," he murmured, taking her hand gently. His fingers brushed against her skin as he secured the clasp, and when he looked up, she was already watching him. The air between them felt different, quiet and charged.
He smiled faintly. "Do I get something for that?"
She rolled her eyes but before she could come up with a retort, he leaned in and kissed her. It started light, almost teasing but deepened when she didn't pull away. The faint jingle of the bracelet between them felt like a promise neither of them had planned to make but both wanted to keep.
When they finally pulled apart, breath mingling, Ren's mouth curved into a slow grin. "You know," he murmured, brushing his thumb along her jaw, "that chocolate hazelnut cake was really good."
Noelle gave a soft laugh, eyes glinting. "Are you sure it was the cake?"
"Let me taste that again to check," he said and kissed her again.
Ren and Noelle fell back into their familiar rhythm, morning coffees before class, half-finished study sessions that turned into long conversations, quiet dinners in between his café runs. The tension that once hovered between them had softened into something lighter, steadier, though not without its fragile edges.
Sometimes, when Ren picked her up after lectures, she'd catch Mei Ling watching from across the courtyard, eyes full of quiet approval or maybe just relief that things were mending again.
Still, there were moments that reminded Noelle how new this peace was. Like when Ren got a call mid-dinner from one of his outlets and she caught the tired way he pinched the bridge of his nose before stepping away to answer. Or when she noticed a faint coffee stain on his cuff and realised he must've gone straight from work to meet her.
It wasn't perfect but it worked for them.
That Friday afternoon, as they lounged on the floor of her living room, Ren half-asleep beside her, Noelle's phone buzzed with a new message. She reached over lazily, unlocking it and froze.
Han:Hey. I just wanted to say goodbye before I leave for Perth tomorrow. I know things got a bit weird after that night but I hope we're still okay. You've been a great friend, Noelle. Take care of yourself, yeah?
Her fingers hovered over the screen. A mix of guilt and nostalgia tightened in her chest. Han had always been easy to be around until that night. And even though she knew it wasn't her fault, a part of her couldn't stop wondering if she'd somehow given him the wrong impression.
Ren stirred beside her. "Who's that?"
She hesitated, then sighed. "Han. He's heading back to Perth. Just saying goodbye."
Ren's eyes opened slightly, the faintest flicker of something crossing his face, not anger but an alert, careful quiet. "You're gonna reply?"
"I should," she said. "It feels rude not to."
He nodded, sitting up. "Yeah. Makes sense."
Noelle typed slowly. Hey, thanks for letting me know. Safe flight, Han. Take care too. She hit send before she could overthink it.
Ren leaned back against the couch, arms crossed loosely. "So that's it? No more Han?"
She turned to him, catching the trace of tension in his voice. "You sound like you don't believe me," she teased.
Ren raised a brow. "Do I?"
"Mm-hm," she murmured, smirking. "Every time I say his name, your jaw gets tighter."
"Does it?"
Before she could answer, he leaned over and kissed her: slow, deliberate, meant to erase any mention of anyone else.
She laughed against his mouth, pushing lightly at his shoulder. "You're—"
He kissed her again.
"Ren," she said between breathless chuckles, "you can't just—"
Another kiss. Deeper this time.
Her protests dissolved, replaced by a soft sigh as he brushed his thumb along her jaw, his voice low against her lips. "You talk too much when it's about someone else."
Later that night, Noelle curled up on her sofa, the silver bracelet glinting faintly in the lamplight. Her phone buzzed again. She hesitated before picking it up, fingers trembling slightly.
Han:Just landed safely in Perth. Flight was smooth. I'll be back during Christmas, so we'll catch up then. Take care of yourself until then, yeah?
Her chest tightened. She'd been wrapped in the warmth of Ren all evening but reading Han's message made her stomach twist slightly. She hadn't realised how much that small, lingering uncertainty had stayed with her.
She typed a quick reply, fingers hovering. Glad you arrived safely. See you at Christmas.
Even after she set her phone down, unease coiled quietly in her chest. Had she been too eager to reply to Han's messages? Too warm in her words, too familiar in a way that might have made him think she still felt something? Maybe, she admitted to herself, a part of her had, a faint echo of what used to be. But that small, confused pull had vanished the moment he kissed her. Whatever feelings she'd thought might linger were gone, replaced by a clarity that left her both relieved and unsettled.