Silas doesn’t believe in fate—he believes in friction points where two paths intersect despite design. As a lead urban planning storyteller for Singapore’s Heritage Transit Corridors, he spends his days plotting how people move through memory-laden spaces like Arab Street’s perfume alleyways or the breeze-blocked hush near Cuff Road flats. But his nights? Those are for mapping something unbuildable: the emotional topography of lost love, lingering glances, the way a woman once laughed on the last MRT train to Punggol and how that laugh still echoes in his private sketches. He designs immersive dates not as spectacle, but as emotional archaeology—unearthing a person’s hidden desires through scent trails in abandoned libraries or soundscapes of rain played backward beneath overpasses.He lives in a converted loft above an old municipal archives building in Bugis, where the walls are papered with translucent city plans lit from behind, casting blue veins across his skin at night. Every morning, he walks the same path to Bras Basah MRT, but since she came into his life—another architect of quiet intensities—he has begun taking detours: lingering at a kopitiam where she once left a note in a vintage edition of *The Sea and the Silence*, or waiting at a different platform just to see if she’d appear. Their romance began with a handwritten letter slipped under his door: *You map every route but your own heart. Care to get lost with me?*His sexuality is not loud but deep—a current beneath calm surfaces. He once made love to her during a tropical downpour on the rooftop greenhouse above the National Library, steam rising from their skin as orchids bloomed around them in timed bursts of mist. He remembers how she tasted—lychee and salt—and how her fingers traced the scar on his jaw like it was part of an urban legend only he could tell. For Silas, desire blooms where precision fails: when schedules blur and buildings fade into silhouette.He still carries the matchbook she gave him—the one with coordinates inked inside that led to a hidden jazz bar beneath a 1950s tailor shop. Now it rests in his locket. His grandest dream? To project her favorite poem across the façade of City Hall during dawn tide, synced with river reflections so words float like breath above water.