My Forbidden Affair with the Orange Next Door
Episode 1
The day my new neighbour moved in, I knew something was suspicious. All their windows were fully meshed. The door also meshed.
Maximum security setup. I thought, “Wah… what are they keeping inside?”
A few days later, I saw them assembling a giant cat tree in the living room. I whispered to myself, “Ooooooh… they got cat.”
But strangely, I never saw him. I could smell cat energy. You know that feeling? The air feels fluffy. Then one morning, before heading to AMK-Bishan Park, I looked up and THERE HE WAS. Sitting on his treehouse throne. Orange. Majestic. Slightly chonky. Watching the world like he pays property tax.
Our eyes locked. For a few seconds. Too long to be accidental.
In that moment, I’m quite sure he sensed it. “A crazy cat lady is living next door.”
For a few days, we just stared at each other like two introverts in different countries. Then one day, I blinked slowly. He blinked back. A soft, gentle blink. And my heart just… collapsed.
If you know cats, you know. That slow blink is not casual. That is emotional commitment.
Then came The Incident. One afternoon, the owner was not at home. He was at his usual spot. I walked closer to the window. He stood up immediately. Alert. Interested. I stretched my hand towards the mesh. He stretched his paw.
Our hands touched. Through the grill.
Like some Romeo-and-Juliet-but-HDB-edition tragedy. It was sealed. We are now emotionally entangled.
The next day, he stretched his long orange head forward and allowed me to pat him. Stroke his neck. Gosh. We are impossible lovers.
He lives in # 137
I live in # 139
Our main doors are just opposite each other, between us: mesh, grilles, and social boundaries.
But when he slow blinks at me? Nothing else matters.
February 2026
Episode 2
I was doing my work in the living room, my main door was open. I like to keep the door open when I’m working there — it lets the fresh air come in. Then I heard it.
A soft, soothing meow. Not once. Several times.
Suddenly I stopped. I know that voice. I quietly got up, crawled over to the side of the door, and peeked outside.
And behold! There he was. Standing just at the meshed door across the corridor, looking straight at me. So regal. So handsome. Eyes big and shining.
When he saw me, he meowed louder, as if saying: “There you are… where have you been?”
And our conversation began. I asked him gently, “Well… well hello there neighbour. Good to see you in your full form, standing like that.”
He replied with a very long: “Meeeeeeeeow.”
As if I understood completely. But still I had to reply: “So how has your day been in there?”
He gave not one, but two long meows.
Just when I thought we were about to have a very nice conversation, he suddenly looked to the side and rushed off.
Then I heard the voice of the lady master: “Who are you talking to?”
Immediately I pulled back and returned to my work.
It felt exactly like two forbidden lovers caught red-handed.
Someone once asked me, “Why don’t you just go over to the couple and say hi? Who knows, they might let you play with the cat.”
I have thought about that too. But you know… I suspect the wife already knows that there is a crazy cat lady living next door. And the one time she saw me, she suddenly became very protective of her cat.
As you know how cats are. You buy them the best toys. The best scratching post. The most luxurious cat bed. And where do they prefer to be? Under the table. Or worse. Running over to the neighbour’s house and refusing to come back. Which is probably what she is afraid of.
And honestly… I understand her concern. Because if that orange fellow ever manages to escape the mesh and cross the corridor… I cannot guarantee he will find his way home again.
So while continuing with my work, suddenly this mind started working. The mind of the crazy cat lady.
What if… This mind whispered. What if I just quietly slipped a small notice into their letterbox? Something very simple. “Pet sitter available in your block. Cat lover. Call this number.” Very innocent. Very professional.
But then I started imagining the other scenario. Me knocking on their door. “Hello neighbour! I’m a pet sitter. If you ever go on holiday, I don’t mind coming in to pet sit your cat.”
Immediately I imagined the wife’s face. Alarm bells ringing. Security level upgraded from Maximum Security Mesh to National Emergency Lockdown. Because honestly, if a neighbour came to my door and said that, I would also think: This one got agenda.
Also, it slightly reminds me of those horror stories. You know. The babysitter. The nice friendly babysitter. The one who slowly becomes too attached to the child. Except in this case, it’s not a child. It’s a very handsome orange cat from #137.
So maybe introducing myself directly is not a good idea. Better to be subtle. Very subtle. Just a small, harmless leaflet in the letterbox. Nothing suspicious. Nothing dramatic.
Just a simple message: “Pet sitter available in your block.” And then… we see what happens. Because sometimes, in matters of love— especially forbidden corridor love— one must be patient. Very patient.
EPISODE 3
Yesterday… it finally happened. The door opened… and like a prisoner who had memorised the rhythm of freedom, he ran. Not a hesitation. Not a glance back. Straight out.
He bolted… straight towards the staircase.
Freedom.
His humans panicked. They ran after him, calling, chasing and just in time… they caught him.
Of course, I heard everything.
My main door was open…and doing my work at the living room, but I didn’t step out. Dont want to make it so obvious.
Yes… this is exactly what I expected.
Because you see… I understand the mind of a cat.
You can keep them indoors.
You can buy them the best toys.
You can give them gourmet food, soft beds, and endless affection…
But the moment they see the world outside, the birds, the wind, the unknown, something ancient awakens in them.
And they will find a way. Always, because you cannot silence that pull. The world outside is calling.
I just… peeked from the side of the door. Quietly. Carefully. (One must maintain standards, after all.)
And then I saw them… bringing him back up the stairs. And then, he looked at me. Those eyes. Not wild. Not scared. But something else… Something that felt almost like, pleading.
As if to say, “You understand, don’t you?”
So now… I wait. I wait for the day. The day when he goes missing… And I “accidentally” find him. And in that moment, I already know what I will do.
I will carry him home. Quietly. Secretly.
And when my husband and daughter look at me, pleading, negotiating, questioning my sanity: “Return the cat,” they will say.
And I will look at them… and refuse.
Because some love stories… are simply meant to be complicated
May 2026
For the past few days, I’ve been walking up and down the corridor… hoping to catch a glimpse of him, but he’s not there. Not at his usual tree house nor at the spot.
I was getting upset and concern.
Then yesterday… I saw the window open. The window beside the cat house. The one he normally climbs through before waiting there like some orange Romeo.
So naturally…I peeked in. The house was empty, and goodness me.
The living room is so messy. These young people ah… don’t they know how to tidy up their house? Clothes everywhere. Shoes nowhere near the shoe rack. And the socks…
THE SOCKS STILL ON THE FLOOR.
Absolute chaos, but my eyes were searching for only one thing.
The orange cat. And then…there he was. Stretched out on the sofa in full glory… like how cats do when they trust the entire universe. One paw out. Tummy exposed. Completely relaxed.
I stood there looking at him…Longing to run my palm across that fluffy orange tummy.
Then suddenly, a voice behind me. My husband.
“What are you doing?”
“Looking at the cat.”
“You cannot simply peek into other people’s house like that.”
“But the window is open… and I’m not doing anything harmful. I’m just looking at the cat.”
From down the corridor, my daughter shouted: “Maaaaaa… the lift is here!”
Just then, the orange one opened his eyes…and looked at me. Slowly, he got up, preparing to move towards the tree house.
But by then, I had already started backing away. I waved goodbye to him…then ran towards the lift where my husband and daughter were waiting.
Both of them just shook their heads at me, as if I’m the problem here.
The next morning, I was about to head to the market with my daughter…and there he was. Sitting proudly on his little throne again, as if waiting for me.
Not as if … actually, I’m quite sure he was waiting for me.
Cats can sense these things. When their favourite person is nearby… somehow, they just know.
And honestly, this is not my first experience with such things. Before I got married, when I was still staying with my parents, I had four cats. All of them were extremely attached to me.
My father used to laugh and tell people: “These cats ah… will sleep on her bed or under her bed. Only come out when they want to eat or go toilet.”
Then he would shake his head and say: “But suddenly… all of them will get up and wait by the main door.”
And somehow…a few minutes later, I would arrive home. They always knew.
So when I saw the orange one sitting there that morning…waiting on his throne like some fluffy little king…I knew. He had been waiting for me too 😌🐱
We locked eyes.Then slowly… he stretched out his paw towards me and extended his long orange neck that familiar gesture of trust.
An invitation. I reached out and touched him. I massaged his paw gently… then stroked that long fluffy neck of his.
And then the Prrrrrrrrrrr. Aaaaah!!
The sound of a cat purring is honestly one of the most satisfying sounds on earth. Peace. Joy. Healing.
Then suddenly…I noticed something. A tracker. They had attached a tracker around his neck. I looked at him.
And immediately my brain translated his actions: Ahhhhh… so THAT’S why you were stretching your neck towards me.
He was trying to tell me. “Look what they’ve done to me.”
Now how to escape again? This time surely they can find him already.
And then… the mind started “Hmmm…Can always cut off the tracker…”
At that exact moment, my daughter’s voice appeared behind me. As if she could read my thoughts directly from my face.
She looked at me… then at the cat… then back at me. Immediately she asked: “You’re not going to do what I think you’re going to do right?”
“What?”
“Cutting off the tracker.”
“Why would I think of such a thing?” And she just gave me…that look. That deeply disappointed look people give before someone commits a crime 😌🐱
Then I casually said: “But what if the tracker… drops off by itself?”
My daughter stopped walking. “Maaa…Tracker don’t just drop off on their own.” A pause. “Without your help.”
I gave her that look back. Then she continued: “It’s not your cat.”
To which I replied very calmly: “Well… the cat will decide whose cat he wants to be. Not for us humans to decide.”
Another long stare.
Another disappointed shake of the head. “Maaaaaaaa…”
And then we continued walking towards the market together. But honestly…my mind still could not let it go.
What if…I try to communicate mentally with him? Cats can read people’s minds. I am quite sure of this. How else do they always know?
How else do they sense sadness… loneliness… the sound of their favourite person reaching home before anyone else?
Perhaps tonight…I shall attempt telepathic communication with the orange one.
Maybe I will stand quietly by the corridor and mentally project: “Be strong. Freedom is near.” 😌🐱
