Wet Season

In the damp, rain‑soaked streets of contemporary Singapore, a quiet desperation hums beneath the city’s glossy veneer. Ling, a diligent Malaysian‑Chinese teacher in her late thirties, balances a demanding career with the fragile hope of conceiving through IVF. Her life is already stretched thin by the responsibility of caring for an ailing father‑in‑law while her husband, Andrew, is often away, leaving her to navigate the emotional toll of medical appointments and household obligations largely on her own.

Amid this routine, a chance encounter introduces Kok Wei Lun, a shy student who moves through the school corridors on crutches after an injury. Isolated from his absent parents, he becomes an unexpected presence in Ling’s world. Their interactions begin with small gestures—a shared ride home, the simple act of breaking open durians in an empty classroom—slowly forging a tentative friendship that offers both a respite from their respective pressures and a subtle shift in their daily rhythms.

The film’s tone is intimate and reflective, using Singapore’s relentless monsoon as a visual metaphor for the characters’ internal storms. The humidity and drizzle amplify a sense of confinement, while moments of quiet light break through, hinting at the possibility of renewal. Ling’s internal conflict is painted with nuance: the yearning for a family, the weight of cultural expectations, and the desire to remain true to herself amid duties that feel both noble and suffocating.

As the season progresses, Ling finds herself at a crossroads, contemplating the paths that lie ahead—whether to remain tethered to a life shaped by obligation or to step into an uncertain future that promises both risk and a chance at personal fulfillment. The story lingers on the delicate balance between responsibility and longing, inviting viewers to wonder how far a single rain‑spattered day can change the course of a life.

Last Updated: August 10, 2025 at 00:49