Subtle Steps in Solitude is a poignant exploration of a young woman's journey through life's mundane routines and unexpected challenges. Priscilla "Cici" Tan is a 28-year-old financial adviser, seemingly content with her structured, solitary existen...
When I pulled into the driveway, I took a moment to steel myself before getting out of the car. The house, on the outside looks ominous but decent—neat, orderly, a reflection of my mother's perfectionist nature. I walked up to the front door, my steps slow and deliberate, as if delaying the inevitable could somehow change the outcome.
Inside, the house was filled with the comforting smells of home-cooked food, but it did little to soothe my nerves. I found my mom in the kitchen, putting the finishing touches on dinner. She looked up as I entered, her expression as composed as ever.
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She looked up as I entered, her expression as composed as ever
"Ci, you're just in time," she said, her tone brisk.
"Where's Wei?", I asked as my eyes scan around the house trying to look for my brother.
"He's gonna be having dinner at Vincent's. He'll be home later. Dinner's almost ready."
Oh. Maybe that's why mom was the one who send the text message, Wei was not home all along. I got tensed for nothing.
I went straight to the toilet to pee before joining them at the table. I took my sweet moment, stayed inside the restroom for a good 5minutes to collect myself. I stared at my reflection in the mirror, noticing the tension in my features, the slight furrow in my brow. I forced myself to relax, to take a deep breath. This was just dinner. I could handle it.
When I returned to the dining room, Mom and Dad were already seated at the table. My dad gave me a small smile, his usual quiet, supportive self, gesturing me to take a seat.
We sat down to eat, the silence only broken by the clinking of utensils and the occasional comment about the food. I waited, knowing that the conversation would inevitably turn to me.
And it did.
"So, Cici," my mom began, her tone deceptively casual, "Congratulations on your promotion at work."
"Thanks Ma," I replied, trying to gauge where this was going. Her voice was polite, but there was an edge to it, a sharpness that hinted at something more.
"I'm sure it's a big step up," she continued, her eyes narrowing slightly. "More responsibility, more pressure. Are you sure you're ready for that? How are you holding up?"
The question hit me like a punch to the gut. My survival instincts didn't falter earlier. I did foresee an imminent danger about this dinner and my instincts tried to self-preserve. The sense for self-conservation and regard shapes the human ways of behaving connected with taking care of oneself, self-esteem, and individual personality and my instincts tried to push me to protect my mental self-view. Of course, she would find a way to turn a positive into a negative. Is it possible that I am just on edge because of the workload I had this morning? Am I just overthinking this? I don't wanna overreact. It would be a weapon she could use to attack more. Still, I could feel the tension building in my chest, but I forced myself to stay calm.
