Subtle Steps in Solitude

• 3 • Windows instead of walls

I woke up feeling a mixture of anticipation and anxiety. Today was a big day—potentially a turning point in my career. As I went through my usual routine, there was a noticeable tension in my movements. My mind kept returning to the client strategy I had worked so hard on the previous day. It had to work. It just had to.

At 9 AM sharp, I was in the conference room, my strategy document laid out in front of me like a shield. Mr. Koh, along with a few senior colleagues, sat across the table, their expressions inscrutable.

"Alright, Ms. Tan, let's hear your proposal," Mr. Koh said, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed.

I took a deep breath and began my presentation. My voice was steady, the words flowing from me with a confidence I hadn't fully realized I possessed. I walked them through the key points, the data supporting my recommendations, and the potential outcomes. The room was silent, every pair of eyes on me, every ear tuned to my words.

When I finished, there was a moment of tense silence. My heart pounded in my chest as I waited for their response.

Finally, Mr. Koh nodded, a slight smile forming on his lips. "This is good, Ms. Tan. Really good. I think this could work."

A wave of relief washed over me, and I allowed myself a small, triumphant smile. The other senior colleagues murmured their approval, and the tension in the room eased.

"Alright, let's move forward with this. Ms. Tan, you'll take the lead on implementing the strategy," Mr. Koh said, his tone one of finality.

"Thank you," I replied, my voice still calm, though inside I was nearly bursting with a mix of relief and pride.

As I walked back to my desk, I felt a sense of accomplishment I hadn't felt in a long time. This was more than just a win; it was validation—a sign that all my hard work, all my late nights and early mornings, were paying off.

But as the day went on, the euphoria began to wear off, replaced by a familiar gnawing feeling. Yes, I had succeeded in this task, but why did it still feel so... hollow? The sense of fulfillment was fleeting, evaporating as soon as the next task appeared on my to-do list.

By the time I left the office that evening, the earlier triumph felt like a distant memory. As I walked towards the MRT station, the city lights twinkling around me, I couldn't shake the sense that something was missing. My career was on an upward trajectory, yet my personal life felt stagnant, stuck in a loop of routine and obligation.

I thought about Jia's words from the previous day—about taking care of myself. I thought about the stranger on the train and how a brief moment of human connection had lifted my spirits, even if only for a short while.

As I boarded the train, I made a decision. It was time to make some changes. Small ones, maybe, but changes nonetheless. I couldn't keep living like this, running on autopilot, chasing success while neglecting my own happiness.

The first step, I decided, was to break the monotony. To do something—anything—that wasn't part of my usual routine. The idea scared me, but it also excited me. For the first time in a long time, I felt like I was taking control of my life, not just my career.

When I got home, I didn't dive straight into work or collapse onto the couch like usual. Instead, I pulled out my phone and scrolled through my contacts until I found Jia's number.

"Hey Jia, it's Cici. I was wondering if you're free this weekend? I'd love to catch up over coffee again."

As I hit send, a small smile played on my lips. It was a simple thing, reaching out to a friend, but it felt like the start of something bigger. Something that could help me find the balance I'd been searching for.