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...
"Remus, no! Stop it right now, you're going to scratch my shoes," I scolded, doing my best to shoo the frisky feline away from my leather wedges. I had barely had a moment to catch my breath after a long day at work, yet there I was, frantically getting ready to attend yet another family event. Remus, on the other hand, seemed oblivious to my mounting stress, his mischievous eyes gleaming as he pounced on my shoes again, as if daring me to stop him.
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Aside from intimate family home dinners, I've always been a pro at dodging family events—work deadlines, "emergencies," mysterious illnesses, you name it. My excuses were practically a work of art. Anything to avoid the relentless inquisition: "Why are you still single?" "When will you buy a house?" "Why aren't you climbing the ladder as fast as your cousins?" These gatherings turned into Olympic-level obstacle courses of dodging and deflecting.
But some things, like Ma's 60th birthday, you just can't avoid.
It wasn't just her birthday either—it had evolved into a full-blown family reunion. Thanks to Uncle Peter, everyone was invited: cousins I hadn't seen in years, aunties with endless opinions, and relatives I barely remembered. The WhatsApp group chat had been pinging non-stop, as though Beyoncé herself were making an appearance.
Staring at myself in the mirror, I tugged at the hem of my dress, rehearsing answers to questions I knew would come. "Why are you still renting?" "When will you settle down?" "Your cousin's daughter just got married, isn't it time you thought about children?" It was funny, really—how they thought these questions were helpful, like I hadn't already spent sleepless nights obsessing over them myself. But I did what I always do: plastered on a smile, grabbed my bag, and walked out the door. By now, I had perfected the art of smiling through gritted teeth.
"Bye Remy!" I shouted as I close the door behind me, hearing Remus meow back."
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The restaurant was decked out in the usual festive regalia—red lanterns, golden dragons etched into the walls, and those oversized round tables that practically demanded awkward group conversations. I arrived just late enough to miss the initial small talk, gliding in like a pro avoiding an opening pitch.
