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...
Months passed since I decided to stop merely existing in the polished shell I'd created for myself. I can't say my life did a complete 180—no dramatic epiphanies, no miraculous awakenings—but it did shift. Slowly, subtly. And maybe that's all I needed: subtle steps.
My routine had, unsurprisingly, changed with Remus around. Mornings now involved more than a hasty gulp of either smoothie or coffee and a quick mental rehearsal of my to-do list. Instead, there was the soft sound of paws padding against the floor, a warm purring against my leg as I prepared his food. And while I used to find comfort in the silence of my apartment, I now found it oddly unsettling when Remus wasn't meowing at me to pay attention to him.
"Look at you," I said to the furball one morning, crouching down as he swatted at my fingers.
Who would've thought I'd be talking to a cat every day?
Remus flicked his tail in what I assumed was agreement—or maybe he was just bored with me already.
Things at work hadn't shifted quite as dramatically, though there were changes there too. Lianne had, for better or worse, cemented her place in my daily life. She was no longer just my assistant; she'd become... well, a friend. A real one. It was strange to admit that—strange to think that I, Priscilla Tan, could let someone so close, and yet here I was, texting her in the middle of the day, updating her on Remus' latest antics.
Lianne and I had this ritual now, going for coffee at least once a week, which felt refreshingly different from my previous attempts at isolation disguised as independence. It wasn't always serious talk—thankfully, Lianne had a knack for making light of the most mundane situations—but sometimes, we'd dig deeper. She was good at coaxing out my thoughts without making me feel exposed.
Like the other day, when I'd casually mentioned I was thinking of exploring new hobbies.
"You, a hobby?" she'd teased, raising an eyebrow. "I thought your hobbies were Excel spreadsheets and avoiding eye contact with strangers."
"Ha ha, very funny," I replied, though she wasn't entirely wrong. "But seriously, maybe I'll pick up something creative. Like photography. Or painting."
"Painting?" Lianne stifled a giggle. "I'll believe it when I see it."
"Hey, I can be artistic!" I protested, but I couldn't help smiling.
These conversations, lighthearted as they were, had a way of planting ideas in my head. Maybe I could try painting. Or photography. Or something that wasn't purely for the sake of appearances but rather for me—for the Cici beneath all the layers of 'what-should-I-be-doing' and 'how-should-I-look-to-others.'
And speaking of appearances, my public image—the pristine façade of the successful senior financial adviser—was still very much intact. I knew how to play that game; it was muscle memory by now. But behind it, I'd grown tired of the constant performance.
It was strange reconciling the two parts of me: the image I'd worked so hard to perfect and the person I was learning to accept. And while I hadn't exactly found the perfect balance, I was more comfortable with the idea that I didn't have to be perfect at all.
That realization felt important. Groundbreaking, even.
*****
Other days I would find myself having coffee with Melissa. She had been through so much with her mother's passing, and the least I could do was be there for her—really be there for her.
"Thanks again for helping me with all the finances, Cici," Melissa said, wrapping her hands around the warm mug in front of her. Her eyes were still heavy with grief, but there was something lighter in her smile. "I don't know what I would've done without you."
I waved her off, feeling slightly uncomfortable with the praise. "You don't have to thank me. I'm just glad you're managing things a little better now."
Melissa smiled softly. "It's more than just managing, you know. You really helped me. And not just with the practical stuff. You've been a good friend."
The word 'friend' hit me with more force than I'd expected. Once upon a time, I wouldn't have allowed myself to get so involved. But now, I realized that being a friend—truly connecting with someone—wasn't as terrifying as I once believed. It was... rewarding. In ways I hadn't anticipated.
"Hey, what do you say we invite Lianne and make it a proper coffee date?" I suggested, feeling a burst of spontaneity that was very unlike me.
Melissa's eyes brightened. "I'd love that."
*****
When Lianne joined us later, the atmosphere at the table was filled with light banter and laughter. We weren't just colleagues; we were friends. And that felt... nice.
"So, Melissa, how's the new place treating you?" Lianne asked, sipping her latte.
"It's good, actually," Melissa said with a smile. "Feels weird being on my own again, but I'm getting used to it."
"That's how I felt when I first moved out," I chimed in. "Takes some time, but eventually, you find your rhythm."
The conversation meandered comfortably, and I felt a sense of warmth, a quiet peace in the company of people who genuinely cared. It was far from the guarded, solitary life I had before, but it wasn't overwhelming either. It was... balanced.
*****
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That night, I lay in bed, with Remus curled up beside me, and I thought about how much had changed in the past few months. I wasn't some brand-new version of myself, but I was different. Less rigid, less afraid of vulnerability. I was learning to let people in—not just when I needed to look good but when I needed to be... human.
And maybe that was enough. Subtle steps, after all, still moved me forward.
