Seraphina's POV
I growled lazily when I heard the alarm clock I had set on my phone last night. It was already 4 a.m., and I needed to get up and prepare myself because my shift started at 7. I wanted to sleep more, but I was worried I might be late for work. Frowning, I continued growling while walking to the bathroom, as if anyone could hear my rant.
I had been working as an office staff member at a large company in the city for 5 years. The company sold furniture worldwide. Recently, I felt completely drained by work because of the endless routine I was stuck in. I realized that my routine had been the same for five years. No improvement, no change, no progress. I was tired of being a worker. But I didn't know how to cure the burnout I felt. I couldn't even quit my job because I had only myself to support. I had no family to rely on. Since high school, my parents had left me alone to start their own families. I lived with my grandma, but three years ago, she passed away. I hadn't even spoiled her with the things she wanted because she died too soon. Maybe that was one of the reasons I didn't feel motivated to do anything in my life. Most of the time, I just wanted to lie in bed, watch my favorite dramas, play my favorite online games, and eat whatever was available in the fridge. But I could only do that on Sundays, my only day off. Work itself wasn't hard. I received emails, replied to them, and forwarded the orders I received from clients to the head of our department. I wasn't alone in doing these tasks; my team shared the workload. Still, I didn't feel happy. I wanted to quit—not just work, but everything, even life itself, if possible.
I opened the shower and was startled by the cold water, but it helped bring me back to my senses. I hurriedly finished my 15-minute bath. Then, I went to my cabinet to pick out clothes for the day. In our company, wearing civilian clothes was allowed. I chose a pink collared long-sleeve shirt and a black pencil skirt to match. After dressing, I went to the kitchen to prepare breakfast.
My usual breakfast was simple: a smoothie made with rolled oats, nonfat milk, banana, and almonds, paired with wheat bread and homemade peanut butter. Sometimes, I added a sunny-side-up egg if I was craving one. For lunch, I prepared tofu mixed with vegetables and paired it with white rice. I rarely ate out, since cooking at home saved money and time waiting in line at the canteen. After preparing my lunch, I began eating breakfast immediately. I sat on my favorite spot—the old sofa my grandma had bought when I was in college—and munched on the bread while sipping my smoothie. It was the perfect morning combo.
After breakfast, I brushed my teeth and went to my bedroom to check myself in the mirror. My daily routine consisted only of powder and pink lipstick. I didn't use makeup often—not only because it was expensive, but also because I didn't know how to apply it properly.
I sighed, reminding myself that the day would be hectic since it was the first day of the week. After my final glance in the mirror, I left the house, making sure I had unplugged all appliances.
Outside, a neighbor greeted me. I forced a smile and returned the greeting, then walked toward the bus stop I usually took.
Not long after, the bus arrived. The seats weren't full yet—maybe it was too early for some passengers. I silently chose a window seat, put in my AirPods, and played my favorite sad music. I had been like this ever since feeling unmotivated: I played sad songs, only to sink deeper into my own sadness. Isn't that ironic?
I let out a deep sigh as I stared at the cityscape. What could one expect in a place filled with towering buildings? I longed for the peace of the countryside. I remembered living with my grandma in her province during high school. She always said she wouldn't trade her provincial life for the city, but she had to move to support me. She worked as a factory worker, fed me, sent me to school, and bought what I needed, even though she didn't want to leave the province. I had grown used to city life. The pay was better, but peace? The province had that in abundance.
The bus stopped in front of the company. I got off and stared at the massive building. It was the company I had once dreamed of working for, yet it was the source of my burnout. People often told me I should be grateful for my job, and maybe I was, but gratitude didn't erase exhaustion.
I sighed again before entering. Employees were logging in via biometric scanners. After checking in, I headed to the elevator with five others and pressed the button for the seventh floor.
Upon reaching the floor, I walked straight to my desk. My colleague, Mira, greeted me with a smile. I smiled back. Of all my department colleagues, only Mira truly understood me. I was usually nonchalant and closed off, often mistaken as snobbish. Yet Mira, like a perceptive psychologist, had taken the time to understand me. Even though I didn't fully open up, she treated me as a friend.
"Your 26th birthday is next week. Any plans?" she asked, leaning closer.
I looked at her and forced a smile. I had no plans. Birthdays never brought me joy. When my grandma was alive, she used to cook my favorite pancit canton with pork, squid balls, kikiam, and vegetables. Sometimes, there was no cake, but she made sure I felt special.
"Do you want to eat out? My treat," Mira offered.
Her petite frame carried an almost delicate grace. Her skin was pale, flawless, and contrasted beautifully with the black curls that framed her face, bangs falling perfectly over her forehead. There was something distinctly Japanese about her features. She loved makeup, layering it skillfully, while I barely knew how to apply any.
"Ah, no need, Mira. I'll just visit my grandma's tomb," I replied, averting my gaze.
She didn't give up, moving her chair closer. "I'll treat you afterward. You can't just go to your grandma's tomb every year and come home like it's just another day."
I couldn't refuse. Mira's persistence was admirable. She understood me and still made the effort to brighten my day.
"Okay," I finally said, and she returned to her desk smiling.
The morning passed quickly with emails and orders. By lunch, I grabbed my lunch bag while Mira went to buy food at the canteen. I ate quietly at my desk, watching my favorite Thai series on YouTube with AirPods in.
At this age, I didn't know how to be friendly. I didn't even know how to start a conversation. I had lots of words in my head, but only a few ever came out. I wasn't as expressive as Mira, maybe because of the traumatic experiences I had in the past. My parents didn't even bother to contact me to ask if I was okay. The last time I saw my mother was at my grandma's funeral. We hadn't really talked before, as if we were strangers.
I silently enjoyed my lunch for thirty minutes. When I was done, I decided to stop watching and went to the comfort room to brush my teeth and apply powder and lipstick. While I was doing this, Mira entered the comfort room.
"Sera, are you done eating your lunch?" Mira asked, using my nickname.
I nodded while still applying lipstick. She came closer and began retouching her own face, opening her pouch full of girly things.
"You're still wearing that ring," she said.
Mira noticed the black ring I was wearing. It wasn't the kind of ring you could buy anywhere. According to my grandma, it was one of a kind, given to her by a close friend. I still remember the day she came home and called me over. She had me sit on our newly bought sofa and handed me a small black box. Curiosity bubbled inside me, but Grandma explained that the ring was meant to protect me from evil.
When she opened the box, I saw the black ring. Strange, unfamiliar symbols were etched around it—symbols I couldn't understand. I never looked them up—I just wasn't interested. Grandma told me never to take it off, no matter how old I got. Thankfully, even as I grew bigger, the ring still fit my finger perfectly, as if it had grown with me.
I had promised my grandma that I would never take it off, and I've kept that promise to this day—even though there was a time I considered selling it at a pawnshop. Over the years, I grew used to wearing it. Sometimes, I even forgot it was on my finger—until someone, like Mira, noticed it.
"I promised grandma I wouldn't take it off," I said.
She simply nodded and continued applying her makeup. I told her I'd head back to my desk first, and she agreed without hesitation.
The day grew even busier than the morning. Mira wasn't able to talk to me, which was a good thing because I wasn't in the mood to chat unless it was work-related.
By 4 p.m., it was finally time to go home. I finished all my tasks on time since I had no intention of working overtime.
"Are you going home now?" Mira asked as she closed her laptop and stretched.
I nodded. See? I was a woman of few words.
"What are you doing at home?" she asked next. That question made me pause and think. What did I even do at home? First, I would take a bath—I couldn't bring myself to sit on the couch or lie on my bed right after coming in from outside. After bathing, I would start preparing my dinner. Since I didn't like going to sleep feeling bloated, I usually ate fresh fruits that I bought on my days off. While eating, I watched my favorite dramas—Thai series one day, Chinese dramas the next.
After dinner, I would sit on the sofa for hours until sleepiness finally came. Then I'd go to bed.
Another morning would arrive and, as usual, my motivation would be even lower. The same routine repeated itself: take a bath, prepare my meals, go to work, greet my neighbors, walk to the bus station, ride the bus, and do my tasks at the company as orders kept piling up.
I sighed again. It was only Tuesday, but I was already exhausted. This burnout kept growing heavier each day.
I decided to stop by the convenience store across the street. I stood at the pedestrian lane, waiting for the signal to turn green before crossing. But then, something unexpected happened—a car sped toward me without slowing down. It was so fast that it could hit me any second.
Was this the day I would finally rest?
Was this the day I would finally see Grandma again?