SUYEN
The soft hum of computers and the faint tapping of keyboards filled the air as I settled into my chair at Maneski, the gaming café I frequented. It was the perfect place to drown out the chaos of life and focus on something I could control. I adjusted my headset, fingers already hovering over the keyboard. My Valorant queue popped up, and I quickly joined a game.
On the desk beside me were two large cups of milk tea—one caramel and one wintermelon—and a small feast of fries, burgers, and takoyaki. If there was one thing I could count on to make me feel a little better, it was good food and gaming.
The game loaded, and I picked my main: Jett. Her agility and sharp precision mirrored the kind of mood I was in—quick, efficient, and no room for hesitation. As the match began, I let myself get lost in the strategy, the calls, and the rush of adrenaline that came with landing a perfect headshot.
“Spike planted,” the announcer called out, and my focus sharpened.
“Got it,” I murmured under my breath, quickly maneuvering Jett across the map. My team was down two players, and it was up to me to clutch the round.
I could feel the tension in my teammates’ voices over the chat, but I ignored them. My hands moved almost instinctively, every flick of the mouse and press of the keys landing with precision. One by one, I eliminated the enemy team, and with a perfectly timed dash, I defused the spike just as the timer reached its final second.
“Clutch!” the announcer exclaimed, and the café erupted into quiet applause from nearby players who had been watching.
I leaned back in my chair, letting out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. A small smile tugged at my lips as I sipped on my wintermelon milk tea.
By the time I finished my last game, the rest of my food was gone, and the once-busy café had started to empty out. I packed up my things, thanking the staff on my way out. My legs felt lighter as I walked toward the park nearby, a rare sense of calm washing over me.
I popped my earphones in and let the music fill my head. The soft notes of an instrumental playlist drowned out the sounds of the city, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
For the first time in a while, I let myself think about everything that had happened—the fight with Collie, Marcus’s harsh words, Sophia’s lingering presence.
It was all my fault.
I wasn’t going to pretend otherwise. I had made bad decisions, hurt people, and dragged myself into a pit I didn’t need to be in.
But acknowledging that didn’t feel as heavy as it used to.
Because for the first time, I realized I didn’t have to stay there.
I wasn’t going to chase after Marcus or try to explain myself to him. If he wanted to hold onto his anger, that was his choice. And Collie? He was ancient history. His jealousy, his lingering glances—they meant nothing to me now.
Even Sophia, my own sister, wasn’t worth the energy. She might have grown up to be the perfect daughter in my mother’s eyes, but she was just another person who’d contributed to my misery. I had no obligation to let her drag me down any further.
I sipped my milk tea, the caramel sweetness lingering on my tongue. My feet carried me aimlessly through the park, past kids playing on swings and couples strolling hand in hand.
I felt… lighter. Not entirely okay, but better.
I had made mistakes, but they didn’t define me.
When I finally got home, the sun was starting to set, painting the sky in shades of pink and orange. I opened the door quietly, slipping off my shoes.
As I stepped into the hallway, I froze. Sophia was there, sitting on the couch with her phone in hand. Her eyes met mine immediately, and I could see the hesitation in her face.
“Suyen—”
I didn’t let her finish. Without a word, I walked past her, my expression blank. Her voice followed me as she tried again.
“Wait, I just want to talk—”
I stopped in my tracks, turning to face her. “What for?” My voice was cold, emotionless.
She faltered, and for a moment, I saw guilt flash across her face. But it didn’t matter.
“Don’t bother,” I said, cutting her off before she could respond. “We both know how this ends.”
And with that, I turned away again, climbing the stairs to my room.
The second I closed the door, I let out a long sigh. Leaning against the doorframe, I felt the weight of the day settle over me.
I wasn’t upset. I wasn’t angry. I was just… done.
Done chasing after people who didn’t want me. Done trying to fix things that weren’t worth fixing.
As I sat on my bed, pulling out a manga from my shelf, I felt a strange sense of peace.
I wasn’t perfect, and my life wasn’t magically fixed. But for the first time, I wasn’t trying to escape it either.
And that felt like a good place to start.
The comforting stillness of my room had lulled me into a deep sleep. The manga I’d been reading lay forgotten on my chest, and the playlist in my earphones had long since ended. When I woke up, the room was dim, the faint light of early dawn creeping through the curtains.
Something felt... off.
It wasn’t just the weight of sleep lingering in my body or the slight chill in the air. There was a sound. A soft, rhythmic noise—barely audible at first.
A meow.
I sat up abruptly, rubbing my eyes as I scanned the room. "What the hell?" I muttered groggily. The sound came again, this time accompanied by a strange rustling from under my bed.
Curiosity—and maybe a bit of apprehension—tugged at me. I swung my legs over the side of the bed and crouched down, hesitating before lifting the edge of the bed skirt.
My breath caught.
Underneath the bed, nestled in the shadows, was a cat. A mama cat, to be precise. Her sleek gray fur shimmered faintly in the low light, and her golden eyes glinted as she looked at me. She let out another soft meow, her gaze unwavering.
And then I saw them—the tiny, squirming bodies pressed against her belly. Four kittens, their eyes not even open yet, nuzzled against her, feeding.
For a long moment, I just stared.
“What in the world…” I mumbled, scratching the back of my head. “How did you even get in here?”
The mama cat didn’t answer, of course. She just watched me, her expression oddly calm, as though she were daring me to do something about the situation.
I groaned, running a hand through my hair. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I muttered. “A cat? With kittens? Under my bed?”
The absurdity of it all was almost funny. Almost.
I leaned closer, trying to get a better look. The kittens were tiny—barely bigger than my hand. Their soft fur was a mix of gray and white, and their little bodies rose and fell with each tiny breath.
The mama cat let out another soft meow, as if to remind me she was still there.
“I don’t know what to do with you,” I said, sitting back on my heels. “I mean, I can’t just kick you out. You’ve got babies.”
She blinked slowly, her golden eyes never leaving mine.
With a sigh, I stood up and grabbed my phone from the nightstand. Typing “what to do if a stray cat gives birth in your house” into the search bar felt ridiculous, but I had no other ideas.
The internet, as usual, had plenty of advice—most of which boiled down to “don’t move the kittens and leave the mama cat alone.”
Great.
I peered under the bed again, scratching my head. “Guess you’re staying for now,” I said, earning another quiet meow in response.
Not knowing what else to do, I went downstairs to grab a bowl of water and some leftover chicken from the fridge. When I returned, the mama cat watched me intently as I set the food and water near the bed. She sniffed the air, then cautiously stepped out to eat.
Her movements were graceful, almost regal, and for a moment, I was struck by how beautiful she was. She ate quickly but carefully, her ears twitching as if she were listening for any sign of danger.
The kittens remained under the bed, huddled together in a tiny pile of fluff.
I sat cross-legged on the floor, watching her. “You know, you’re kind of a badass,” I said. “Sneaking in here, finding a safe place to have your babies. You didn’t even ask permission.”
She glanced at me, her golden eyes gleaming, and I could’ve sworn there was a hint of smugness in her expression.
“Fine,” I muttered. “You win. You can stay. But only until the kittens are big enough to fend for themselves.”
As if she understood, she let out a small chirp of approval before returning to her babies.
I leaned back against the bed frame, sighing. This wasn’t exactly how I’d imagined my life going, but then again, nothing ever seemed to go as planned.
Still, as I watched the mama cat curl around her kittens, a strange sense of calm settled over me. Maybe this was exactly what I needed—something simple, something real.
For the first time in a long while, I didn’t feel so alone.
*****