Seraphina stood up, her bare feet pressing against the cool tiles of the floor. The sense of accomplishment from posting her essay lingered, but another thought now tugged at her mind — Inder. He had woven himself into her thoughts so seamlessly, it felt as though she couldn’t tell where she ended and he began.
She stretched, as if releasing the tension that clung to her, and made her way to the bathroom. Her movements were slow and deliberate, savoring the quiet moments of her morning routine. She picked up her toothbrush, ran it under the tap, and applied a minty line of toothpaste. As she brushed her teeth, her gaze drifted to the mirror. Foam gathered at the corners of her lips, but it wasn’t her reflection she saw. It was his image —vivid, unshakable.
Inder’s face hovered in her mind: the way his eyes lingered a second too long when they spoke, the way his smile curled slightly at the edges, hinting at something he never said aloud. Seraphina rinsed her mouth, splashing cold water on her face in hopes of shaking him off, but the memory stayed.
"Why did you do this to me, Inder?" she whispered to herself, as though speaking his name aloud would provide some relief. "You emptied yourself into me and left me filled with nothing but thoughts of you."
Her breath trembled slightly as she peeled her clothes off, piece by piece, each layer dropping onto the bathroom floor without a sound. The cool air kissed her skin, causing goosebumps to rise, but the heat of her thoughts persisted. She stepped into the shower and turned the handle, waiting for the water to warm.
Soon, steam began to cloud the glass, and she stepped under the steady stream of hot water. It cascaded over her, soft and soothing, washing away the last remnants of sleep. She closed her eyes, letting the heat embrace her, as though it could melt away the ache that Inder’s memory left behind. But no amount of water could erase him. He was there — alive in her thoughts — etched into her mind like a delicate scar.
The water ran down her neck and shoulders, curling around the curves of her body as if tracing the path of his touch. She rested her forehead against the cool tiles, feeling their solidness beneath her skin. The warmth of the shower contrasted with the chill that clung to her heart — a coldness only he could thaw, yet one he had unknowingly caused.
Every thought circled back to him. Every time she tried to push him away, his presence returned, sharper and deeper, like a hook she couldn’t untangle herself from. It was frustrating and intoxicating at the same time — how one person could take root inside her mind, making it impossible to think of anything else.
A part of her resented how much power his presence had over her, but another part craved it — wanted to wrap herself tighter in the memories, the glances, the unspoken moments they had shared.
The water started to cool, pulling her back to the present. She let out a soft sigh, wishing she could stay beneath the warmth forever, where time felt slower, and reality couldn’t reach her. But she knew she had to leave the shower eventually — step back into a world where his presence was only in her thoughts, not by her side.
With reluctant movements, she turned off the water, listening as the last droplets dripped from the faucet. The steam around her began to thin, much like her resolve to let him go. She reached for a towel, wrapping it around herself, the fabric clinging to her damp skin.
Seraphina stepped out of the bathroom, wrapping the towel snugly around her body, the warmth of her shower still clinging to her skin. Droplets of water trailed from her damp hair, tracing slow paths down her back as she walked across the cool floor. She moved toward the closet with unhurried steps, pulling out a fresh set of clothes—soft cotton pants and a loose, cream-colored top.
After dressing, she glanced at the clock. 3:15 a.m. The quiet of the night pressed in around her, broken only by the rhythmic ticking of the clock and the distant hum of the city beyond her window.
But her thoughts refused to settle. Her mind kept circling back to the dream she had woken from only minutes before — a dream with Inder at its center. His presence had been vivid, almost tangible, as though he had slipped from the dream world into her waking thoughts without permission.
She shook her head, exhaling through her nose. Why does he keep lingering in my mind like this? It was as if he had taken up permanent residence there, filling every quiet moment with his memory, making her restless in ways she hadn’t anticipated.
With a resigned sigh, Seraphina tied her hair into a messy bun and rolled up her sleeves. There was no escaping her thoughts, but she could at least distract herself with chores. She picked up the broom and began sweeping the floor, moving with brisk, practiced strokes. Dust swirled in the dim light, and the steady rhythm of her movements filled the silence around her.
Yet, even as her hands worked, her mind kept wandering back to Inder.
His eyes. His voice. The way he looked at her, like he saw straight through her. No matter how hard she tried to focus on the task at hand, his image wouldn’t leave her. It clung to her like the scent of rain on earth — something she couldn’t brush off, no matter how much she tried.
After sweeping, she grabbed a mop and continued cleaning, lost in thought. The mop swished across the floor, and time blurred, each minute folding into the next. When she was done, she moved to the kitchen and began washing the dishes. The water splashed against the sink, cool and sharp, but even that did little to clear her thoughts.
By the time she had finished all the chores, her clothes had picked up dust and water stains from the floor. She paused, staring down at her now-ruined outfit with a frustrated sigh. Why did I bother changing right after the shower ? She frowned, realizing the absurdity of her actions.
Normally, her mind worked like clockwork, planning each task with precision. But tonight had been different. She had showered first, changed clothes, and then dove into cleaning — a backwards routine that made no sense. She shook her head, the mistake dawning on her like an obvious blunder she couldn’t undo.
She muttered under her breath, irritated with herself. "I should’ve done the cleaning first. Then showered. Then changed." A flicker of annoyance sparked in her chest, heating her cheeks. Now she would have to change clothes again.
A low, exasperated sigh escaped her lips as she paced the room, cursing under her breath. "What’s wrong with me tonight?" she whispered. This wasn’t like her. She never forgot basic things like this. But the answer was obvious, wasn’t it?
Inder.
It’s your fault, Inder. She pressed her palms against her temples, feeling the corners of a reluctant smile creep onto her lips, despite her frustration. He’s ruined everything. Her thoughts, her focus, even her schedule — nothing was in place anymore.
She cursed him once more, "All your fault." As if by saying it aloud, she could transfer some of her irritation onto him, wherever he was at that moment.
