Seren
THEY LIE…
As usual, Dad called me for breakfast.
I took the empty chair beside him.
These mornings had become so predictable that sometimes I wondered if I was trapped in a time loop.
Same table.Same silence.Same chocolate milk.
My cup was filled with it again.
Dad still thought I drank chocolate milk.
I didn’t.
I didn’t know what had changed in Dad. Once upon a time, his laughter used to fill this house.
Now?
Those giggles were gone.
Anshika sometimes got jealous of me, yet somehow, she was always the one comforting me. And Dad…
Dad only wanted to see me happy.
He never seemed to want anything beyond that.
Every morning, he’d talk about the person he had fought for.
When I was little, those stories fascinated me.
After Mom was gone, they meant nothing.
Maybe a child was supposed to get distracted easily.
Maybe I was supposed to.
But I didn’t.
God was cruel.
Or maybe He was just selfish.
Only the clatter of dishes pulled me out of my thoughts.
Yeah.
Those plates and cups.
I glanced at the dining table.
Two plates.
Two empty chairs.
Both of them belonged to people who weren’t here anymore.
Mom.
And my little brother.
Mira always set the plates there.
Every single morning.
I had grown used to seeing them.
That was the scary part.
I had never asked Dad why.
He had never explained.
Maybe he was waiting for me to ask.
Maybe.
“You’ll be late, princess.”
Dad’s voice came from behind a mountain of case files.
I looked at the clock.
Every time I looked at it, my mind seemed to fog.
The clock screamed one word at me.
Elegance.
7:30 a.m.
Right.
College.
I should probably be there on time.
My eyes fell on the toast Mira had served ages ago.
Cold.
Just like everything else in this house.
Dad finished his breakfast and stood up.
“Do you want me to drop you at college, princess?”
Every morning, Dad wore the same kind of outfit—a sleek black coat over a white formal shirt and vintage black trousers.
Then came the tie.
He straightened it carefully.
Mom used to do that for him.
Eight years ago, she’d stand in front of him, fixing his tie before he left for work, wishing him luck before another case.
Now, he did it himself.
Maybe these little routines were all he had left.
Or maybe they were just—
formalities.
My eyes wandered toward the second shelf.
Mom’s mug was still there.
Untouched.
Unmoved.
Dad had never moved it.
Neither had I.
I stood up and picked up my navy-blue bag.
I’d bought it when I was around ten.
I hadn’t used it in years.
Until now.
Somehow, it felt strangely appropriate for my life.
Dark blue.
Old.
Forgotten.
And hanging from its zipper was a tiny rabbit charm.
Mom used to tell me that rabbits meant joy.
I looked at it.
Where is the joy?
My fingers tightened around the strap.
She lied to me.
I noticed Dad staring at me.
His eyes narrowed slightly.
For a moment, it felt like I was looking at someone I hadn’t seen in years.
There were more wrinkles on his face now.
More silence in his eyes.
But he didn’t look weak.
Not even once.
Had he forgotten what weakness felt like?
Or had he simply learned how to hide it?
He walked toward me and took my palm in his.
“Princess…”
His voice softened.
“Anything troubling you?”
My throat tightened.
My voice felt trapped somewhere between my emotions and reality.
Or maybe between—
reality and the pretend world.
I cleared my throat.
Then I smiled.
Warm.
Practiced.
Fake.
“Why would you ask that, Dad? I’m doing all good.”
He studied my face.
“You seemed to be dreaming, Princess. I guess I need to hire someone to check your sleep schedule.”
He sighed.
Then his expression softened.
“Well, I asked you a question, Moon…”
This was my life.
Dad was overly protective.
Paranoid, too.
I usually brushed it off as Daddy’s Worry Issues.
But sometimes…
Sometimes I wondered if it was something more.
“Oh. About the ride…”
I paused.
“Umm… Dad, I texted Nana. She said she’ll be here in five minutes.”
Dad gave me a half-hug before turning toward Chris.
“Follow me.”
I watched him leave.
Then I followed him outside.
The morning air felt colder than it should have.
I stood in the parking lot, waiting for Nana.
A smooth M4 roared to life before disappearing down the driveway.
Effortless.
Just like me.
Maybe.
A Ford Endeavour pulled into the parking lot.
Nana lowered her glasses and gestured toward the passenger seat.
I got in.
She was the kind of person who never accepted weak excuses.
Sometimes, she reminded me of Dad.
Which was exactly why she could be annoying.
Of course, I couldn’t tell Dad that.
He’d probably assume I was missing my past and start showering me with gifts until I forgot what I was even upset about.
Nana glanced at me.
Then again.
And again.
Yeah.
She was a good observer.
“So…”
She tilted her head.
“Here we go. Sera with the sadistic butt face again?”
I sighed.
“I hope you understood what I wanted to ask.”
“Why won’t you ask directly, then?”
She raised an eyebrow.
“And what is it?”
“OMG…”
She stared at me.
“You don’t know?”
A pause.
“What. Is. It?”
She said each word dramatically before stepping on the accelerator.
“Fine.” I sighed. “Yes. I’m thinking about—”
“You ain’t thinking, gurl.”
She grinned.
“You’re overthinking.”
I stared at her.
“Yeah. I am.”
I looked out the window.
“I overthink everything I see around me.”
“Come on, gurl. You ain’t fun like that.”
I knew what she was trying to do.
She wanted me to lighten up.
Especially with what was coming.
That girl.
Anshika.
We’d been calling her a chatterbox since our first year.
The yapper.
The reason our group could never experience five minutes of silence.
And honestly?
I loved her for it.
Because she wasn’t dull like me.
She was cheerful.
Bright.
Alive.
Everything I had forgotten how to be.
Long ago.









Also, thanks for the suggestion!
the atmosphere of the storys seems comforting in a unique way...
imagine having almost everything seeming fine around you, but you're still stuck in the storms of your past,
truly relatable 👏
wow, that's so creative of you!