"Here, have some tea," her mother said, placing the tray on the side table. Her voice was light, smiling — almost too light. Jay reached for the cup silently, not looking at her.
As she brought the warm mug to her lips, the sweet scent of cocoa wafted into her nose, rich and familiar. The first sip was like a small embrace — warmth curling through her chest, momentarily pushing back the chill still lingering in her bones. Cocoa had always been her guilty pleasure. Sweetness, for Jay, was a kind of medicine — a softness she craved when the world felt too sharp.
Now, after the catastrophe of a day she had endured, the cocoa felt like it was absorbing her pain, one swallow at a time. Her shoulders loosened. Her breath calmed. The sting of the bus, the cold on the porch, the locked door — they weren't gone, but they didn't hurt as much in this moment.
Her mother, sitting across from her with her own cup, finally spoke.
"So... how was your day?"
Jay sipped again, her gaze fixed somewhere past the cup. "Nothing. Just as usual," she said quietly.
"As usual? Come on, something fun must've happened," her mother pressed.
Jay shook her head, lips barely parting. "Nah, Mama. Just a normal day."
Her mother gave a dramatic sigh, leaning back into her seat. "Ah, you never share anything with me. And then you say I don't spend time with you."
She stood up with a shrug, lifting her empty cup and handing it to Jay. "Okay, I'm going. It's time for my serial. Finish yours and take these to the kitchen, will you? Wash them too."
Without waiting for a response, she walked out, humming a tune from her show.
Jay blinked after her. She looked down at the two cups, both still faintly steaming, and gave a small sigh before placing her mother's back on the tray. She continued sipping her own, blowing over it every now and then, watching the ripples break the reflection of the ceiling light.
This was... usual. This had become a norm. A smile that didn't reach the eyes. A conversation that grazed the surface but never once dipped beneath. She didn't know what had gone wrong, or when exactly it had, but lately everything felt dull and loud all at once. She was tired all the time. Easily irritated. Too sensitive for everything, and too numb to feel much of anything properly.
And her parents? They just wanted her to do as they asked — nothing more, nothing less. No questions. No chaos. No complaints. All peace and calm no commotions no issues.
Jay stared into the mug until it was empty, then carried the tray to the kitchen. She washed the cups in silence, and put them back on the stand.
As she returned to her room, her phone buzzed on the nightstand. The screen lit up. And it said.
Unknown Number
1 new message
Hi.
Jay stared at it, her thumb hovering over the screen. Her brows furrowed slightly. No name. No emoji. Just one simple word.
She blinked, wiped her hands on her pajama pants, and slowly unlocked the phone.
Should she reply? Should she ignore it? She thought as she sat at the edge of her bed, phone in hand, thumb hovering just above the glowing text bubble.
Hi.
Just two letters, yet impossible to ignore.
She stared at the screen, feeling the pulse of her own uncertainty rise in her throat. It wasn't the kind of "Hi" you could instantly reply to with a "Hello" or "Who's this?" — not when your mind was already a tangled mess of the day's weight.
Her first thought was: Spam?
But no. There was something about it… something deliberate. No promotional links, no aggressive greetings or emojis. Just... Hi.
Second thought: Someone I know? But who?
She scrolled up — there was no previous conversation thread. No saved name. No hint.
Her mind started running wild — as it always did when the world finally got quiet and her thoughts got loud.
Maybe it's that guy from the pharmacy? No... he didn't ask for my number, did he? No way. That'd be weird. Nah its not him … then…. Yeahh….Maybe the girl from the bus? But how would she have gotten my number? Unless... maybe she asked someone? But why would she text now?I don't even know her… or do i????"
Jay frowned slightly.
She brought her knees up to her chest and rested her chin on them, still holding the phone in one hand, the message glaring back at her in the dim glow of her room. She could still hear the faint buzz of her mother's TV serial in the background, the laugh track jarring against the stillness in her heart.
She closed her eyes for a moment, breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth, just like that peppermint oil man had told her to do. Inhale for calm. Exhale for clarity. It had helped then, hadn't it? She thought. And then suddenly took her bag and started searching into it. Finally she took out the medicine pouch she had got from the pharmacy and the peppermint oil that had embarrassed her today. She took her prescribed medicine and hid the rest of the medicine and applied peppermint oil on her temples, then she took her phone. Her fingers tapped gently on the edge of the phone.
Well the the truth was… it was not that jay didn't care but actually she cared too much… she hadn't received an unexpected message — not a real one — in quite some time. Every notification on her phone lately had been a deadline, a reminder, or a request. Nothing simple. Nothing that felt like someone just… wanted to say hello.
Finally she mustered up the courage and typed slowly.
Paused.
Deleted.
Typed again.
Paused.
Then finally, after one more breath, she replied:
who?
She used all small letter to give the idea that she didn't care. The message sent with a soft whoosh, and Jay stared at the screen, heart ticking louder with every second that followed.