“Maybe I’ll go out tomorrow,” Cyren mumbled, as her shoulders dropped and she climbed inside her car.
She couldn’t say she’d rather been at home over another place, but it was where she could hide. At least for now. Cyren started her car and pulled out of the lot, already knowing Society or any other lounge wouldn’t be seeing her tonight.
The five-bedroom,four-and-a-half-bathroom home was somewhat quiet as Cyren used her key to open and enter the front door. It’d been that way since she moved in with her aunt, Nia, and cousin, Skylar, seven months ago. Silence seemed to be a natural greeting, and each day, it felt heavier than the last.
She stood in the foyer, listening for the sound of her cousin and what she was doing. Skylar’s voice carried into the entryway, animated in a way that made Cyren loudly exhale. From the sounds of it, Skylar was either recording a video or live-streaming. Either way, Cyren wasn’t in the mood to hear her yapping for hours on end.
“I need to get my own place,” Cyren mumbled.
With the home’s design, she was able to escape to her bedroom for a few minutes without being noticed. Slipping her shoes off, she placed them inside the closet and tossed her bag and purse in the lounge chair near the dresser. Her room was simple.
It wasn’t unfinished, just untouched in a way that gave it the spark she’d normally add. It was difficult adding a spark to something when she didn’t have any to give.
A queen-sized bed sat centered against the wall, neatly made with neutral bedding that was the complete opposite of the vibrant colors she would’ve picked. There were no extra pillows or layered throws. It was made up just enough to be comfortable without feeling like she’d settled in. Across from it, a mounted fifty-five-inch TV hung on the wall and was probably the most used thing inside her room.
A couple of plants sat near the window. Their greenery was the only thing breaking up the stillness of the space. They were alive and growing; a small reminder of something she could keep up with. Off to the side, a lounge chair rested in the corner, angled just perfectly for her to watch TV.
No pictures hung on the walls. No personal touches gave a hint to her personality, or what it used to be. Cyren had only added what she needed to function, not what she needed to feel at home. It was easier that way. Easier to move around the space without getting attached to it. It’d be easier to leave if it ever came down to it, and whether she admitted it or not, that was always in the back of her mind.
Grabbing her phone, Cyren slipped on her house shoes and grabbed her lunch bag so she could wash the Tupperware inside. Begrudgingly, she walked down the hallway toward the kitchen. The glow from Skylar’s portable ring light illuminated the kitchen even more, while a video played out loud on her phone screen.
“And I’m telling you, if you blend it like this, you’re going to have a flawless beat every single time.”
Cyren didn’t know the woman speaking, but she knew it had to be a popular makeup artist or influencer. According to Skylar, she only watched and associated herself with the best. As a content creator and well-known influencer, Skylar had an air of entitlement and a snobby attitude that Cyren would never understand.
She sat perched on one of the barstools, with her legs crossed and phone in hand as she scrolled through her feed. Every few seconds, she’d double-tap the screen, swipe, then paused on something that caught her attention. Though she was sure she heard her, Cyren’s presence wasn’t acknowledged until she rounded the island.
“Oh!” Skylar chirped. “Hey. I didn’t know you were here.”
“Yeah,” Cyren mumbled, rolling her eyes while squeezing Dawn soap onto the dish rag. She said the wordhereas if saying home would’ve caused her physical harm.
“I don’t see how you do it. Working a nine-to-five is so...”
Cyren turned to face her, catching the scrunched-up look on her beautifully made-up face. Skylar’s external appearance, unfortunately, didn’t match her inner. She was gorgeous with smooth, brown skin that carried a natural glow. Her features were soft but structured, showcasing high cheekbones sitting pretty beneath almond-shaped eyes that always seemed to be quietly judging. Her nose was slim and straight, tapering just enough to give her profile that clean, sculpted look, while her lips were full and plush with a subtle pout.
Truthfully, she and Cyren could’ve passed as sisters, considering how closely they resembled. The only significant differences were Cyren’s rounder face and complexion. Its rich cocoa hue was deeper, and sun-kissed as if the sun had been faithful to giving her a satin finish. Her frame stood taller atfive-foot-ten, announcing her presence in any room she entered, without having to speak.
While Skylar’s straight, jet-black hair framed her face with a precise middle part, Cyren’s hair was a rich chestnut brown in soft, wild curls she liked to set with sponge rollers at night. Skylar’s look was polished, with not a strand out of place. Even when dressed casually in a fitted bandeau top and low-rise jeans while sitting at home, she carried herself as if she expected to be looked at and admired. Cyren didn’t see anything wrong with that. She, too, loved getting dolled up, but she figured it matched the beauty content, mini vlogs, and quick lifestyle updates Skylar enjoyed.
Where Skylar’s beauty felt curated and intentional down to the smallest detail, Cyren’s was effortless in a way that couldn’t be copied, no matter how close their resemblance ran. To anybody watching, it probably looked like Skylar had it all figured out. Yet, Cyren had always been able to see past the glossed-over version she showed the world; the carefully curated angles, the soft smiles that never quite reached her eyes, the way everything about her seemed like it needed to be seen to be validated.
It wasn’t that Skylar wasn’t beautiful, but that her beauty felt like a performance she never allowed herself to step out of. Sitting there now, with that same judgment sitting heavy in her expression, only confirmed what Cyren had long ago accepted. No matter how identical they might’ve looked on the outside, or how close their mothers were, they were nothing alike where it actually mattered.
“It’s so what?” Cyren wondered, lifting her brow.
“Limiting,” Skylar answered, shrugging.
Cyren shifted her weight, curious to know what she meant. “Limiting to who?”
“Anyone clocking in somewhere with nothing else going for themselves. That has to be so boring and draining.”
Cyren let out a soft exhale through her nose. It wasn’t quite a laugh, but more like a scoff. “That’s a bold assumption.”
Unbothered, Skylar shrugged. “It’s the truth.”
“Girl, no, it’s not,” Cyren said, smoothly. “Having a structured schedule doesn’t cancel out having ambition. That doesn’t mean someone who’s working a regular job isn’t also pursuing something else.”
Skylar pressed her lips together, feeling otherwise. “Again, limiting their full potential, fulfilling someone else’s dreams, and lining their pockets. I don’t ever want to be that comfortable.”
