THE VOICENOTE
On getting home after a stressful day at work, Elara felt every ounce of exhaustion settle into
her bones. She worked at the famous House of Mandi LA, just a few blocks from her apartment,
Which saved her the cost of taking a cab. Not that she could afford one every day anyway—her
Salary barely covered food and rent, let alone extra expenses.
Though House of Mandi was known around the block, it paid her just enough—not enough to
make her rich, but enough to make sure she returned the next day.
Monday had been especially brutal. Elara walked into her apartment looking like a mess. She
shrugged off her red blouse and sharp red skirt, letting them fall onto a chair, and tossed her
handbag onto the bed. Collapsing onto the mattress, she closed her eyes and silently wished
someone would carry her to the bathroom—she was that drained.
After what felt like an eternity, she found the strength to stand. She grabbed a towel, wrapped it
around herself, and made her way to the bathroom. Her fingers held the cold metal of the
doorknob. She opened the door, stepped inside, and let it shut behind her.
Elara unwrapped the towel slightly to catch a glimpse of herself in the mirror.
Her reflection stared back at her, pale-eyed, mouth tight, like someone who hadn’t spoken the
truth in years. She studied the face before her and couldn’t help but think how drastically life had
shifted—how she had gone from grace to grass. Once, she had everything anyone could want.
Once, her surname opened doors before she even spoke. Once, she had people working for
her. Now, she worked for someone else, earning just enough to keep herself going.
She turned away from the mirror with a heavy sigh. “I’m fuckin’ tired,” she whispered to herself.
The shower called, and she stepped under the cold stream first. The water bit at her skin, sharp
and unrelenting. She twisted the knob toward warmth, letting the comforting warm water pour
over her head, through her hair, over her shoulders. She tilted her head forward, eyes closed,
hands pressed against the tiled wall, and let the heat seep into her aching muscles.
Even as she stood under the warm water, her mind refused to quiet. She had tried to push the
thoughts from the mirror aside, but they clung to her. It was too heartbreaking to forget in just a
moment.
She wished, desperately, that the water could wash away her problems. But it didn’t. It only
washed her body.
“I wish it never happened,” she murmured, her voice trembling, almost breaking into tears.
Elara stepped out of the bathroom after bathing, feeling lighter somehow, as if the warm water
had washed away not just the day’s stress, but also some of the weight of her thoughts. She
wrapped the towel around herself, opened the bathroom door, and stepped out.
Her left foot landed on the mat at the bathroom entrance. The inscription read: “YOU RULE.”
Elara blinked, seeing it as if for the first time. A small, genuine smile tugged at her lips. She
made her way to the wardrobe, her fingers brushing lightly against the cool wooden surface.
She used the towel to dry herself, then changed into her nightwear—a soft pink top and long
pajama pants dotted with little teddy bears. The fabric was comforting, familiar, almost like a hug
from herself.
She paused on the bed for a moment, letting herself admire the room. It was painted a soft,
calming blue, her favorite shade. Posters of her favorite stars covered the walls, a gallery of
memories and dreams she had once held dear. Though it wasn’t luxurious, it had everything she
needed: warmth, comfort, a sense of safety.Elara reached for the bulb switch above her head and changed the light to a soft blue glow. She
loved the color—it had a way of calming her, making her chest feel lighter each time she saw it.
She lay down on her bed, staring at the ceiling, inhaling and exhaling deeply. Sleep felt far
away, but at least her body had regained some of its strength. She wondered how to kill time
without exhausting herself further.
Her hand drifted to her phone. Opening w******p, she began scrolling through her unread
messages. One caught her eye—a voice note from her friend Cynthia, she used to work at
HOM before she got something better. She pressed play.
“Heyyyyy Lara! How are you holding up these past few days? I know it’s been tough, especially
not having me around. Okay, so, listen—just discovered this site that matches you with
someone special. Basically, a dating app. I felt like you should try it. Honestly, Lara, you deserve
something amazing outside work. You’re amazing, don’t you think it’s time to have someone to
share all that with? Try it out and tell me what you think!”
Elara froze, phone still close to her ear. The words lingered in her mind, echoing softly. Slowly,
she put the phone down, her fingers hovering over the screen. She bit her lip, shifted her
position, fidgeted slightly.
“What if this is silly… or just a bad idea?” she murmured to herself.
Her gaze stayed on the phone, her heart tightening in quiet anticipation. Then, a tiny spark of
resolve lit up inside her.
“I know exactly what to do,” she whispered, a shaky attempt to convince herself she had
this—though deep down, she had no clue what she was about to step into.
Elara sat up on her bed, trying to make sense of what Cynthia had said. Somehow, sitting
upright felt like it might help her think clearer.
She picked up her phone, still warm from earlier, the screen glowing softly against the gentle
blue light that washed her room. She unlocked it, stared at the screen for a moment, then
exhaled slowly.
“So… a dating app, huh?” she murmured, voice barely above a whisper.
Her thumbs hovered over the screen as she scrolled, hunting for the App Store. When she
found it, she tapped, scanning through dozens of apps. One caught her eye—TINDER.
She tapped it, reading reviews as she scrolled down. People seemed to like it. She scrolled
back up, locating the install button, and froze.
For a long second, she just stared at it, phone resting on her knees. Cynthia’s voice echoed
softly in her head: “Just try it out.”
Elara groaned, rubbing her face with her hands. “Trying things rarely end well for me,” she
whispered.
Still, she reached out for the phone again. Her fingers hovered over the download icon, moving
closer, then retreating. She stared at the ceiling, then back at the icon, as if it might bite her.
“Fucken press the damn icon,” she muttered to herself.
Stupid. Ridiculous. Unnecessary. And yet, her thumbs obeyed. The download circle began to
spin.
She held her phone with both hands, fidgeting as though this tiny tap could somehow decide the
course of her entire life. She stared, unblinking, at the slowly filling progress bar. Her heart
raced faster than it should, echoing in her chest.When the download finally finished, she didn’t open the app. Instead, she locked the screen
again and tossed the phone onto the bed. She lay back, staring at the ceiling, chest tight.
What am I even doing?
Minutes passed. Her hands were slightly sweaty, which she wiped against her pajama pants
before reaching for the phone again. The app sat there, quiet, doing nothing—just waiting.
Elara tapped the open icon. The app launched with a soft, almost romantic animation, cool
colors spilling across the screen. A welcome screen asked her to get started. She skimmed it
without really reading, mind already swimming with doubts.
Do I even have the strength for this? What if someone I know sees me here? What if it’s
embarrassing?
She scrolled, thumbs moving stiffly, barely registering the profiles. Faces blurred
together—names, smiles, backgrounds—none of it registering.
It felt strange, distant, like she was watching someone else’s life instead of living her own. Her
thumbs felt heavy, almost useless .
“I am not this person,” she whispered, voice tense.
She minimized the app, staring blankly at her home screen. The app suddenly felt too loud, too
visible.
Long-pressing the icon brought up options. DELETE APP glared at her in bold red letters. Her
fingers hovered above it. Heart thudding, breath shallow, she frowned at herself. All this tension
over… an app?
It’s just an app. Nothing serious. Nothing permanent.
Still, it felt exhausting—like she’d already given up before even starting.
Cynthia’s voice returned softly in her head: “Just try it out.”
Elara closed her eyes for a few seconds, then opened them. Instead of tapping DELETE, she let
her fingers drift away, leaving the app there. She locked her phone and placed it face down
beside her.
Her eyes lingered on the window across the room. Thoughts tangled, chest tightening with
something that felt like a mix of fear and… possibility.
Her fingers twitched, itching to flip the phone back over—but she didn’t. Not yet.
Elara picked up her phone and unlocked it. Her thumb hovered over the Tinder icon that had
been sitting there on her home screen. She tapped it. A soft, red glow spread across the blue
light of her room. She tapped again, a little harder this time, as if sheer force could make it
easier to begin.
