Jay realized something strange on Tuesday morning.
He was humming.
Not loudly. Not even consciously. Just a low, absent tune slipping out while he poured hot water into his coffee cup. It took a few seconds before he noticed—and when he did, he stopped, slightly embarrassed, like someone caught talking to themselves.
"…Huh."
The coffee still tasted bad.
Some things, thankfully, hadn't changed.
He leaned against the counter, watching steam rise from the cup. Outside, the city moved in its usual rhythm. No flickers. No pauses. No invisible pressure tugging at his chest.
Just another morning.
And for once, that didn't feel disappointing.
---
School felt lighter too.
Not in any dramatic way—no sudden joy, no life-altering revelation. Just fewer thoughts piling on top of each other. Jay found himself listening instead of scanning rooms for clocks. He noticed jokes he would've missed before. Laughed when someone tripped over their own words during a presentation.
During history class, the teacher mentioned Emperor Parikshit again.
Jay felt the familiar echo stir—then fade.
He didn't tense.
He didn't brace.
He simply wrote the name down and moved on.
That alone felt like progress.
---
Lunch was spent under the solar trees, like usual.
Reina sat across from him, poking at her food with a fork. She glanced up mid-bite and paused.
"You're smiling," she said.
Jay blinked. "Am I?"
"Yeah. Not the 'I survived something traumatic' smile. The normal one."
He considered that.
"…Nice."
Reina studied him for a moment longer, then nodded to herself. "Good."
They ate in comfortable silence after that, interrupted only by passing students and the hum of the trees adjusting their leaves.
At one point, Reina said casually, "You know, I didn't check the archives last night."
Jay looked up. "Yeah?"
She shrugged. "Didn't feel like it."
He smiled again. "Same."
---
After school, Jay took the long way home.
Not because he had somewhere to be—
but because he didn't.
He stopped by a small bookstore tucked between two older buildings, the kind that smelled like dust and paper and time spent slowly. He browsed without buying anything, running his fingers along spines he didn't recognize.
No sudden memories surfaced.
No symbols burned behind his eyes.
Just curiosity.
He liked that.
---
That evening, he cooked actual food.
Nothing impressive. Rice, vegetables, something vaguely resembling a proper meal. He burned the first batch slightly and ate it anyway.
While waiting for the second attempt, he messaged his family.
> Jay: Made dinner. Didn't mess it up too badly.
Yukimin: impossible
Jay: wow
Hima: I'm proud of you
Jorge: Did you clean the kitchen after
Jay: …we'll discuss that later
Jay laughed quietly and set the phone aside.
---
Later, he sat by the window with a book he hadn't finished in weeks.
The city lights flickered on below, one by one, steady and predictable. Somewhere nearby, someone practiced an instrument badly but enthusiastically.
Jay listened.
Once, he would've thought about what it meant.
Now, he just thought it sounded nice.
He glanced at the clock on the wall.
It ticked.
Once.
Twice.
Nothing else happened.
Jay leaned back, exhaling slowly.
"…Yeah," he murmured. "This is good."
For the first time in a long while, he wasn't afraid of forgetting.
Because he wasn't losing anything worth keeping.
Some memories could rest.
Some stories could end.
And some lives—quiet, ordinary ones—were more than enough.
Jay closed the book, turned off the light, and let the night settle around him.
Tomorrow would come.
And that was fine.