There’s something oddly calming about washing my face before bed. It’s more than just hygiene—it feels like closing a book at the end of the day. I stand at the sink, splash the warm water, and imagine all the little stresses of work, errands, and conversations going right down the drain.

My routine isn’t fancy. A gentle cleanser, sometimes a spritz of toner, and a moisturizer that feels just heavy enough to sink in overnight. I’ve learned it doesn’t take a ten-step system to feel cared for. What matters is consistency and that moment of pause before I crawl into bed.

Some nights I’ll treat myself to a mask or even just sit for a minute longer, breathing slowly while my skin drinks in the moisturizer. It’s a ritual, not a chore, and it signals to my body: the day is over, rest now.