Mila's POV
"You know, when you embrace the darkness so much, waking up to the light feels like facing everything wrong in your life. The problems you hoped would stay hidden are suddenly in your hands."
I didn't want to face my pathetic life anymore. The one where I struggled to make ends meet, to take care of my mom and sister.
But like everything good, it had to end. I couldn't stay in this darkness forever. The loud bang on my door jolted me awake.
"Mila, get up!" My mom's voice echoed through the door. Slowly, I opened my eyes, the light hitting me with the weight of my reality.
"Mila, you can't be late for this interview today. Get up, you lazy butt!" She continued to bang on my door.
Hesitantly, I forced myself out of bed and dragged myself to open the door. My mom stood there, yelling at me.
"Why are you yelling so loud?" I rubbed my heavy eyes, annoyed.
"Mila, what's wrong with you? Do you want to miss this interview?" She crossed her arms, glaring at me.
"Mom, this one will be just another rejection. I'm tired of it. Tired of hearing the same thing—'No experience, not a good fit.' How am I supposed to get experience if no one will hire me?" Frustration poured out of me.
"I know how you feel, sweetie, but you won't know unless you try," she said, her voice softening as she stroked my hair.
I wanted to protest, but she continued, "Mila, this might be it. We need this job. And if it doesn't work out, you always have your shift at the coffee shop."
Her words carried the warmth of hope, but my heart felt heavy. The bills were piling up, and the coffee shop couldn't cover it all. I had to do this. Not just for me, but for Mom and Lila.
I quickly showered, got dressed, and rushed down to the kitchen to grab a quick breakfast.
"Good morning, Millie!" My younger sister, Lila, greeted me with a wide grin.
"Lila... when are you going to get my name right?" I tapped her cheek lightly, smiling despite myself.
She rolled her eyes and went back to her food.
Ignoring her grumbling, I grabbed a bowl of cereal and an apple, then bent down to kiss her goodbye. "Get to school on time, okay?"
She smirked. "As if going to school helps you, Sis." She waved me off with a sarcastic grin.
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I forced a smile, but I knew she had a point. After all the years of schooling, the student loan, and working as a barista, I had nothing to show for it.
Taking a deep breath, I asked the universe for a break. I couldn't take another rejection.
I caught the first train out of there, my heart pounding in my chest as I made my way to the company. With every step, the pressure mounted.
The receptionist greeted me warmly and led me to the office where my interview would take place. I waited, my nerves eating me up.
Then she walked in—blonde, beautiful, dressed head to toe in black. Her heels clicked on the ceramic tiles with every step, each sound causing my anxiety to spike.
"Mila Brown?" she asked, her voice cool, scanning me with an intimidating glare.
"Ye-yes," I stammered, clearing my throat.
She smiled briefly, returning her attention to the papers in her hand.
Minutes passed—long, agonizing minutes. I felt her eyes on me, but she didn't say a word. Then, she cleared her throat.
"Miss Brown," she began, her voice colder than before. "I'm very sorry, but we can't offer you the job at this time. You lack the necessary experience."
The words hit me like a ton of bricks, and I felt the anger bubbling up inside me. My hands balled into fists.
"No, please. You can't do this. I'm more than qualified!" I pleaded, desperate. "Please, I need this job!"
Her expression remained unchanged. "It's out of my hands. Please see yourself out."
"No!" I screamed, feeling everything inside me snap. This was my last chance. I wasn't going to let it slip away without a fight.
In my rage, I started destroying the office, throwing things in every direction. I was a madwoman, screaming at the top of my lungs, not caring who saw.
Security rushed in and forcibly removed me from the building.
The cold rejection consumed me. I stumbled out onto the busy street, tears streaming down my face, barely aware of my surroundings. My world felt like it was crashing down around me.
I wandered aimlessly, too numb to care, until I crossed the street without realizing it. A car screeched to a halt just inches away from me.
"Are you crazy?!" A man's voice boomed, his anger mixing with concern. "I almost ran you over!"
I turned to look at him, and my breath caught. His eyes—silver-grey, sharp, piercing—held me in place.
"Do you have a death wish or something?" he snapped, but I didn't wait for him to finish. I turned and walked away, ignoring him, my mind spinning.
I didn't go home. Instead, I made my way to the coffee shop, where my only job awaited me. Walking in, I felt the weight of my failure pressing down on me. Maya, my best friend, greeted me with a wide smile.
"You're early for your shift," she said, raising an eyebrow.
I nodded, too drained to respond. My emotions were a tangled mess.
Maya noticed the sadness in my eyes, the tears I was trying to hide, and without a word, pulled me into a tight hug.
"Another rejection?" she asked softly.
I nodded. "I just can't take it anymore, Maya. I'm done."
She pulled away, her eyes filled with concern. "Don't give up, Mila. There's always next time."
"I don't think anyone's going to hire me now," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
I felt the sting of my words as I walked away to serve a customer. Hours passed, and my mind continued to race. When I was finally about to leave, Maya pulled me aside.
"I've got it, Mila!" she said, her voice full of excitement.
I raised an eyebrow. "What now?"
With a grin, Maya handed me her tablet.
"Look at this. It's the answer to your problem," she said, almost bouncing with joy.
Reluctantly, I looked at the screen. It was a job posting for a personal assistant.
My heart sank. "Maya, what is this?"
She smiled, her eyes bright. "I realized what you've been doing wrong. You've been aiming too high. Start small. You need to gain experience, even if it's a lower position."
I hesitated, but seeing her point, I agreed. There were no other options.
As I returned to my shift, my mind wandered back to the man on the street. His eyes haunted me, and I couldn't stop asking myself:
Who was he?