Chapter 2: A Shattered Foundation

Maria had always believed that if she worked hard enough, if she pushed herself past exhaustion, she could build a life she could be proud of. That was why she had taken on the late nights, the extra shifts, the suffocating weight of responsibilities that should have been shared. Because in the end, it would all be worth it….right?

But as she sat in her boss's office that afternoon, fingers twisted tightly in her lap, she realized how foolish that hope had been.

Kelly, a sharp-eyed woman in her early fifties, adjusted her glasses and sighed, tapping a neatly manicured nail against her desk. "Maria, I'll get straight to the point. The company is making some cutbacks."

Maria felt her stomach twist. "What?"

Kelly folded her hands over the desk, looking at Maria with an expression that wasn't quite pity, but close enough to sting. "We have to let you go."

The words hit like a slap. Maria blinked, feeling as if she had misheard her. Let her go? After everything she had done for this company? After the overtime, the weekends, the endless sacrifices?

"There must be a mistake," she said quickly, her voice tight. "I've been here for months . I'm one of the hardest workers"

"It's not about that," Kelly interrupted. "Your department was downsized. It's not personal."

Not personal.

Maria's ears buzzed, her vision swimming slightly. This job had been her lifeline, her stability, the one thing that gave her a sense of control when everything else in her life felt like quicksand.

And now, just like that, it was gone.

She swallowed, forcing herself to keep her composure. "When is my last day?"

Kelly hesitated. "Today."

Maria's breath hitched. They weren't even giving her time to process it. She had walked into this building that morning, unaware that it would be the last time.

She stood slowly, pushing back the numbness creeping through her. She would not break down here. Not in front of them.

"Thank you for the opportunity," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. Then she turned, walking out of the office with her head held high, even as her whole world crumbled beneath her feet.

By the time she reached the apartment, her hands were shaking.

She fumbled with the key, forcing herself to breathe. It was fine. She would figure something out. She always did.

But when she stepped inside, the first thing she saw was Daniel …sprawled out on the couch, game controller in hand, just like always.

Maria stood frozen in the doorway, staring at him. The apartment was a mess …takeout boxes, empty soda cans, laundry piled in the corner. Had he even moved since this morning?

Something inside her snapped.

She dropped her bag onto the floor, the sound making Daniel glance up lazily. "You're home early."

Maria let out a harsh, humorless laugh. "Yeah. Because I got fired."

Daniel's eyes flickered with something that might have been surprise, but it was gone too quickly to be real. "Oh."

That was it. Oh.

Not Are you okay? Not I'm sorry, we'll figure this out.

Just Oh.

Maria's nails dug into her palms. "That's all you have to say?"

Daniel shrugged. "It sucks, but it's not the end of the world. You'll find something else, maybe you did something wrong ."

The casual dismissal of her pain, of the fear curling in her chest, made her want to scream. "Daniel, I was the only one working! How are we supposed to pay rent? How are we supposed to survive?"

Daniel sighed, as if her panic was an inconvenience to him. "Relax, Maria. You stress over everything. Maybe this is a sign that you should take a break."

A break.

Maria felt a bitter laugh bubble up. Did he think she had been working because she wanted to? Because she enjoyed killing herself every day while he sat here doing nothing?

"I don't have the luxury of taking a break, Daniel," she snapped. "Unlike you, I don't get to sit around all day waiting for life to hand me opportunities."

His expression darkened. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Maria let out a sharp breath. "It means that while I was out there working, trying to keep us afloat, you were sitting on your ass doing nothing."

Daniel sat up, his face twisting into a frown. "That's not fair."

"No?" Maria stepped closer, hands trembling. "Tell me, Daniel—what exactly have you done in better in your life ? What have you contributed?"

He opened his mouth, then shut it, his jaw tightening.

Maria shook her head. "You don't even want to try. You promised me you'd look for a job, and yet every time I ask, you have an excuse. Every time I need support, you disappear. And now, when I've lost everything, you can't even pretend to care."

Daniel scoffed. "You're being dramatic."

Maria let out a sharp, humorless laugh. "Dramatic? Dramatic would be throwing your damn game console out the window and watching you finally do something with your life."

Daniel's expression hardened. "So what, you think you're better than me?"

Maria's stomach twisted. "No, Daniel. I just thought we were in this together."

For the first time, she saw it clearly—the truth she had been avoiding. Daniel wasn't a partner. He never had been.

She had spent so long trying to fix him, trying to mold him into the man she thought he could be. But the truth was, he didn't want to be fixed.

And she was tired. So, so tired.

A heavy silence settled between them. Maria could feel the weight of her words hanging in the air, the reality of their situation sinking in.

Daniel exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "Look, we'll figure it out. I'll start looking for something, okay?"

But Maria had heard that before.

And for the first time, she didn't believe him.

She turned away, rubbing at her temples. "I can't do this right now."

Daniel sighed, already picking up his controller again. "Whatever."

Maria stood there for a long moment, staring at the back of his head.

It had never been more clear: She was alone in this.

She had always been alone in this.

And for the first time, she wondered if she wanted to keep fighting for a marriage that had never truly been a partnership.

She wasn't sure of the answer.

But she knew one thing: Something had to change.

And for the first time in years, she wasn't afraid of what that might mean.