Chapter Two: A Sip of Luck, A Bite of Fate

As I struggled to get out of bed, rays of sunlight poured into the room. My body protested, craving more sleep, but I knew I couldn't afford to rest any longer—I needed to find a job urgently. My week had been consumed with applications and interviews, yet none had yielded positive results.

Seated on the edge of the bed, I stared blankly at the wall, replaying my blunders in various interviews in my mind. It was finally Friday, and I was out of options; I had tried everything and, sadly, none of it turned out well.

Suddenly, the rich aroma of coffee wafted through the air, bringing back memories of late-night cramming and quiet morning conversations. I turned to see Samantha offering me a cup, her makeup smudged on her face like a Picasso painting gone rogue. Clearly, she had been too worn out to remove it before collapsing in bed.

I burst out laughing. "You should see yourself; you look like a hungover clown!" I teased, playfully pointing at her between giggles.

"Very funny!" she shot back sarcastically, rolling her eyes and plopping down on my bed with the dramatic flair of a woman who had lived through an apocalypse—and hosted it.

Samantha often attended her wild parties to unwind, though I found that kind of stress relief more overwhelming than liberating. She had invited me to one of her get-togethers that evening, but I was too exhausted to even reply. All I could think about was getting some sleep, especially since I was the kind of person who preferred hitting the sack early and binge-watching interior design fails.

"Looks like no job offers today, aside from this high-end home design company looking for a receptionist," Samantha said, staring at the ceiling and waving her hands dramatically. "I doubt they'll take you, though; those posh companies can be so picky. You'd probably have some spoiled rich kid bossing you around."

I glanced at the floor, feeling the weight of potential disappointment piling on. But I knew I had to take that chance; this could be my lucky break. Or a complete disaster. Either way, at least it'd be a story.

I sat there for a moment, shaking off my drowsiness while contemplating how the day would unfold. Samantha had already drifted to sleep, snuggled up like a carefree child who had no memory of adult responsibilities. I envied her ease.

I gulped down the now-cold coffee and quickly picked up the papers on the wooden table beside my bed, scanning through them.

"Well done again, Samantha Wilder," I muttered to myself before standing up to recite my morning mantra: "It's time to run the race, Everly Blossom!" I stretched and headed to the bathroom for a shower, determined to face the day with fresh breath and false hope.

---

Moments later, I sat nervously in front of a large door, biting my nails—a habit I struggled to control. The hallway was quiet, polished, and unforgiving. To distract myself, I admired the elegance of the building, taken in by its impressive design meant to lure customers into trusting the brand more than their own intuition.

The ceiling was adorned with a stunning chandelier, casting soft light across the room with its shimmering crystals in hues of white, gold, cream, and blue. Everything sparkled—floors, walls, stairs—indicating that the cleaners were either elite or secretly enchanted.

Upon entering the building, a tall Asian woman, likely Chinese, had greeted me with a professional smile and directed me to the appointment area. There, I was informed that I needed to engage with some children—presumably clients' kids—an interaction I hoped to handle well despite not being fluent in toddler.

After a short wait, the same woman returned and, after a nod, rang the bell on the office door. "Come in!" a commanding voice called from inside.

She entered and soon reappeared with a warm smile, revealing her striking green eyes and sharp nose.

"You can go in now," she said, gesturing toward the door.

"Thank you," I replied, smiling back as I stepped inside. The door clicked shut behind me like a lock on a vault.

I remained beside the door, hesitant to move. A blonde man sat across the room, facing a glass wall like a villain in a spy movie. How cliché, I thought, while my heart decided to tango.

The room was minimalistic—just a large table and a small shelf with a dim lamp flickering like it was trying to survive.

"Take a seat; I don't bite," a voice interrupted my thoughts, low and amused.

Realizing I had been frozen in place, I quickly walked to the chair in front of the desk and sat down.

When the man turned to face me, I noticed his features—sharp, clean, and deliberate, like someone had carved him from a mold labeled 'unavailable but lethal.' He likely held a top position within the company—someone many would easily swoon over. But I had sworn off dating years ago, so I was immune. Sort of.

His gaze met mine—piercing, cold, assessing. The silence that followed was not comfortable. It wasn't even neutral. It was... investigative.

I adjusted in my seat and cleared my throat.

"Okay, I don't want to waste time, so let's get to the point," he said, leaning back in his chair, his voice smooth yet commanding. I nodded in agreement, though my palms were slick.

"I saw how you interacted with those children," he said. "I liked it. You can have the job."

Just like that? I blinked.

That smirk was back. Arrogant. Almost challenging. My stomach flipped.

"Thank you, sir," I said, sitting up straighter. My smile felt too wide.

"I would suggest you start tomorrow, but since it's the weekend, you'll begin on Monday at 8 PM sharp. Don't be late."

8 PM? That was... odd. But I nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Alright, see you later, Miss Blossom."

I stood and headed toward the door.

"Oh, and come straight to my office," his voice called after me.

"Yes, sir!" My voice cracked in the dumbest way possible.

As I exited, the Chinese woman—now officially the most composed person I'd met all week—was waiting.

"Did you get the job?" she asked eagerly.

"Yes, I did! Thank you!" I said, grinning like a lottery winner.

She smiled warmly, placing her slender fingers on my shoulder. "Call me Mia."

"I'm Blossom," I replied, following her toward the exit.

"See you later, Blossom!" she called out as I left the building.

I nodded and stepped into the sunlight.

For the first time in a week, the air felt like relief.

I had a job.

I had a start.