Throat Sensation

Time slipped by like sand in a sieve. Vicky, meticulous as ever, moved swiftly through the grand meeting room, her hands steady despite the tight knot in her chest. The air was heavy with anticipation—one could almost cut through it with a knife.

She placed a cup of hot tea and a glass of red wine at every seat, each arrangement symmetrical, her signature flair subtly woven into the presentation.

"I know those black-suit board members will think I've lost my mind," she murmured with a mischievous grin, adjusting a coaster with precision. "But I like it this way. Mr. Jack told me to do it how I see fit."

She stepped back, hands on her hips, eyeing the setup. "Okay... two minutes until they walk in. The tea will hit perfect sipping temperature... mission accomplished. Salute, Mom—ah, wait!"

She fumbled for her phone, snapped a photo, and whispered, "Gotta show Mommy... she'd be proud."

Just then, Jack entered, inspecting the room with raised brows and a subtle nod of approval.

"This is impressive," he said, pacing between the chairs. "Very... human. But... what is this?" He gestured to the paired drinks.

Vicky beamed. "That's what I call Throat Sensation. You see, when those tycoons start battling over numbers and projections, they'll drain themselves out. Dry throats. So I gave them options—soothing tea or a bit of red wine. Simple... yet powerful."

Jack chuckled. "I'll admit, it's a first for me. But I like it. Let's hope your idea wins them over."

"It will," Vicky said confidently, her eyes sparkling. "Trust Victoria, dude."

"I do," Jack said, patting her shoulder. "I'm going to get changed. We'll regroup in the evening?"

She blinked. "Wait, won't they need me for the meeting?"

He shook his head gently. "No. You've done your part. Everything's crystal clear. But... I did peek at your schedule—accidentally—and you're supposed to be at the hospital by 2 p.m."

Vicky's expression softened. "Oh... thank you, sir."

"Jack will do."

"I'll call you that... when it's time," she replied playfully.

The boardroom doors eventually opened, and the executives walked in, suits sharp, eyes weary. But their expressions shifted as they took in the setting.

"There's... tea?" one woman whispered.

"I'm not even a tea fan, but this is different," another murmured, lifting the cup to her lips.

"Who set this up? Some unicorn-loving romantic?" someone joked, but their smirk melted into a surprised hum as they sipped the wine.

Meanwhile, Vicky sat at the hospital beside her mother's bed, her posture more relaxed than earlier, her eyes tender.

"Mom... I did it," she whispered, holding her mother's limp hand. "I got a job at Carlos Resort and Events. My boss—he's actually nice. And today... today, I organized my first board meeting. Just like you taught me."

She leaned in, her voice thick with unshed emotion.

"It's all because of your prayers. Your blessings. I also met someone—Kuku. She's warm, vibrant. She wants me to organize her son's engagement."

A pause.

"I've never done that before. An engagement... I mean, I know it's a promise of marriage, but... how do you make it feel like love? What kind of food? What colors carry passion? I can come up with dishes, sure. But how do I fill a place with that same warmth you always made our home feel like?"

She laughed softly, bitter-sweet. "I miss us. Just two best friends with kids against the world. Will you let me go, Mom? Or are you going to let Auntie win and mock us again?"

Suddenly, her mother's breath hitched. The rhythm faltered.

"Mom...? Mom!" Vicky panicked, eyes darting to the machines—but the monitors read normal.

Still, her heart raced as she gripped her mother's fingers tighter and began humming an old hymn, her voice trembling but steadying with every word.

"I know... it must be scary in there," she whispered. "Wandering alone in the woods. Lost. Confused. But I'm right here, Mom. You're not lost—you're in my arms. This is where peace lives. You're not confused—you're just new to that place. So be calm, take a deep breath... think of your best memories. I've got you. And God? He's handling the rest."

And as her song faded into silence, her mother's breathing evened out. Peace returned—fragile, but real.

Vicky didn't move. She just sat there, still and sacred, holding her mother's hand like it was the only anchor left in the world.