A Better Chance

-Layla Saidi:

I finished scrubbing the last sink until the porcelain gleamed, wiped my gloves against each other, and peeled them off slowly, careful not to flick water onto my clothes. My arms were sore, but I was used to it by now — this dull, bone-deep ache that settled into my muscles like a second skin. I washed my hands twice, maybe three times. The citrusy scent of the soap clung to my fingers as I dried them and turned toward where I had left Amira.

She was sitting just outside the bathroom door on the little pink blanket I always folded up and tucked into my backpack. Her legs were crossed, tiny shoes kicked off, her curls bouncing as she hummed to herself and lined up her toy animals. Her lunchbox sat beside her, still unopened.

I crouched down beside her. "Hey, baby," I said, kissing the soft roundness of her cheek. She giggled, leaned into me, her arms wrapping around my neck. Her hug was warm, her little body smelling like strawberries and sugar from the hand cream she smeared on when she pretended to be a "grown-up."

"Mommy, I made all the animals go to school," she said proudly, pointing to the lion and the bear and the panda lined up like little students. "And the panda is the teacher, 'cause he's the fluffiest."

I smiled, brushing a curl off her forehead. "Very smart. The fluffiest ones always know the most."

She grinned. "Can I eat now?"

"Of course." I helped her open her lunchbox, revealing the little compartments I had filled this morning before dawn — triangle-cut peanut butter sandwiches, a handful of blueberries, a hard-boiled egg with a heart drawn on the shell, and her favorite: star-shaped cucumber slices. I'd skipped breakfast again, but that was okay. Amira ate enough for both of us.

I sat beside her as she munched away happily, legs swinging. I didn't even notice my own hunger at first, not until the smell of peanut butter hit me and my stomach clenched. But I stayed still, just watching her. Her cheeks puffed out as she chewed, and every time she finished a bite, she'd look up at me like she wanted approval for it.

"You're eating so well," I whispered, smiling wide. "You're going to grow up and be even taller than Mommy."

"Really?" she asked, mouth full.

I nodded. "Mmhmm. Taller, stronger, and ten times smarter."

She leaned forward, giving me a sticky kiss on the chin. "I love you, Mama."

I closed my eyes for a second, just breathing her in. "I love you more."

When she was done, I took her to the sink inside the restroom and helped her wash her hands. She liked to sing the alphabet while scrubbing, so I sang with her quietly, holding her tiny wrists as she rubbed her fingers together with soap. After drying them with paper towels she crumpled into a ball for me to toss in the bin, she slid her little backpack on.

We stepped out of the back corridor, passing by the kitchen where the cooks were already shouting over the sound of sizzling pans and clattering plates. I adjusted Amira's bag on her shoulders, then held her hand tightly as we made our way toward the side exit. It was getting darker outside — the sun low and golden, casting long shadows across the polished floors.

That's when I saw him.

Dean.

He had just walked into the restaurant, still in his usual crisp button-up and blazer, but with the sleeves rolled up, like always. His dark hair was slightly windswept, and the moment he saw us, he smiled — a real, warm, no-reason-needed smile.

"Layla," he greeted.

I dipped my head slightly. "Hello, sir."

He chuckled, slow and easy. "Come on now. How many times do I have to tell you? It's just Dean."

I hesitated, then smiled shyly. "Sorry. Dean."

He stepped closer, his eyes glancing down at Amira, who peeked up at him from behind my legs. He waved at her, and she gave a little wave back with the same hand that clutched her stuffed giraffe.

"I was hoping I'd catch you," Dean said, slipping one hand into his pocket. "Do you have a moment?"

I nodded, though my heart picked up a beat. Was something wrong?

"I wanted to talk to you about something," he continued. "There's… actually an opportunity I wanted to run by you. It's a job. A better one."

I blinked, unsure if I'd heard him right. "A better job?"

He nodded. "One that pays more. Less physical work. Something I think you'd be great at."

Panic bloomed in my chest.

"I—did I do something wrong here?" I asked, voice small. "Did someone complain about me?"

Dean's expression softened immediately. "No, no. Not at all. You've been nothing but amazing here. Everyone knows it. I'd never let anyone push you out."

I felt my shoulders relax slightly, though the fear still curled at the edges of my stomach.

"Then why?" I asked quietly.

"Because I see how hard you work," he said. "You and Amira — you're trying to build something better. And you deserve a shot at something that doesn't leave your hands raw every night."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a clean business card. The edges were sharp, the logo embossed in silver.

"Go here," he said. "Ask for Camille Hart. She's my sister. She owns a media company and she's looking for a new assistant. I already spoke to her about you. Told her how dedicated and responsible you are. She's expecting you."

I stared down at the card in my hand. Camille Hart. The name looked foreign to me. Powerful.

"I don't know anything about media," I admitted.

Dean smiled. "You know how to work. You're smart. You show up. That's more than most people. She'll see that."

I swallowed hard, heart fluttering in my chest. "It's… it's not because you feel bad for me, right?"

He shook his head. "It's because I believe in you."

I blinked quickly, trying not to cry right in front of him. Amira looked up at me, tugging on my hand.

"Are we going there now?" she asked, eyes curious.

I let out a laugh, shaky and warm. "Not yet, baby."

Dean crouched to Amira's level. "You'll like it. Big offices, elevators, and maybe even a snack drawer."

Amira gasped, clearly sold.

I held the card tightly. "Thank you. Really. I don't even know what to say."

"Just go," Dean said gently. "See what happens."

And for the first time in years, I let myself hope. Maybe, just maybe, something was finally turning in our favor.