Desperate Hearts

I stared blankly at the email on my laptop screen. We regret to inform you. Regret, my ass. They didn’t even look me in the eyes. After three years of giving everything staying late, taking weekend calls, missing birthdays—I was tossed out like expired leftovers considering the efforts I had put in , I just didn’t think it was fair that I was cut off this way. Budget cuts, they said. Yet somehow the boss’s clueless nephew still had a job. I shut the laptop with more force than necessary, slumped onto the couch, and sighed. My phone buzzed. Group chat. Zara, we’re going out tonight. You need it. No excuses.” Then another: “You’ve been working like a machine. Time to breathe. Then a third: “We’re picking you up. Get dressed. We’re wearing black.” I groaned but smiled a little. They were right. I had been a workaholic hermit. And now? Unemployed. My resume could wait until tomorrow. I pulled myself off the couch and looked in the mirror. Puffy eyes. Slouched shoulders. Yeah, I definitely needed this night out. An hour later, I was in a black bodycon dress I hadn’t touched in months, hair curled, lips glossed, trying to remind myself that I was still human. The music hit me first when we walked into the club like stepping into another world. A world where I wasn’t Zara the recently fired employee, but Zara the free woman. We danced, laughed, toasted to new beginnings. I felt good until I turned too quickly, bumped into someone, and felt my wine splash... all over a man’s shirt. Crap. My eyes snapped up to his face. Sharp jawline, dark eyes, expression cold as ice. I froze. The wine glass in my hand trembled slightly, the stem slick in my grip. My heart dropped to my stomach as I looked up at the man I’d just baptized in red wine. He looked expensive and furious. His shirt clung to his chest, soaked, and he stared down at it like I’d just committed a personal crime. His eyes finally lifted to meet mine—dark, intense, and annoyingly attractive even in anger. I’m so sorry,l I stammered. I didn’t mean to, and before I could finish He raised a hand. Not in forgiveness more like in dismissal. Clearly he said coolly, voice deep, clipped, and British tinged. Next time, try watching where you’re going,w***e, Ouch. My brows shot up in shock. Excuse me? He arched an eyebrow. Do you make it a habit to clumsily ruin expensive suits, or am I just special? I blinked, stunned, then narrowed my eyes. Wow. You really know how to make a girl feel welcomed. He gave a humorless smile ending it with I wasn’t trying to. Before I could come up with a snappy comeback, He waved me off and walked out. What an interesting way for my night to be after loosing my job in the day, didn’t get why the man was so rude , He looked like he could afford more whites. The club pulsed with music, lights flickering like my thoughts erratic, loud, and impossible to escape. I followed Zara through the VIP section, feeling like the universe was against me. One way or the other I was able to put the whole event that had happened behind me cause there was no way I was going to let me self suck over an annoyingly handsome man who probably makes it a hobby to yell at innocent girls . I couldn’t even recall how I got home from the club. I just found myself in my living room with a splitting headache. As I was about to get up, a notification on my laptop caught my eye it was an interview invitation, and I was expected to be there by 10 a.m. Crap!I exclaimed, dragging myself off the couch. I glanced around the room in disgust the place was a mess, but that was the least of my worries. I quickly checked the time and realized I had less than an hour to get ready. There was no time to waste. I rushed into the shower, then settled on a corporate gown and a pair of low heels. I pulled my hair into a bun, gave myself a quick once-over in the mirror, and felt satisfied with how I looked. I grabbed my bag, shoved in a notepad and pen and dashed out the door. The sun was already up, casting a warm glow on the streets, but all I could feel was the pounding in my head and the race against time. The ride to the interview location felt like the longest 20 minutes of my life. My nerves were a mess, my stomach empty, and my head still aching. I kept rehearsing my answers in my mind, silently begging the traffic lights to cooperate. Finally, I arrived. I took a deep breath, adjusted my dress, and walked into the building, hoping my headache wouldn't betray me. As I stepped into the reception area, I noticed a few other candidates, all looking just as tense as I felt. The receptionist gave me a polite smile. You’re here for the interview? Yes, I replied, trying to sound calm. Please have a seat. You’ll be called shortly. I nodded and sat, palms slightly sweaty, reminding myself that this could be the start of something new. The interview went well and apparently and I found myself sitting outside waiting for the outcome,to be honest I didn’t think I stood a chance but at least I was allowed to hope I actually do get the role.