Meant To Miss, Destined To Meet

Chapter 11

Gina’s POV

My hands were still a little shaky when the receptionist called my name.

“Ms. Foster? They’re ready for you.”

I stood, smoothed down my blazer, and followed her through a sleek glass corridor that smelled faintly of eucalyptus and something more expensive—probably ambition.

I should’ve been focused. I should’ve had bullet points rehearsed in my head, confident answers locked and loaded. But instead, my thoughts were looping around one thing:

I ran into Jack. Again.

And somehow… he was kind. Steady. The same calm voice, same warm eyes, no trace of bitterness in his tone. No mention of the unread message.

He didn’t guilt me. He didn’t ask why.

He just said: You’re gonna kill this interview.

Like he believed in me.

And for some reason, that belief was louder in my mind than my fear.

The interview room was brighter than I expected—two windows, modern chairs, and three people seated behind a wide table. Two women, one man. All sharp, poised, and smiling.

Not in the fake way.

In the let’s-see-what-you’ve-got kind of way.

I took a seat.

“Gina Foster, thank you for coming in,” said the woman in the middle—Rebecca, the lead marketing manager. “We’ve gone through your resume, and we have to say… your experience is a little unconventional.”

Code for: Why did you leave your last job and what the hell happened?

I nodded. “Yes, I’ve had to adapt quickly in my previous roles. I think that’s made me sharper and more solution-focused.”

She raised a brow. “Care to elaborate?”

I could’ve lied. Smoothed over the mess. But I didn’t want to start something new with anything but truth.

“I was let go from my last job due to downsizing. And to be honest, it shook me up more than I expected. But I used the time to build some skills, take a few online strategy courses, and really refine what kind of work environment I want to grow in.”

The man beside her jotted something down. The other woman—Claire, I think—smiled.

Rebecca leaned forward. “That’s refreshing to hear. A lot of people pretend like their career gaps don’t exist. You’re owning it.”

“Well… I’ve been through enough lately to know that pretending never really works.”

The room went quiet for a beat.

Then: a nod.

Then: questions.

Real ones. About campaign design, brand voice, crisis PR, and how I’d handle a project with a short deadline and conflicting feedback.

I answered every one—not perfectly, but honestly.

And somewhere in the middle of it all, I forgot I was terrified.

I remembered that I was good.

Really good.

The interview wrapped with handshakes and genuine thank-yous.

“We’ll be in touch very soon,” Rebecca said.

She meant it. I could feel it.

I walked out of the room with my back straight and my chin a little higher than when I came in.

Kira would be proud. Hell, I was proud.

I stepped into the elevator and hit the button for the ground floor, trying not to grin like an i***t.

As the doors began to close, I heard someone call my name.

“Gina—wait!”

I caught the doors with my hand, and they slid back open to reveal…

Rebecca.

“Sorry—” she said, catching her breath. “We don’t usually do this, but I just got word from upper management.”

My stomach clenched. “Okay?”

“You got the job.”

I blinked. “Wait… what?”

“You start next Monday—if you’re still interested.”

I laughed, stunned. “Yes! I mean—absolutely, yes.”

Rebecca smiled and handed me a printed welcome packet. “We’ll send you the full offer by email. But we wanted to move fast on this. We think you’re the right fit.”

The doors finally closed, and I leaned against the elevator wall, packet pressed to my chest like it was oxygen.

I got the job.

I actually got the job.

As I stepped out onto the sidewalk, the city air hit me like a rush of everything I hadn’t let myself feel in weeks.

Relief.

Joy.

Momentum.

And maybe just a whisper of something else—something that looked a lot like possibility.

Because somehow, after all the mess…

I was starting over.

And maybe—just maybe—I wasn’t alone in it anymore.