THE INTERVIEW
1092 Words
Chapter 4
Tara stood across the street staring up at the glass steel building.
Height that seemed to touch the sky, the kind of place she only sees from a distance she had never imagined stepping into, her fingers tightened around the strap of her bag.
Her heart pounding loudly, each beat echoing with the same thought. Don't mess this up, she said to herself.
She glanced down at herself for the hundredth time. She was putting on a simple blouse and a neatly pressed skirt, her shoes looked worn out but clean. It was the best she could do.
And somehow, standing in front of the building, it didn’t feel like enough. Tara swallowed hard and stepped inside, not turning back. Her footsteps echoed faintly against the marble floor as she approached the reception desk.
The woman behind it looked up, her expression professional and unreadable.
“Good morning.
How can I help you?”
“I’m here for an interview,” Tara said, forcing her voice to stay steady.
“Name?”
“Tara,” the woman typed quickly, then nodded. “Take the elevator to the 12th floor waiting room B.”
“Thank you.”
Tara turned, her nerves were spiraling. The elevator ride felt suffocating.
Mirrored walls reflected her from every angle, forcing her to see everything she was trying not to think about.
Her tired eyes, the tension in her shoulders, the fear she couldn’t hide from herself.
You don’t belong here, the thought came uninvited, loud and sharp. Tara clenched her fists slightly.
I have to be here, the elevator dinged. The door opened and she stepped out.
There were at least ten other candidates seated there, all looking perfect sharp suits, expensive watches and polished smiles. They didn’t look nervous, they looked ready like they belonged.
Unlike her.
Tara hesitated near the entrance. For a brief moment she considered turning around to leave, pretending she never came.
But then Ken’s face flashed in her mind her mother, the eviction notice seven days ago. Her jaw tightened, she walked with all eyes on her. Some were curious, some dismissive. A lady glanced at Tara’s outfit, then quickly looked away, her lip curling slightly. Tara ignored it.
She found an empty seat and sat down, placing her hands on her lap quietly and observing.
Her heart continued racing, but she forced her breathing to slow. You can do this. A door opened.
“Next,” a man stepped out.
Confident and relaxed like he had already secured the job.
Tara watched him go, her stomach twisted, minutes passed.
Then
“Tara."
That was it. She walked toward the door, each step deliberate and steady even if she didn’t feel it.
The interview room was larger than she expected. Three people sat behind a sleek table, a woman and two men.
Their expressions are neutral, professional and judging. “Have a seat,” one of them said.
Tara nodded and sat down.
Her hands rested on her lap, her fingers tightly intertwined. “Tell us about yourself,” the woman began.
Simple question.
But Tara’s mind went blank for a split second. Then she exhaled softly.
“My name is Tara. I’ve spent the last few years working in administrative support roles. I’ve handled scheduling, documentation, and coordination under pressure. I learn quickly, and I’m committed to doing my work thoroughly.”
Her voice wasn’t perfect, but it was steady and honest.
The panel exchanged brief glances.
One of the men leaned forward slightly. “Why did you leave your last job?”
Her chest tightened.
The truth sat heavily on her tongue.“I was dismissed,” she said.
A pause.
“Why?” Tara swallowed.
“Because of an error in a report,” she replied. “But I believe the situation was misunderstood.”
She didn’t elaborate.
Didn’t beg.
Didn’t defend aggressively.
Just the truth, the room went quiet for a moment.
Then “How do you handle pressure?” the second man asked.
Tara almost let out a small laugh.
If only they had known, “I don’t have the option to break under pressure,” she said.
That caught their attention.
She continued.
“When things get difficult, I focus on what needs to be done. I prioritize. I adjust. And I keep going.”
The woman tilted her head slightly. “That sounds intense.”
“It is,” Tara admitted. “But it’s necessary.”
Silence again, this time heavier and different.
Another question followed.
“What makes you think you’re suitable for this position?”
Tara hesitated.
Not because she didn’t have an answer but because she had too many responsibilities, survival and needs.
But instead, she said:
“Because I won’t give up on it.”
The words hung in the air.
“I understand that there are people more qualified than me,” she added. “But I also know that I will work harder than anyone else in this room to keep this job.”
Not arrogance or pride.
Just the truth.
The panels exchanged another look.
A file was placed in front of her.
“A quick task,” the woman said. “Organize this schedule.”
Tara nodded.
Her fingers moved quickly, scanning the information.
At first, it felt overwhelming.
Too many details, too many conflicts, but then she focused, one step at a time. She reorganized, Adjusted and Simplified.
Her breathing steadied.
Minutes passed. Finally, she pushed the paper back and the panel reviewed it.
One of them raised an eyebrow.
“Interesting.” Tara’s heart skipped.
“Thank you,” she said softly “That will be all,” the woman said. Tara blinked.
That was it?
She stood slowly.
“Thank you for your time.” No promises or reassurance, just uncertainty.
She turned and walked toward the door. Her heart was heavy again.
Did I do enough? Her hand reached the handle. She stepped out the door closed behind her.
Inside the room, silence lingered.
Then a voice spoke low, calm and commanding.
“Find out everything about her.” The panel stiffened slightly.
From the far end of the room, partially hidden behind a glass partition, a man stepped forward tall, imposing, his eyes sharp and unreadable.
Jaden.
His gaze remained fixed on the door Tara had just walked through.
Something dark flickered in his expression, something intense and dangerous.
“She’s the one,” he murmured quietly.
And just like that, the past had begun to close in.
- Writer
