CHAPTER THREE
685 Words
By the time I stepped out of Mrs. Hailey’s office, the entire building had slipped into that calm, end-of-day hush where everything feels softer, quieter, almost unreal. Elevators dinged nonstop as staff hurried out with their bags, heels clicking on the marble floor like they were rushing toward freedom.
It hit me then—
I had actually made it through a real interview.
And I was officially hired.
Me.
Ella Hart.
The girl they always underestimated. The girl who grew up being told she wasn’t enough, who had to talk herself out of crying in the bathroom mirror more times than she could count.
I gripped my handbag a little tighter, my throat burning with excitement I wasn’t sure how to contain.
I reached for my phone to call Jenny, but stopped halfway. She was probably in the middle of her shift already—tonight was Ladies’ Night at the club, and she hated being late. So I sent a text instead.
“Guess who got the job? Call me when you can, madam nightlife.”
I added a ridiculous number of emojis—stars, fire, hearts—then hit send before I embarrassed myself further.
Outside, the sky was dissolving into soft gold, that warm hour between evening and night where everything looks like it’s been dipped in honey. I didn’t feel like going home yet. The thought alone made my chest tighten.
So instead of heading toward the bus stop, I just… wandered.
Tall corporate buildings towered above me like silent giants. Fancy restaurants glowed with warm lights and soft music. Boutique windows flashed outfits I could only dream of wearing—dresses that cost more than three months of my salary, shoes so elegant they made my heart ache.
People walked with confidence, dressed like the world belonged to them.
For the first time, I wondered if that could ever be me.
Eventually, I found myself at a small nearby park—quiet, calm, dotted with benches and trees that rustled like they had secrets to whisper. I sat down, closed my eyes, and let the cool breeze wash over me.
That’s when my mind slipped where it always went when I finally slowed down.
To my mum.
Would she be proud of me?
Would she smile and hug me and tell me she always knew I’d make it?
I imagined her—warm eyes, gentle hands, the soft laugh she used to hide behind when she didn’t want to cry. I imagined her wiping my cheeks like she did when I was little and scraped my knee.
Then my dad’s face drifted in—not the man he is now, wrapped in sadness and silence—but the man he used to be. Loud. Joyful. Loving. He used to call me “my little star,” lifting me high above his head like I could reach the sky.
Would he be proud of me too?
Or would he just smile weakly and sink back into that heavy quietness that has swallowed him whole?
I didn’t know. And I wasn’t sure I wanted to find out yet.
So I shook the thoughts away and forced myself back into the present.
Today wasn’t for sadness.
A tiny laugh escaped me—unexpected, almost shy.
Oh, my stepmother would choke on this news.
And Pearl?
Please. She might actually pass out right into her perfect, over-lined lips.
The image hit me so hard I actually burst into laughter—loud, real laughter. People in the park glanced at me like I’d lost my mind, but for once, I didn’t care. I felt something I hadn’t felt in months.
Joy.
Happiness.
Hope.
It felt good.
I stood up, finally ready to go home,
“Ella Hart,” I said dramatically, “you’re entering your soft life era.”
Maybe I was.
Maybe this really was the start of something different.
As I stood up and began walking toward the bus stop, one final thought settled quietly in my heart:
Today was a good day.
A very good day.
Maybe even the beginning of better on
- Writer
