Destiny's Edge

Hard Times

At 5:30 the next morning, Grace woke up as part of her usual routine.

Limited by the conditions of the motel, she couldn’t exercise the way she normally would, so she settled for a simple stretching routine to prepare herself for the day’s interview.

A basic breakfast of a sandwich and milk was quickly finished, and then Grace headed out with her child on her back, ready to face the interview.

A five-year-old child couldn’t take care of herself—and that was yet another challenge Grace faced in her job hunt:

she had to bring her daughter with her to work.

The heavy rain from the day before had left the sky overcast and dull.

To conserve energy, most streetlights and other public lighting had been turned off,

leaving the streets shrouded in darkness.

The city was eerily silent.

Minutes passed without a single car crossing the street.

Only Grace could be seen—walking alone in the shadows,her child on her back,her silhouette cutting through the quiet gloom.

The bleak streets brought back unsettling memories of news stories Grace had read not long ago.

Several families had mysteriously vanished in recent weeks—

the only traces left behind were the bloodstains found in their homes,

a chilling clue that these were no ordinary disappearances.

The thought sent a shiver down Grace’s spine.

She instinctively tightened her hold on her daughter and quickened her pace,

the weight of fear pressing against her chest.

Fortunately, none of her worst fears came true.

At six o'clock sharp, Grace managed to catch the first bus of the morning.

She exhaled quietly, a fragile moment of relief in a world that had given her so little of it.

The only unfortunate part was having to pay another $2 for the bus fare.

Grace touched her nearly empty wallet—its thinning bulk reminded her of a piece of gum that had been chewed over and over,and now, life had twisted it one more time for good measure.

To her surprise, the bus was already packed.

Every seat was taken, and even the standing room was scarce.

It took Grace considerable effort just to squeeze her way onto the bus,

clutching her child tightly, doing her best to keep her balance amid the jostling crowd.

She glanced around at the crowd on the bus. From appearances alone, they spanned all ages—fresh-faced college graduates, weathered middle-aged professionals with years of experience etched into their features.

Yet at this moment, they all had one thing in common:

each clutched a clear plastic folder, anxiety written across their faces. Inside the folders were their résumés—symbols of hope, desperation, and the fierce competition that awaited them.

Amid the noisy rumble of the engine, Grace kept catching fragments of conversation—each voice a thread in the shared tapestry of desperation.

“Mom, believe me, my GPA is 3.7. I’m sure I’ll get into this company this time,” said a fresh graduate, his voice trembling slightly.

His disheveled hair and bloodshot eyes betrayed the truth: the job hunt had been anything but smooth.

“Don’t worry,” came another voice—a middle-aged man with glasses, forcing a smile as he spoke into his phone. “They’re only hiring five people, but with my fifteen years of experience, I’m sure I can land this position.”

Grace held her child a little tighter. In this city, hope wasn’t a luxury. It was a necessity—raw, fragile, and hard-earned.

Suddenly—

A young man sitting beside the student shouted, his voice sharp with panic.

“Damn it, Mike! I just checked online— that tech company cut down their hiring. They're only taking one person now! And there are already 187 applicants!”

The entire bus fell silent.

Within moments, the color drained from most passengers’ faces. Some even trembled slightly, their bodies reacting before their minds could.

In this suffocating economy, it didn’t matter how brilliant your résumé was. Whether you were a top university graduate or a seasoned professional with years of experience—it all boiled down to this: fighting for a single, barely decent job, just enough to keep food on the table and the lights on.

Grace lowered her gaze, holding her daughter even closer. This city wasn’t just cold—it was cruel.

"Medical bills? Where the hell would I get money for that? Let it all burn! Let everything be destroyed!"

A young woman broke down, clutching her head and sobbing uncontrollably.

Her cries shattered the fragile silence that had fallen over the bus.

But the other passengers barely flinched.

It was just another soul on the verge of collapse. Just one more family about to fall apart.

In this country—at this moment in history—survival itself was a luxury.

An hour later, Grace finally arrived at her destination: a modest little restaurant tucked on the corner of an aging street.

The sign above read:

"Tom's Diner."

Though the diner hadn’t officially opened yet, a tall, broad-shouldered man with short-cropped black hair was already moving efficiently through the space, prepping for the day ahead.

“Excuse me, sorry to bother you,” Grace said, stepping inside. “I’m Grace—we spoke on the phone yesterday about the interview.”

“Oh—right! Yes, of course. Hi, I’m Tom,” the man replied, turning to face her.

Only then did Grace get a good look at him.

Handsome features, a powerful build, and a calm, grounded energy. He stood even taller than Richard, with a quiet strength that filled the room.

He was, undeniably, a man who left an impression.

But for Grace, something twisted uncomfortably in her stomach. The man's similar build and presence stirred an unwelcome memory—Richard. That same kind of tall, imposing figure. Even if Tom’s expression was kind and his tone warm, Grace couldn’t help the faint nausea rising within her.

“I used to enjoy cooking quite a bit,” Grace said, steadying her voice. “I’ve got a little experience working in restaurants.”

“Excuse me,” another voice cut in politely.

It was a familiar one.

Grace turned to see the young woman from the bus—the one who had broken down in tears—now standing at the door. She looked a little more composed, but her eyes were still red-rimmed.

“My name is Elsa. I’m here for the job interview too. According to the call I received, you’re hiring two positions—a waitress and a dishwasher, correct?”

“Okay, you both arrived earlier than I expected… Since that’s the case, let’s get started with the interview.”

Tom suddenly looked a bit uncomfortable. His nose twitched repeatedly, as if he had caught a bad smell or was allergic to something.

“Are you alright? You seem a little unwell,” Grace asked.

“I’m fine, it won’t affect the interview,” Tom replied, acting strangely. He quickly took a few steps back, as if trying to put distance between himself and Grace, even deliberately avoiding her gaze.