The After Hours Project

"Oh my god, girrrrrl, I have the best news for you!" Victoria Grey, my roommate turned sister from another mother of three years, practically squealed, her face lit up with pure excitement. "What news?" I asked her with curiosity, looking up from my phone. " So, Michael hit me up and said there’s a job vacancy at his friend's place. This is huge!" Victoria—or Vic, as I called her—was more than just a roommate. We’d met at a mutual friend's birthday three years ago and hit it off immediately. She was a total powerhouse: Marketing Director at a top-tier cosmetics firm with a salary that made my head spin. But you’d never know she came from serious money. Despite the designer bags and the fact that her dad literally bought her this condo as a birthday gift, she was the most down-to-earth person I knew. She was a literal angel who’d been carrying me through my quarter-life crisis, especially since she knew how much I loathed my soul-crushing accounting job at that manufacturing plant. ​She’d finally let me split the bills with her after months of me begging—I wasn't about to be a leech, no matter how much she insisted it was 'no big deal." "What’s the job description even look like?" I asked, feeling a sudden spark of interest. I was dying to quit my current gig—I couldn't stand the way they treated me, and I’ve always hated the idea of feeling like a charity case, even with someone as sweet as Vic. ​"It’s for an Executive Assistant to a CEO," she said, a mischievous glint in her eyes. ​"Wait, what? A CEO?" I practically yelped, tossing my phone onto the nightstand and sitting up on my bed to give her my full attention. ​"Yep," she popped the 'p,' looking way too proud of herself. "I sent Michael your resume last week and told him you were back on the job market since your current place isn't working out. He just replied." She said excitedly. "Oh my gosh! I literally can’t—wait, hold up!" I held my hands up in the air. "I'm gonna have to go in for an interview, aren't I? No, no, no. I am totally not qualified for this." "What do you mean you don't think you're qualified?" Vicky asked, looking at me like I’d lost my mind. "Are you kidding? You’re literally perfect for this." "Look, to be an assistant to an actual CEO, you have to look a certain way. I mean, you basically have to be drop-dead gorgeous, don't you think?" She looked at me like I was mad. ​"Do you even see yourself?" Vicky asked, sounding genuinely annoyed that I was doubting myself. ​"I don't know, I just don't feel like I fit the vibe," I replied, looking totally defeated. "Whoa, whoa—wait! What are you doing?" ​"I’m dragging your butt to the mirror, girl! You haven't seen yourself lately." Victoria practically hauled me into the hallway and planted me in front of the full-length mirror. She stood behind me, resting her chin on my shoulder, our reflections side-by-side. Vic looked like her usual polished self, but my eyes went straight to my own reflection, and I hated how much I wanted to look away. ​I saw a girl with a wild mess of dark, tight curls that felt more like a shield than a crown. My eyes—those light, amber-brown eyes that people used to compliment all the time—just looked tired to me now. I traced the line of my jaw and the shape of my lips, but all I could think about was how he’d looked at me that last night. Like I was something he was done with. ​"Look at yourself, for real," Vic insisted, nudging my shoulder. "You are breathtaking. Those curls? That face? You’re a literal goddess, and you’re sitting here acting like you’re invisible." ​"I don't see it, Vic," I whispered, my voice sounding small even to my own ears. I reached up and toyed with a stray curl, feeling like a fraud. "I just see someone who wasn't enough. I look at this face and all I see is the girl who got dumped two months ago. I don't look like an Executive Assistant to a CEO. I look like a mess." ​"You look like a power player who just hasn't realized it yet," Vic countered fiercely. "We are going to get you into a blazer, tame these curls just a little bit, and you are going to walk into that interview and own the room." ​"Look," Vic said, her voice dropping that playful tone and getting dead serious. "What that animal did to you was pure evil—period. But you need to start walking with your head held high again. You’re brilliant, you’re sharp, and you’re gorgeous. I mean, hello? That’s exactly why we clicked the second we met." ​She grabbed my hands, forcing me to look away from the mirror and at her. "I need you to find your way back to your real self, okay? Not this sulking version of Bella I’ve been seeing lately. I want my smart-ass, no-nonsense-taking best friend back. The one who knows she’s a powerhouse." Vicky’s words hit me like a physical weight. I tried to hold it together, tried to give her one of those fake, "I’m fine" smiles, but my chin started to tremble. Before I could even open my mouth to argue, the first hot tear escaped, trailing down my cheek and landing on the collar of my hoodie. ​"Oh, sweetie," Vic whispered, her fierce expression instantly melting into pure empathy. ​I didn't just cry—I crumbled. All that effort I’d spent for the last two months trying to be "okay" and "professional" just evaporated. I leaned into her, burying my face against her shoulder as the heavy, jagged sobs finally took over. ​"I just... I feel so stupid," I choked out between breaths, my voice muffled by her shirt. "I know I should be over it. I know I’m smart. But every time I look in that mirror, I just feel like I'm not enough." ​Vic didn't say a word; she just held me tighter, rubbing circles on my back and letting me get it all out. She knew this wasn't just about a job or a mirror anymore. This was about finally letting go of the version of myself that he’d tried to break.