Behind the Contract

Life Didn’t Pause

Gabriella

I woke up to pain.

Then a sharp, clean antiseptic smell hit my nose.

I opened my eyes slowly. The ceiling above me was blinding white. For a moment, I thought I’d crossed over. Then I heard the sound of a machine by my side steadily beeping.

I turned my head.

Shelby was sitting on a chair beside me. Her eyes swollen and red. Her hands clenched like she had been praying.

"Shelby?" My voice came out weak and soft.

She looked up right away. "Ella. Thank God!" She stood and immediately grabbed my hand. "You scared me."

"What... happened?"

"You collapsed. The doctor said it was shock."

The word just hung there. Shock.

“My dad…” I swallowed hard.

Shelby’s silence answered me.

My body felt heavy, my fingers numb. My chest tightened each time i took a breath.

“Dad was on his way,” I said, my voice thin.

She gripped my hand, gentle yet strong. “I know."

That was when it hit me it was real. No warning. No goodbye. Just gone.

I turned my face into the pillow and cried. Quiet, broken tears.

The next few days slid past like I was watching from behind glass.

People came. Talked. Cried.

The funeral happened quickly.

Suddenly, the church was filled—St. Francis, heavy with incense and old wood. I watched the coffin go, hands cramping in my lap. My legs refused to move. My mouth stayed closed.

That was my dad. The one who called me songbird. Never missed work.

Gone.

Life didn't pause. I had to move with it whether I was ready or not.

The office gave me a week to grieve.

"Take some time," they said. "Get yourself together." As if pain knew when to stop.

—-

When I returned a week later, nothing had changed. Same desk. Same smell of disinfectant. Same chair that hurt my back. Only I was different.

People were gentle at first. Soft voices. Awkward sympathy. A few envelopes here and there.

Then time passed, and the kindness faded. Bills didn’t.

I sold my father’s wristwatch. Then his shoes. Then the radio he loved. One piece at a time, like I was erasing him to survive.

Still, it wasn’t enough.

—-

One afternoon, the office door slammed open.

Three men walked in. Wrinkled suits. Heavy steps, and the kind of confidence that didn’t ask for permission.

“Gabriella Raymond?” the tallest one shouted, his tone sharp enough to cut.

“Yes… can I help you?” I looked up slowly.

He smirked. “Help yourself, maybe. Your father owed us a lot of money. We’re done waiting.”

I stood unsteadily, gripping the desk as if it could keep me upright. “Sir, please,” I whispered, glancing around. “Please, can we go outside? I’m working on it… I’ll pay every—”

He cut me off with a sharp laugh. “You? Pay? You can barely afford lunch.”

I felt the sting immediately.

“You’ve been avoiding us for weeks. We’ll stay right here till you pay,” another in a red cap said.

Before I could think of anything to say, the shorter one stomped his foot on the floor.

“We’ve taken this outside long enough. We’re aware you’ve been avoiding us. Now we’re done waiting. We’ll be here till you pay your debt,” he said.

Heat rushed to my cheeks. All eyes were on me. My coworkers couldn’t look away , and neither could the customers.

“Sir, please,” I whispered, glancing around. “Customers are watching.”

“Then maybe they’ll finally see who you really are,” the short one shouted.

“I just need more time. I’ll pay everything, I promise—”

The man in red slammed a brown folder onto my desk. “Promises don’t pay bills. We’re done waiting.” The papers scattered. A few fell to the floor.

My hands trembled as I tried to gather them, but he kicked one aside deliberately.

“Please,” I begged again. “Let’s talk outside. I’m at work. You’re making a scene.”

The tall one sneered. “You think we care? You made a promise. Now we collect.”

My boss’s door swung open. Mr. Davis stepped out, irritation written all over his face.

“What’s this?”

“Debt!” the tall man said smoothly. “Family business.”

Mr. Davis crossed his arms. “This is a professional office, not a street corner. Take this matter outside immediately.”

“We’re not leaving without our money,” the short one said.

“I’ll have to get security involved,” Mr. Davis warned .

“Fine then,” the tall man said, raising his hands slightly. “We’re not breaking any rules. We just want our money.”

“Please,” I said again. “Just give me a little more time. I’ll figure something out.”

The tall man let out a short laugh. “Time? You’ve had plenty of that.”

“Get out,” Mr. Davis said sharply. “Now.”

The short man stepped closer. “Without our pay, we won’t move an inch, except you want this to get dirty.”

And then —

A voice broke the tension. Deep and firm.

“Enough.”