Chapter 2
1350 Words
RINGGGG!
Clarissa jolted awake, heart hammering against her ribs. The phone on her nightstand shrieked, displaying an unknown number.
She almost ignored it. Too many debt collectors had been calling lately. But something—an inexplicable pull—made her reach for it. "Hello?"
"Good morning, is this Clarissa Maharani?"
"Good morning. Yes, this is she."
"I'm Melissa from HR at TechNova Corp. We've reviewed your résumé and would like to invite you for an interview. Would you be available tomorrow morning at ten?"
Clarissa nearly tumbled off the bed. She had to hold her breath, pinch her arm, make sure this wasn't another dream that would shatter at dawn. "Of course! Yes, absolutely!"
"Perfect. I'll email you the address and requirements. See you tomorrow, Miss Clarissa."
After the line went dead, Clarissa sat frozen. Then, like a dam bursting, tears of joy streamed down her face—tears for hope that had seemed impossible finally within reach.
"MOM! Mom! Mom!" Clarissa burst from her room, calling for her mother.
"WHAT?!" Her mother startled.
"TechNova Corp called! They want to interview me!" Clarissa bounced on her feet, shouting.
Her mother immediately wrapped her in tears. "Really?"
"Really, Mom! Tomorrow morning!" Clarissa squeezed her mother tight, both of them crying with happiness in each other's arms.
But euphoria quickly morphed into panic. Clarissa pulled back, staring at her mother. "Mom! But I... I don't have anything appropriate to wear!"
Her mother wiped away tears and smiled genuinely. "Don't worry. We'll find something."
The rest of the day, Clarissa devoted herself to deep research on TechNova Corp. She sat for hours before her laptop, gathering every scrap of information she could find. Her eyes never wavered, absorbing every detail.
TechNova Corp. The technology company that had rocketed to Southeast Asian prominence over the past five years. They developed apps and digital platforms used by millions. Their entry-level salaries alone tripled industry standards. Their headquarters occupied a gleaming skyscraper in Jakarta's most prestigious business district.
Clarissa felt like she was peering into another world—one that had once been hers, but now seemed foreign and distant.
Most intriguing was their CEO—a twenty-eight-year-old man who had built this tech empire from nothing. Company website photos showed only silhouettes or angles that concealed his face.
His biography was sparse: magna c*m laude graduate from a prestigious university, founded TechNova Corp immediately after graduation, achieved phenomenal success in record time.
"Such a mysterious CEO," Clarissa murmured. "Why hide his identity like that?" The question gnawed at her.
As evening approached, Clarissa and her mother ventured to the nearest mall with what little money remained. They wandered through various stores, searching for one decent interview outfit they could afford.
Clarissa's heart sank with every price tag—even the simplest clothes felt expensive given their current circumstances. Once, she could buy anything without checking prices. Now, she had to count every rupiah.
In a women's clothing store having a clearance sale, they found a charcoal gray blazer at a reasonable price. Not as expensive as what Clarissa used to wear, but neat enough for a job interview. Combined with a plain white blouse, black dress pants, and decent secondhand dress shoes.
"You look beautiful and professional." her mother said, watching Clarissa try on the outfit before the store mirror. "Confidence is the key."
Clarissa studied her reflection. The girl in the mirror was still beautiful, but different from the old Clarissa. There was maturity in her eyes, a new strength forged from suffering. Perhaps this was a better version of herself—one who no longer depended on luxury to define her worth.
That night, Clarissa practiced interviewing before her mirror. She memorized answers to standard questions, rehearsed eye contact, handshakes, and proper body language. She scrutinized every movement, calibrated every vocal inflection. She couldn't afford a single flaw.
"Good morning, my name is Clarissa Maharani. I'm very interested in joining TechNova Corp because of the company's innovative and visionary reputation," she told her reflection, repeating until it sounded natural as breathing.
Her mother knocked and entered with a cup of warm tea. "It's late, Clarissa. You need rest."
"Just a little longer, Mom. I have to prepare perfectly." Clarissa accepted the tea with hands still trembling from nerves. "This is our only chance to rise again. I can't mess this up."
"You won't mess it up. You're intelligent and determined. TechNova Corp would be lucky to have an employee like you."
Clarissa hugged her mother briefly. "I'm scared, Mom. What if they find out about Dad's scandal? What if they reject me because of our family background?"
"If it's meant to be, it will happen. If not, something better is waiting." Her mother stroked her hair lovingly. "What matters is that you've given your best effort."
After her mother left, Clarissa sat on the bed's edge, staring at her interview outfit hanging neatly. Her mind drifted to the past—to days when she could buy expensive clothes without checking prices, when job interviews seemed impossible because she never thought she'd need to work. The irony was bitter.
Now, one job felt like a ticket to decent life. The only gateway to dignity.
She opened her phone's photo gallery, scrolling to old college pictures. One photo made her pause—graduation day, where she smiled broadly surrounded by friends, wearing an expensive dress with perfect makeup. In the background, barely visible, stood a figure with thick glasses.
David.
Clarissa enlarged the photo, studying the nerdy young man she had once cruelly hurt. A stab of pain pierced her chest. She remembered how David always sat in the front row, always raised his hand when professors asked questions, always earned top grades but was ignored by everyone. She remembered how David looked at her with admiring eyes, which she had shamefully repaid with humiliation. Self-disgust welled up.
"Forgive me, David," she whispered to the photo. "If we ever meet again someday, I'll give you a real apology."
But the chance of meeting again seemed slim. Jakarta was so vast, and David had probably moved to another city, or even abroad. Maybe now he had a happy life, with a successful career and a loving family. Maybe he'd forgotten the arrogant girl who had crushed his dignity before everyone.
Clarissa closed the photo gallery and placed her phone on the nightstand. Tomorrow would determine her future. She had to focus on the opportunity ahead, not get trapped in past regrets.
But still, before sleeping, she whispered once more: "I hope David is happy wherever he is now. And I hope I can become a better person than I was."
That night, Clarissa dreamed of tall glass buildings gleaming in sunlight, of grand conference rooms, and of herself sitting at a desk, smiling with satisfaction. In the dream, she succeeded. She rose from ruin and proved she deserved a second chance.
What she didn't know was that the dream would become reality in a way she never expected.
On the other side of the city, in a luxurious penthouse with a stunning Jakarta vista, David William stood before a massive window holding a tablet displaying Clarissa Maharani's résumé. His face was calm, but those dark eyes harbored a storm of invisible emotion.
"Clarissa Maharani," he whispered, studying the photo on her resume. A face still beautiful, but no longer radiating the arrogance of old. "Finally, we meet again."
He set down the tablet and took a glass of wine from the side table. One slow sip, his eyes never leaving the glittering city lights below. A thin, cold smile carved across his lips.
"This time, you'll taste what it's like to be toyed with," he murmured. "Welcome to the game I've prepared, Clarissa."
The night wind blew gently, carrying with it a plan for revenge long planted in a heart that had once been shattered.
Two hearts once wounded by the past were now preparing to meet again. One with hope for redemption, the other with vengeance hardened to ice.
And tomorrow, the game would begin.
- Writer
