CHAPTER THREE

ARI'S POV:

Talk about a light in the tunnel.

Right now, my tunnel was caving in.

I lost my bartending job two days ago. I caught a cold and was down with a fever. Called in for a sick leave, and the next day, my job was replaced by someone else. Just like that.

It doesn’t matter how hard you work....or love. You’re always replaceable.

The thought was familiar. It didn’t even hurt anymore.....who was I lying to?

Now my second job, the morning shift at the Café, was all I had left. Ever since that night, I’d been walking around wrapped in a kind of numb, heavy silence. There was the burning anger, but mostly, it was empty, hollow.

My heart didn’t just hurt; it locked up in pain. You can’t miss what you don’t let in.

I’d trusted two people with everything, and they’d handed me back the pieces. Love wasn’t a comfort anymore. It was a wound I wouldn’t let anyone reopen. Not ever again.

Was I that unlovable that everyone keeps on abandoning me?

“Ari, you good? You’re zoning out again.”

Chloe was staring at me, a worried line between her brows. I’d been standing there, holding a dirty rag, staring at the smudged surface of the counter like I could wipe away the memory of Nathan’s face, Mary’s voice, the sound of them together.

Stop. Don’t go back there.

I forced a smile. “Yeah. Just tired.”

She didn’t look convinced, but she nodded and turned back to the espresso machine. I was grateful she didn’t push. I couldn’t talk about it. If I started, I might never stop.

The morning rush was about to start. I took a deep breath, bracing myself for the noise, the smiles.

Just get through the shift. Don’t feel. Just move. Think about Mom’s treatment. Lena’s tuition deposit. Rent: due in nine days..

The bell above the café door chimed.

The morning rush began. I picked up a tray, forced another smile, and went to work.

The café door chimed again.

Angela walked in, surrounded by her usual clique. My stomach tightened. I hadn’t seen her since the night of the party.

She slid into a booth by the window, her eyes finding mine immediately. A cold, slick smile spread across her face.

I walked over to take their order, my pen and notepad felt heavy in my hand.

“Well, look who it is,” Angela said, faking enthusiasm. “The help. Doing your daily slave labor, Ari?”

Her friends snickered.

I kept my face blank, my eyes lowered to the notepad.

Don’t react. Just take the order and leave.

“What can I get for you?”

She took her time, dragging out each word, making a show of looking over the menu she already knew by heart. Finally, she rattled off a complicated drink and a pastry. Her friends followed.

I wrote it all down without a word, turned, and walked away.

At the counter, my hands shook slightly as I prepared their drinks. Chloe glanced over, her brow furrowed, but I shook my head. It’s fine.

I brought the tray, setting their item carefully.

Angela picked up her cup, took a tiny sip, and made a face. “This isn’t what I ordered,” she said, her voice loud enough to turn a few heads. “I asked for an iced caramel macchiato with extra caramel drizzle. This is practically bare.”

I didn’t argue. “I’ll remake it.”

I took the cup back, my jaw tight. At the espresso machine, I made the drink again, exactly as she’d described.

When I set the new glass in front of her, she didn’t touch it. She just stared at it, then up at me, her eyes gleaming.

Then she pushed the drink away. “You put milk in this,” she said, her voice now echoing in the quiet café. “I told you I’m lactose intolerant. Are you trying to make me sick?”

My tongue was tied in my mouth.

Angela leaned forward, dropping to a whisper. “You really are as stupid as they say, aren’t you? No wonder Nathan dropped you for Mary. He said sleeping with you felt like pity."

I didn’t say a word. I picked up Angela’s freshly remade drink from the table and poured it slowly over her head. Iced coffee and caramel drizzle slid down her hair, her face, her expensive blouse.

She gasped, stunned, but I wasn’t done.

One by one, I grabbed each of her friends’ drinks_the lattes, the americanos, the smoothies_and dumped them on her. They shrieked, scrambling back from the booth, but I kept going until the last cup was empty and Angela sat soaked and sputtering in a puddle of brown liquid and melting whipped cream.

The café was dead silent.

I placed the last empty cup neatly on the table. “Now you look like what you are. Shallow, bitter, and full of shit.”

The café door to the back office burst open.

Manager Ross rushed out, his face already pinched with irritation. “What’s all this...?"

He stopped. His eyes swept from Angela to the empty cups on the table, to me standing calmly beside the booth with my apron still clean and my hands at my sides.

His face darkened. “Ari. My office. Now.”

I looked at him, then at Angela, who was beginning to tremble, whether from embarrassment or rage, I couldn’t tell.

I didn’t wait for him to say it. I could see it in his eyes as I untied my apron slowly, folded it once, and laid it neatly on the counter.

“Don’t stress yourself, Ross,” I said, my voice steady, though something inside me was crumbling. “I’m already leaving.”

I didn’t look back at anyone. I just walked out the front door, the bell chiming softly behind me for the last time.

The strength that had burned through me moments before vanished. My knees felt weak.

I just lost my last job. What now?

I pushed the thought down. I couldn’t afford to spiral. Not yet. I had nowhere to be. No shift to rush to. .

I need to find a new job. Start again.

The thought was exhausting. I’d have to scour listings, walk into places, smile, pretend I wasn’t one bad day away from breaking. And pray I wouldn’t run into Angela .

But that was for later.

Right now, it is still morning. Visiting hours at the hospital had just begun.

At least there was one place I was still needed. At least there was one person who wouldn’t look at me and see a failure.

I reached the hospital and walked the familiar, quiet hallway to her room. The nurse at the station gave me a soft look as I approached.

“She just drifted off, sweetie,” she said gently. “Had a rough night. Let her rest.”

I nodded, my throat tight. I didn’t go in.

Instead, I slid down the wall outside her door, my back against the cool plaster. I drew my knees to my chest and just sat there on the floor.

Inside, my mother was. Fighting. Surviving.

Out here, I was just… waiting. Trying not to fall apart.

My phone buzzed in my pocket.

I pulled it out slowly. An unknown number flashed on the screen. My stomach dropped.

It must be one of the debt collectors.

I let it ring twice more, my thumb hovering over the decline button. But ignoring it wouldn’t make it go away.

I swiped to answer and brought the phone to my ear, bracing myself. “Hello?”

“Am I speaking to Ms. Ari Johnson?” The voice on the other end was professional, and utterly unfamiliar.

“Yes… this is she.”

“Good morning. My name is Martin Vance, executive secretary at Blackwood Holdings. I’m calling to inform you that your application has been shortlisted. You are scheduled for a preliminary interview tomorrow morning at 8 a.m. sharp at our corporate headquarters.”

The words didn’t process at first. They floated somewhere in the air between the sterile hospital walls and my numb mind..

“Ms. Johnson?”

“Yes,” I breathed, my voice barely a whisper. “I—I’ll be there.”

“Excellent. Details have been sent to the email on your application. Please arrive fifteen minutes early. Good day.”

The call ended.

I lowered the phone and stared at the blank screen. Outside my mother’s door, on the cold hospital floor, a tiny crack of light split the dark.

I had an interview.

I had a chance.