Chapter 7 – Just Another Day

I never thought I’d see the day where I’d stand on a stage in fishnet stockings, an oversized pink hoodie, and pigtails with sparkly clips.

But here I was.

Trying to survive.

The lights in the bar were too bright and too fake. I could feel the sweat sticking to my back under the thick, ugly hoodie and the ridiculous fishnet leggings. I hated this outfit. I hated this job. But I had mouths to feed, and when the manager said the usual singer refused to sing that silly song.

“I’m not singing that trash,” she spat at the manager.

He looked around in a panic. Then his eyes landed on me.

“Mannie,” he whispered, pulling me aside. “Can you fill in? Just for this one?”

I hesitated.

He added, “You’ll get the full tip and I will pay you extra. If you can’t just tell me.”

That was all I needed to hear.

Rent was due. Groceries were low. One of the twins needed shoes, and baby Adam had outgrown all his socks. I couldn’t say no.

“I’ll do it,” I said, even though my stomach turned.

He looked surprised. “You sure, Mannie?”

“It’s just a song,” I smiled, trying to seem stronger than I felt. “I’ve done worse.”

I wasn’t proud of it. But when you’ve got eight kids waiting at home and barely enough money for rent, pride becomes something you hide, like your real name or your real face.

The regular singer had stormed off in a fit because a drunk customer requested “WAP.” I didn’t blame her. But unlike her, I didn’t have the luxury of walking out.

I pulled my fake twin buns tighter, smeared on extra blush, and climbed onto that stage like I belonged there.

Laughter erupted the moment I appeared.

“Look at that get-up!” someone howled.

I smiled through it all. A forced grin. I made a joke or two, pretended to be unbothered, and when the beat dropped, I just… went with it. The crowd hooted. I danced awkwardly. Sang off-key on purpose. They ate it up.

Inside, I just wanted to melt into the floor and disappear.

As I sang, I noticed two men at the VIP lounge of the bar. One of them caught my eye immediately.

He was tall, broad-shouldered, and walked like he owned the ground beneath him. His presence pulled all the air in the room toward him. Even the noise seemed to lower. He didn’t look like someone who belonged in a place like this.

And for some strange reason, he felt... familiar.

I couldn’t explain it.

He sat at the back with his friend. The second guy was more playful-looking—talkative, flashing his teeth like a model. He laughed at everything. But the first one… he barely even blinked.

His eyes stayed on me the whole time.

It made my skin crawl.

Not in fear. In something else. Something I didn’t want to name.

I looked away quickly. Focused on finishing the song. Made another joke, bowed, and got off the stage.

Backstage, I pulled off the costume and wiped the cheap makeup from my face. I didn’t like people seeing the real me. Especially in places like this. Too many men had followed me home when I didn’t hide my looks. Too many had tried things.

So I stayed plain. Safe.

The manager caught me on my way out.

“They want to talk to you,” he said, nodding toward the booth where the two men sat.

“I really need to go home,” I said. “My kids—”

“Just one minute,” he said. “I think one of them’s rich. Could tip big.”

I sighed.

Big tip meant bread and milk tomorrow. Maybe cereal. Maybe meat.

I went over.

The loud friend smiled right away. “Great performance,” he said cheerfully.

“Thanks,” I replied flatly.

The quiet one stared at me.

I felt the heat of his gaze. It wasn’t like most men. It wasn’t lust. It was confusion. Frustration. Like he was trying to figure me out.

He asked, “How many kids do you have?”

I blinked. “Excuse me?”

He didn’t smile. “Your manager said you had to go home to your kids.”

I frowned. “That’s none of your business.”

The loud one laughed. “Don’t mind him. He’s not great with people.”

“I noticed.”

Then came the offer to drive me home. I said no. Twice.

I wasn’t about to trust two strange men in a bar—especially not one who stared at me like he was trying to read my soul.

I turned and walked away before they could ask more questions.

I had no time for games. No patience for rich men trying to act like they cared.

And that serious one… there was something arrogant about him. He didn’t speak much, but when he did, his words felt heavy. Final. Like he was used to people listening without question.

I’d met his type before. The kind who gave you attention only to take it away when they got bored. I had no use for that.

Still, I hated how he made my heart beat faster.

---

Outside, I breathed in the cold night air and pulled my scarf tight. I just wanted to disappear.

But I heard footsteps behind me.

“Wait,” the deep voice said again. The same cold one from the bar.

I stopped and turned around slowly. “Seriously?”

He stepped closer, hands in his coat pockets. “I think I know you.”

“I don’t think so,” I said, annoyed.

“You were at a hotel five years ago.”

I blinked. “Excuse me?”

He stared at me like I was supposed to react. “It was raining. You were wearing a maid’s uniform.”

I took a step back. “Are you for real right now?”

“You don’t remember?”

I laughed dryly. “I’ve worked in hotels, cleaned rooms, mopped floors, but I don’t remember you.”

He narrowed his eyes. “You don’t remember anything?”

I shook my head. “Look, I don’t know what fantasy you’re living in, but I’m not part of it.”

“I’m not guessing,” he said softly. “It was you.”

“Wow,” I muttered. “Okay, so let me guess. You walk up to women, tell them you had a special night five years ago, and hope they fall for it?”

“No,” he said firmly. “You feel... familiar.”

“And you feel insane,” I snapped. “Why are you even following me?”

“I just thought maybe we had a connection—”

“No,” I cut him off. “You saw me on stage and thought I’d be an easy target. That’s all this is. Another rich man thinking he can throw out a few charming lines and get what he wants.”

“That’s not what I meant—”

“I don’t care what you meant,” I said, backing away. “You don’t know me. You don’t know anything about my life. And I’m not going to stand here and let you talk nonsense about hotels and storms and maid uniforms like it’s some twisted love story.”

He looked stunned. Just for a second.

Then he nodded slowly.

“I thought you were someone else,” he said.

“You were wrong,” I replied, and turned on my heel.

------

I got home late. My feet ached. My back felt like it would snap in two. As soon as I walked in, I heard my mother’s voice before I even took off my shoes.

“There you are!” she snapped. “Do you know what time it is?”

I dropped my bag by the door. “I had a shift.”

“You’re always working, and for what? Eight children! I still don’t understand how you ended up like this.”

I bit my tongue.

She went on. “Zarah married rich. She sends us gifts. You? You bring noise, bills, and crying babies.”

I stayed silent.

She wasn’t wrong about the noise. Even now, I could hear two of the kids fighting over a stuffed animal.

“At least I am trying.” I muttered.

“I don’t care. You’re always working, and this place still looks like a dump. You really think raising eight kids in this rat box makes you a good mother?”

I walked to the kitchen and opened the fridge. Empty again.

“You know how expensive milk is?” she shouted behind me. “Why don’t you give some of them up? Do you know how crazy you sound when you say you’re raising them alone?”

“They’re mine,” I said calmly.

“Do you even know who the father is?”

I froze.

Her words cut deep. But I didn’t answer.

Because I didn’t know what to say.

“I bet it’s one of those bar guys,” she muttered. “Disgusting.”

I walked past her without another word and made hot water with some old tea leaves. The kids would have it for breakfast, pretend it was soup.

I was too tired to argue.

-------

Later that night, I was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling. All eight kids were finally asleep. I could hear soft breathing, little sighs, the occasional kick of a leg hitting the mattress.

Then I felt a tiny hand on my cheek.

I turned.

It was Lily, my second youngest.

“Mommy?” she whispered.

“Yes, baby.”

“Are you tired?”

I smiled. “A little.”

She leaned forward and kissed my forehead. “I made the milk warm tonight. Because I wanted you to rest.”

My throat tightened.

I pulled her close. “Thank you.”

She looked up at me with her big eyes. “Mommy… that man we saw on TV. He looked a little like Jay.”

I blinked. “Who?”

“The man with the serious face.”

I paused.

“He was scary,” she added. “But he smelled like the woods.”

I laughed, “You could tell all that from the TV”.

“Its instinct, mommy.” I rolled my eyes at her response, Yeah instinct, more like she imagined it.

I thought about the man’s face again. The tall one. The way he looked at me. The strange way my body reacted. The way something deep inside me almost recognized him.

No.

I shook the thought away.

That man couldn’t be the one. The father of my kids? No way. He looked like someone important. Someone rich. Someone cold.

Not the kind of man who would have sex with a maid and forget about her.

Still…

I looked at Lily. I touched her soft cheek, her little nose, the shape of her chin.

For a second, I thought she did look a little like him.

Then I laughed quietly to myself.

It must be my imagination.

“They look like me,” I whispered to myself. “They’re smart, beautiful, strong. Just like me.”

I turned off the lamp.

Wrapped my arms around Lily.

And let the night take me.