Chapter Five - The Collision

~ Helena~

I was lost in thought, my rag moving absentmindedly across the surface of the wooden table at the restaurant where I worked. The hum of voices, the clatter of cutlery, and the scent of grilled food swirled around me, but none of it registered. My mind was somewhere else buried under worries I couldn’t seem to shake.

A sudden snap of fingers jolted me back.

“Hey, good afternoon,” a man’s voice said firmly.

I blinked, startled, and looked up to see someone standing directly in front of me. Embarrassment flushed through me. “Sorry, good afternoon,” I said quickly, straightening.

And then recognition hit. It was him the man I’d helped a few days ago when his little daughter had gotten lost and frightened.

His expression softened. “How are you?” he asked warmly.

“I’m fine,” I said, mustering a small smile. “What a surprise. I didn’t expect to see you anytime soon.”

“Yeah,” he chuckled lightly, slipping his hands into his pockets. “I just wanted to say thank you again.”

“Oh, it was nothing,” I said, shaking my head.

But he tilted his head slightly, studying me. “Is everything okay? You looked…lost in thought when I saw you.”

The weight in my chest pressed down harder. I sighed, setting the rag aside. “Things haven’t been going well at home,” I admitted, my voice low. “I need to find a way to earn more income for the household. Just two days ago, my landlord called reminding me that the rent is due. And I…” My throat tightened, and I forced the words out. “I haven’t gathered enough to pay.”

I hesitated, but the silence between us was too kind, too patient. “I also lost my dad not long ago,” I added quietly. The words stung, even now.

His eyes softened, sympathy flickering in them. After a pause, he said, “I can help you if you’re willing to take the offer. The job I left in Washington, D.C. is still vacant. I can arrange an interview for you.”

My heart leapt, excitement surging in my eyes. “Really?”

But just as quickly, guilt swept in. I thought of my mom, fragile and alone. I couldn’t leave her behind. Not like this.

“Thank you,” I said softly, “I’ll…get back to you.”

He nodded, understanding, and left. I forced myself back into work, though my mind never returned to the restaurant.

Later, walking home through the fading evening light, my thoughts churned around the offer. The idea of leaving Pennsylvania for Washington was thrilling, terrifying, impossible all at once. Could I really do it? Could I leave my mom?

But all those questions vanished the moment I turned the corner onto my street.

An ambulance.

Parked right in front of my house.

My stomach dropped. My steps quickened into a sprint, fear clawing at me. “No, no, no…” I whispered as I shoved open the door.

Inside, chaos blurred my vision. Paramedics crouched over my mother, lifting her carefully onto a stretcher. Her face was pale, her lips trembling faintly.

“Mom!” I cried, rushing to her side. “What happened?”

One of the paramedics glanced at me quickly. “She wasn’t feeling well. She managed to call before we arrived, but she collapsed shortly after.”

I felt the air vanish from my lungs.

They wheeled her out swiftly, and I clung to her hand, refusing to let go. “I’m here, Mom. I’m right here.” My voice shook, but I tried to sound strong for her.

We rode in the ambulance, the sirens screaming against the night. I sat beside her, squeezing her hand, whispering prayers I wasn’t sure anyone heard.

At the hospital, they rushed her inside. Hours blurred into minutes. I sat in the waiting room, knees bouncing, heart refusing to calm. Finally, a nurse called me to the doctor’s office.

“Good morning, please sit,” the doctor said gently.

My legs wobbled as I sat. Fear strangled my words. “What’s wrong with my mom? Is she going to be okay?”

The doctor folded his hands. “Your mom has a tumor in her brain. It isn’t fully developed yet, but it will require surgery to be removed. For now, she’ll need to stay healthy, come for regular check-ups, and prepare until the right time for surgery.”

The words didn’t register at first. Then they hit, heavy and sharp.

A tumor.

I couldn’t breathe. I nodded numbly, murmured a thank you, and left his office in a daze.

I found my mom in her hospital bed, her eyes fluttering open. I forced a smile, though my chest burned. “The doctor explained everything. They can remove it with surgery,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

She reached for my hand, her touch warm but weak. “Don’t worry, my princess. You don’t have to do anything. I’ll be fine.”

Tears threatened to spill, anger rising with them. “What do you mean ‘you’ll be fine’? You’re not planning on leaving me like Dad, are you?”

Her silence was enough.

We went home later in silence. I tucked her into bed, kissed her forehead, and lingered by her door until I was sure she was asleep.

Then I stepped out onto the balcony. The night air was cold, brushing my skin like needles. I wrapped my arms around myself, staring blankly at the street below, thoughts crashing louder than the traffic.

That’s when Tasha arrived.

She let herself in quietly, her eyes immediately finding mine. “Helen,” she whispered, and her arms wrapped around me before I could protest. “What happened?”

Her warmth cracked me open. I told her everything. The tumor. The bills. The landlord. The job offer. Every word spilled like a confession.

When I finished, my voice was barely audible. “I can’t leave her, Tasha. Not now.”

But Tasha gripped my shoulders firmly. “Your mom won’t be alone. She has me. She has Mrs. Lawson. We’ll always be here. You need to take this opportunity. For her. For you.”

Her certainty was like sunlight breaking through clouds. Tears blurred my eyes as I pulled her into a hug. “Thank you,” I whispered.

That night, I dialed the man’s number. “I’m in,” I said, voice steady.

Morning came too quickly.

I dressed carefully, choosing my best outfit, smoothing every crease until I felt at least a shadow of confidence. I took the morning bus from Pennsylvania to Washington, D.C. a three-hour ride that stretched endlessly. My reflection in the bus window looked both terrified and determined.

When the skyline finally appeared, my breath caught.

The company building stood tall and elegant, glass gleaming under the morning sun. “I can do this,” I whispered to myself, squaring my shoulders.

Inside, everything was immaculate, the marble floor polished to perfection, the chandelier glittering above. I approached the receptionist, who gave me a practiced smile and pointed me toward the elevators.

I stood waiting, nerves coiled tight, when impatience got the better of me. “Is it broken?” I muttered under my breath.

I turned to leave just as I collided with someone.

The impact jolted me, and the coffee cup in my hand splashed forward.

Right onto his shirt.

“Oh my goodness!” I gasped, horrified. The hot liquid spread across his crisp white shirt, staining it brown. My cheeks flamed as I scrambled for napkins. “I’m so, so sorry. Please, let me make it up to you.”

He brushed at the stain slowly, jaw tight, eyes sharp with irritation. “It’s…fine,” he said, though his voice carried an edge.

“Please, let me take it to the dry cleaner,” I begged.

“No.” His tone was curt, final. “Besides, I don’t do regular dry cleaners.”

He turned and walked away, his frustration trailing behind him like smoke.

I stood frozen, my guilt gnawing at me. But time was against me. I had an interview to attend.

I rushed into the conference room where a panel of executives waited. My nerves spiked, my heart hammering as my name was called.

I rose, smoothed my skirt, and walked in with all the confidence I could muster.

But the moment my eyes lifted, my confidence shattered.

At the head of the table sat the man I had just spilled coffee on. His suit is pristine now, b

ut his sharp gaze is unmistakable.

The CEO.

My stomach sank.

“I’m done for,” I whispered under my breath, dread twisting in my chest.