Chapter 1

Pain… I know pain. I know how it feels, how it can twist and break you until you’re nothing but fragments of who you used to be. I’m shattered, and I can’t be fixed. Happiness is fleeting—whenever I think I’ve found it, it slips through my fingers, leaving me even more broken than before. Have you ever been in a place where you can’t cry anymore, even when you desperately needed to? When the tears just won’t come, no matter how much you want to let it all out?

I’ve been broken so many times. I kept believing that someday I’d find my own happiness, my own joy. But it never seems to work out. My name is Ivy Thompson. I’m twenty-four years old, and my life feels like an endless cycle of hope and despair. I’ve been hunting for a job for two years now, but every time I think I’ve found an opportunity, it slips away. No one ever gives me a chance. The rejection, the endless disappointment—it's suffocating.

I thought things would change, but they never do. Every time I get a glimpse of happiness, it vanishes, leaving me empty. I’m exhausted from the constant struggle. I sat in the corner of my room, sobbing quietly, the walls around me closing in. I just wanted it to stop, the pain, the hopelessness, all of it.

My roommate kept knocking on the door, her voice filled with concern. She asked if I was okay, but I couldn’t bring myself to answer. How could I tell her that my interview didn’t go well? That, once again, I had failed? I felt like a failure—a complete, utter failure. The sobs racked my body for hours, the weight of everything pressing down on me until it felt like I couldn’t breathe.

"Vee, I know you're in there. Just open the door, let's talk things out," Camila's voice came softly from the other side. I didn’t respond. Instead, I sat there, quietly sobbing, hoping she’d give up and leave. But she didn’t. She stayed.

I didn’t want her to see me like this. I didn’t want her to worry. She already had so much on her plate, and I couldn’t bear to add to it.

But eventually, I gave in. I got up and unlocked the door, coming face-to-face with my best friend. Camila’s face was filled with concern, her warm hands gently cupping my cheeks as she wiped away my tears.

“You’ll be fine, Ivy. Don’t let this pull you down,” she said softly. I nodded, feeling like a child being comforted by his mother. Her smile was reassuring, full of quiet strength, as she stepped inside.

I could see the curiosity in her eyes, the unspoken question lingering—how was the interview? But she didn’t ask. Maybe she knew this wasn’t the right moment. Maybe she just wanted to be here for me, no questions asked.

"I got rejected" i said.

"Again" i added but this time the bitterness in my voice. I decided to clear her curiosity and just told her how it went even tho she might had figured it out.

"Ohh sweetie it gonna be fine i promise" she said pulling me into a hug I needed it so badly. As i cried my eyes out.

Immediately, her phone rang, and she looked at me. “It’s Max,” she said before picking it up.

Max was Camila’s boyfriend and also my friend, though we weren’t that close. They loved each other so much, and I admired what they had. But deep down, I felt a heavy ache in my chest. I’d never had someone who loved me that deeply or cared for me in the way they did for each other.

“Of course,” she said softly before hanging up.

“He said he’ll be coming over today. He has something important to tell us,” she said, her voice light. I nodded in response.

“Come downstairs. I’ve prepared something delicious for you,” she said with a warm smile. I smiled back, but it was a weak, fake smile.

“We’re going to get you a new job. Don’t worry,” she added as she stood, pulling me to my feet.

We reached the door, and Camila opened it as we headed toward the dining room. The sweet aroma of her cooking filled the air, momentarily sweeping away the weight of my worries. For that moment, nothing else mattered but the food.

I sat down at the table, staring at the spread before me: spaghetti, meatballs, and golden-brown chicken. The sight alone made my stomach growl.

“Come on, dig in,” she urged, her voice full of encouragement.

I didn’t need any more convincing—I was starving. I grabbed my fork, twirling it into the spaghetti before taking a bite. As I closed my eyes, the rich flavors hit my tongue, and I let out an involuntary sigh. Damn, she was good at this.

Camila had studied catering before she went to business school, and it showed. Everything she made tasted like it came straight from a five-star restaurant.

She sat across from me, her brown, puffy hair catching the soft light of the dining room. Her complexion was a warm, rich brown, and her deep brown eyes always seemed to hold a spark of kindness. I couldn’t help but admire her beauty.

Camila was a Black American, with her roots tracing back to Africa through her mother, who had moved to the U.S. and met her white father. Her features carried the best of both worlds, and her presence always had a comforting warmth to it.

As I ate, the heaviness in my heart eased just a little. For now, I could focus on the plate in front of me—and on Camila, whose gentle smile always seemed to remind me that everything might just be okay.

There was a knock on the door.

"I'll get it," I said quickly, stopping Camila before she could get up.

I walked to the door and opened it. Max stood there with his usual easy smile.

“Don’t give me that sad look, Ivy,” he said with a teasing scoff.

I stepped aside, opening the door wider for him to enter. Max walked in, his confident stride matching his tall, six-foot frame. With his blonde hair, piercing gray eyes, and sculpted abs, he was undeniably handsome—a fact I couldn’t help but notice every time he came around.

He made his way over to Camila, leaning down to give her a quick peck on the cheek. Then he pulled out a chair and sat down, immediately grabbing a fork and diving into the food.

I returned to my seat, my eyes instinctively drawn to him. He had a way of commanding attention without trying.

“Fuck! Babe, this is so fuckin’ good,” Max exclaimed, his words muffled by the food in his mouth.

Camila beamed at the praise, but her curiosity quickly took over. “So, what’s up? What do you want to tell us?” she asked, leaning forward slightly.

My attention snapped to Max. I couldn’t deny the flicker of hope I felt, waiting for his response.

“Ivy,” he began, looking at me directly, “I know things didn’t go well with today’s interview. But listen—my boss at work just fired his secretary, and he’s looking for a replacement. I went to him and told him I know someone who’d be perfect for the job. That someone is you. He said you should come see him tomorrow.”

He didn’t miss a beat, popping another meatball into his mouth like it was no big deal.

“Wow, really? Thank you so much, Max!” I exclaimed, my face lighting up with a genuine smile for the first time in what felt like days.

Beside him, Camila practically glowed with pride. “Thank you so much, babe,” she said, reaching out to hold Max’s hand, her voice full of affection.

“Anything for you guys,” he replied with a casual shrug, his words warm and sincere.