4 - Job Hunting

Araceli's Pov

My kitchen felt suffocating as I slurped down the last of my instant noodles. Hunger had won the war against dignity tonight. I dropped the empty bowl into the sink, ignoring the pile of dishes that had accumulated. My body was too drained to care, I can sort it out later.

Sinking into my couch, I tried to distract myself with another episode of Love*****d, but my mind had other plans. His face, Mr. Stranger, kept creeping into my thoughts. His piercing gaze, the way he carried himself, his confidence, the air of authority that seemed to be flowing out of him, even in a dingy club like that... Who is he? What was he doing in a place that is clearly out of standard for him? 

His presence had done something to me, flipping a switch I didn’t know existed. On stage, his eyes had locked onto mine, and for a moment, I had felt like the only person in the room. I can't deny the little part of me that hoped he was pleased with my move.

And then he had walked up on stage. That memory made my cheeks heat up. I shook my head to stop the blush from spreading so much on my cheeks. The way he had commanded my space, the silly temptation to feel his lips on mine... it was enough to drive me insane.

Tony has been on my neck about him showing up again, and Ellen wouldn't stop teasing me about "Mr Handsome." She thinks I have a future with him.

“Get it together, Araceli,” I muttered to myself, dragging my legs off the couch.

I need a nap, but first, I have to shower. After a quick bath, I threw on an oversized, faded polo and collapsed onto my bed. The second my head but the pillow, I was out like a light.

****

The shrill ringtone jolted me awake. Groaning, I squinted at the brightness of my phone screen. Doctor Michael. My heart dropped. Why was he calling this early?

Sleep disappeared instantly, replaced by the cold familiar feeling of dread.  I swiped my finger across the screen,

“Hello?” I answered, my voice scratchy.  

“Araceli, how are you?” His tone was gentle, too gentle.  

“What’s going on, Doctor?” I cut straight to the point, bracing myself for any news.  

There was a pause on the other end, and I could almost hear him drawing a breath. “It’s your mother. She’s not doing well.”  

“What do you mean? She was fine the last time I visited,” I argued, clutching the phone tightly.  

“She was making progress, but her condition has taken a turn for the worse. Araceli…” His voice faltered. “We need to talk about her life support. I think it’s time to let her go.”  

The words hit like a punch. “No. No way. I’m not killing my mother!” My voice cracked, tears streaming down my face.  

“You have done everything you can. You have gone above and beyond. Maybe it’s time to focus on yourself,” he urged.  

“No!” The word came out before I could stop it, my lips trembling as tears didn't stop flowing down my cheeks 

“You can’t ask me to do that. She’s my mother!”

“I understand how you feel, but Araceli,…”

“No, you don’t!” Tears streamed down my face. “I’m not killing my mom, Doctor.”

“You are not killing her,” he said softly. “You have done so much, more than anyone your age should have to. Maybe it’s time to let go and live for yourself instead. Travel, explore life, go have adventures.”

“I don’t care what you think. You are not taking her off that machine. I will find the money for the next round of treatment. Don’t you dare touch her without my consent!”

A heavy silence stretched between us before he sighed. “The next round of treatment is due in three weeks. It’s expensive, Araceli. I hate to ask, but it’s her best chance.”  

I glanced at the calendar, the date circled in blue marker staring back at me like a ticking time bomb. My throat tightened.  

He sighed again. “I hope you will reconsider. Call me if you need to talk. Bye Araceli.”

By morning, I was out the door, dressed in an ill-fitting blazer but determined to find a job, any job. After a string of failed interviews, my confidence began to wear thin. My resume, full of ballet and theater, was a joke in the corporate world.  

But I couldn’t give up. Not when my mom’s life depended on it.  

Finally, I stood before a gleaming skyscraper. ‘Monolith Enterprises Inc.’ The name was bold on the glass, as if daring me to walk away. It was ridiculous, applying to the top-rated company in the city with my lack of credentials. But desperation was eating at me.

"This is very foolish Araceli."

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I walked into the building, trying my hardest to fit in.

The receptionist, a woman with a perfect face and a nametag that read ‘Valerie’ didn’t bother hiding her disdain. 

“You are late for the interview,” she said, looking me up and down like I was gum on her shoe.  

“I…I didn’t know there was a scheduled time.” I stammered.

She rolled her eyes “Take a seat,” she snapped, gesturing to a row of chairs where three impeccably dressed women sat.  

They looked like they belonged here, poised, polished, and oozing confidence. I swallowed my nerves and took one of the empty seats, feeling smaller with every passing second and more aware of my worn outfit and sweaty palms.

 When my turn finally came, I walked into the office, only to freeze in shock.

It was him. Mr. Stranger.

On the nameplate on his desk, “Zayn Vanderbilt, CEO of Monolith Enterprises Inc.” was boldy written on it.

 My heart dropped. Why him of all people?

He looked up, his piercing blue eyes locking onto mine. “Are you here for an interview or just to stare at me?” he asked, voice cold and sharp.  

I snapped out of it, fumbling to hand over my file.  

He flipped through it, his frown deepening with each page. “Do I look like a joke to you?” he asked, shoving the file back toward me. “Am I supposed to hire you based on this?”  

His voice thundered through the room, but I refused to back down. “I may not meet your standards on paper, but I can assure you, there’s no one better for this job than me. Give me a chance, and I will prove to you that I’m the best person for this job.”

He leaned back in his chair, studying me like I was some kind of puzzle he wants to figure out.

“What’s your name?” he asked finally.

“Araceli Wilson.”

He glanced at a book on his desk. “You are not on the interview list. When was your appointment scheduled?”

“I... I didn’t have one.” I admitted.

His expression hardened. “So, not only are you unqualified, but you also had the audacity to walk in here without an appointment.”

He clinched his fist, mumbling something about “dealing with the security team”

“I need this job, Mr. Vanderbilt,” I said, my voice steady despite the storm raging inside me. “Please, just give me a chance.”

For a moment, he said nothing, his sharp gaze pinned on me. Finally, he leaned forward.

“You are not what I’m looking for,” he said bluntly. “Try somewhere else.”

I left the office with my head held high, refusing to let him see how much his rejection stung.

Back in my apartment, I collapsed onto my bed, tears spilling over. I felt lost, I have no idea on what next to do. The weight of everything, my mother, the rejection, my dwindling savings, it all felt too much to bear.

An email notification buzzed on my phone. Wiping my eyes, I opened it.

“Be in my office at 8:00 AM on Monday morning.”

My heart stopped.

What?