04-jobless and homeless

Laila Moore

_______

I never got any sleep the whole night. I mostly wanted the morning to rise so I could rush back home. And after almost a seven hours flight, I arrived home. I was back in New York, a place I never thought I would return to.

As expected, I got cold feet from everyone. I had joined them in ST James cathedral where there were memorial services taking place.

After so long, I saw them again. My mother who was as beautiful as always, my sister and his husband, and my father who was sadly in a portrait.

They also saw me, and no one even cared to be good enough to say hello. They concentrated on the memorial, letting visitors come in, view the body and leave.

My sister was heavily pregnant. It was something I did not expect because for those years, I lived remembering some words from her husband, who was my ex-boyfriend, 'I will never love her until she gives up. And I will be back with you.'

I spent my three years thinking Timothy meant those words, and part of me waited for him. But at that moment, he did not even look at me. They fell for each other, they even had sex and were both expecting a baby.

It was so painful to see them again. My dad who never treated me like his own daughter, my mum who always found reason to scold me and my sister who stole what was mine.

I had to try so hard to act like I did not remember what they did to me. I just came to show respect to my dad

A picture of Dad was the center of attention. Many people who came to see him off were mostly rich since my family was well-known in the state. Dad was a known lawyer who owned his own law firm. I sometimes wondered how he gave justice to people while he did not see I deserved one.

Mum was also a criminal lawyer, and Kira was studying law. Timothy's father owned a law firm as well which merged with my father's when Kira and Timothy got married.

They were all familiar with the law, while I was a business management person.

I was either crying because of fatigue and the tiredness I had for those days, or maybe I was crying over Dad who never liked me once. I was not his favorite, neither was I his worst, I was nothing to him, more like, I was not his child.

His favorite was Kira. The beauty of the family who was supposed to marry a man I dated for two years. The purpose was to save our family business which of course they did.

Ever since Kira was born, all attention was directed to her. I was suddenly invisible even though I was never getting the attention any other child would get.

When she was born, I began seeing smiles on my parents' faces that I never saw. They showed emotions to Kira that I never knew existed. I also joined them in adoring the new baby because of course I was happy I had a sister.

But the more I grew, the more I felt like an outcast. Loneliness sabotaged me. I was distanced. I was forced to run errands and do whatever difficult task Kira couldn't do.

I thought I was the problem, that's why I never even made friends at school. Then Timothy showed up, he was so into me that he even made it hard for me to avoid him.

Slowly, I got a shoulder to lean on, a person to be telling my problems, and he listened. At least that's what I thought until he once blurted to me that I always focused on my problems more than our relationship. That time I knew he was right, I began curbing my problems so I could not lose him.

Until he was snatched from my hands.

"Hey, butterfly."

I cringed at the name. I couldn't lie because it once was my favorite, but hearing him call me that made me sick. Sick in my heart.

He was next to me. He smelt the same and I never noticed until then that I hated his smell. I couldn't even fathom what cologne it was. But he could have at least changed.

"Don't call me that." I kept my voice low. My sister was a few steps in front of us as she caressed Mum who was crying.

"It's a surprise to see how grown you are." He whispered and I controlled my eyes from rolling out of their sockets "Come on, can we talk like civilized people? We can't live like this."

I shot my gaze at him. I almost yelled but one look at the gray-haired man whose forehead was as huge as Mister Ross's car engine, I realized the idiot did not deserve my energy. How did I even find him handsome?

I beamed a rueful smile. "Let's focus on what's in hand first, shall we?"

He let out his almost nauseating breath. "Okay. I'm glad to see you smile, it looks like you are not mad or close to being mad."

Oh, I am mad that I had to see you again. I was okay when I was away from everyone. But for the respect I had for the father who forced himself to educate me until high school, I decided to show up and see him off.

"Kira and I agree to name our baby Laila." He spoke and my blood stopped flowing. "I mean, I begged her to let us do that, at least I wanted to be seeing you around in my life."

"Don't."

"Why not. I did not get to marry you, so the least I could do is to give birth to you. In case I never mentioned, you are beautiful."

I faced him. How on earth was I not yelling at him? One look at him and I was fed up. I even choked on unsaid words I had curbed in me. I just shook my head and without thinking, I left. I wanted to be away, at least I showed up, but everyone was suffocating me.

Mum did not even care to look at me twice. Same as Kira, and now him?

The streets did not look like I left. Or maybe I had forgotten how the surroundings used to look. I was heading in a direction I once knew it would take me home.

It was funny how I could still make steps toward our home. I remembered how I used to cry when ambling on the street. The painful thoughts reminisced and I was crying again.

But I loved our place. Only if I could have been going home to a happy family. I wondered what I did wrong to everyone. Why me? Why did they hate me?

The mansion was perfect. Workers were around the place and it felt odd to step my foot back at a place I left and swore to never return.

No one stopped me. I wished to get to my room, or the room I once called mine, and maybe bury myself in bed and cry.

But who was I kidding, three years were enough to change a lot. I had no room anymore. It was turned into a store. The dust had invented the place and unwanted stuff were thrown inside.

That proved to me that no one even regretted that I left home. They erased everything. My portraits that hung on the walls were nowhere to be seen.

As I stood there, letting pain drill into my heart. I heeded a car stopping outside.

I turned around and began walking towards the staircase. Feeling shattered, I wanted to disappear again.

The front door flew open and Mum walked in with Kira and Timothy behind her. Mum halted immediately when she saw me at the staircases. I for once wished she would look at me and cry begging me to return home, but her face was burning.

"Who gave you permission to step into this house?" Her ever-shrill voice echoed in the place. "You left! Why are you here?!"

I swallowed. "Mum…"

"Get out!" She barked and began approaching me. "Get out of my house!" She grabbed my hand and pulled me.

"Mum…Mum please–" I cried as I fought to be free. At least I could spend a night in our home.

"Your father made it clear to never show up here!" She pushed me outside the door. Funny how Kira or Timothy never tried to stop her. "Get out and go where you have been!"

"Mum," I cried while attempting to walk in. "I'm also his daughter."

"Oh wow!" She laughed mockingly. "Guess what your father said. You are and will never be his daughter again. He forgot you and I am sure his spirit doesn't even recall who you are!"

"Mum."

"Security!"

"Mum, please." I fell to my knees with tears blinding me. Kira grabbed me and began pulling me toward the gate. "Please."

"Can you leave and stop making a scene here? Didn't You hear what Mum said, at least show some respect to Dad's wish!"

Before two men grabbed my hands and began dragging me out, Mum slammed the door in my face. I was dragged under the rain as I stared at the door where the three had gotten in.

The guards made sure to lock the gate after they got me out. Rain was pouring immensely. Tears streamed down my cheeks and pain drilled me. I was reminded of old pain that I had fought to erase.

And I regretted coming home. I could have stayed back in California and take care of Mister Ross, the only person who appreciated my presence.

I took my phone to check how many dollars I had left in the bank. I needed somewhere to sleep, I needed to take a cab, and I also had to spare some dollars to book a flight back to California, back to my life.

If I was not having a blurry vision due to tears and rain, I was sure I saw a message on my notification.

I wiped my tears and tapped the email notification message. It was an email sent from the company I was working for.

I thought it was just a message informing everyone that Mister Ross was sick and was receiving medication at the hospital, but I was greeted by a message of the list of employees who were fired.

There were seven, and I was among them. And surprisingly, Oliver Castillo was announced to be the boss to take over FitFood as the new boss as his father undergoes serious medication.

I was fired. Oliver fired me from the only job I had.