CHAPTER III

NEW DAY

Before heading to bed, I glanced at my phone and saw the delivery schedule for the next day. Another drop-off at Rockwell Corporation. My heart gave a small flutter—was it excitement, or just the hope that tomorrow might bring something new? I wasn’t sure.

As I lay there in the dim light of the small room, the weight of the day settled on my shoulders. I could feel the thin mattress beneath me, the fabric worn and soft from years of use. The silence in the room was almost oppressive, but it was a silence I had come to know well—a kind of quiet that wrapped itself around my thoughts, leaving me alone with my hopes and fears.

Tomorrow felt like another battle, another challenge to face, but I had learned not to fear the challenges. They were part of the rhythm of my life now. My heart still fluttered at the thought of the delivery tomorrow—Rockwell Corporation. Every time I stepped into their sleek, glass-and-steel building, I couldn't help but feel a spark of something. Maybe it was the possibility of change, of meeting someone who could help me climb out of the rut I was in. Maybe it was just the brief escape from the cramped, forgotten corners of my life.

But I wasn't deluding myself. I knew better than to expect too much. Hope, after all, was a fragile thing. Too many times before, I had let myself dream—only to be left standing alone when the dreams didn’t come true.

Still, tonight I prayed for strength. Not for the impossible, not for miracles, but for the courage to face what was coming. For Mama, who needed me more than ever, and for myself, to find the courage to keep moving forward, no matter how difficult the path seemed.

And somewhere, deep inside, there was a quiet promise that I would keep trying, one day at a time.

The night stretched on, but sleep didn’t come easily. My mind was filled with the thoughts of tomorrow—the delivery, the brief moments of contact with the people at Rockwell, the chance to glimpse a life that seemed so far beyond my reach. But even as those thoughts circled, I held onto the prayer for strength. Because no matter how small, it was all I had right now.

Finally, exhaustion claimed me, and my thoughts began to blur. I let them go, trusting that the strength I needed would come, just as I had always known it would.

With one final breath, I drifted into sleep, ready to face whatever tomorrow might bring.

The sun rose too soon, its golden rays peeking through the thin curtains of my tiny room. I stirred awake, the heaviness of sleep lingering in my limbs. Another day had begun, and there was no time to waste.

By habit, I moved quickly, pulling on my worn school uniform—a white blouse and a navy skirt that had seen better days. I grabbed my satchel, stuffing it with my old notebooks and borrowed textbooks, before slipping quietly into the kitchen. Mama was already up, humming a tune as she prepared breakfast.

“Good morning, my child,” she greeted me with a soft smile. Despite the lines of worry etched on her face, she always found a way to give me warmth. “Eat first before you leave.”

I nodded, sitting down to eat the small plate of fried rice and a single egg she had prepared. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to get me through the morning. As I ate, Mama asked about my schedule for the day.

“School first, Ma,” I said between bites, “then I have a delivery later. At Rockwell Corporation again.”

She paused for a moment, her eyes softening. “Can you manage, my child? Don’t push yourself too hard.”

I nodded, giving her a reassuring smile. “I can do it, Ma. This is for us.”

After a quick goodbye, I stepped out into the bustling streets. The air was crisp, the scent of morning dew mingling with the distant aroma of street food. My school wasn’t far, but the journey was always a reminder of the divide between where I was and where I wanted to be. The high-rise buildings in the distance seemed to mock my simple dreams, but I ignored them. I had no choice but to keep moving forward.

At school, the day passed in a blur of lectures and scribbled notes. My teachers often remarked on my dedication, though some of my classmates were less kind, whispering about my threadbare shoes or the way I always seemed to rush off after class. I didn’t let it bother me; they didn’t know my life, and I had no time to explain.

By the time the last bell rang, I was already on my way to my part-time job. I swapped my school uniform for a simple shirt and jeans, tying my hair into a ponytail as I headed to the small delivery shop where I worked.

“Oh, you’re here,” my supervisor said as I entered. “There are orders that need to be delivered. One is for Rockwell Corporation.”

Hearing the name sent a familiar flutter through me. It was strange how that place always made my heart race, though I couldn’t quite say why. Maybe it was the grandeur of the building or the fleeting interactions with people whose lives seemed so different from mine.

Loading the packages onto my bike, I set off into the evening. The city was alive with the hum of traffic and the chatter of people heading home. As I pedaled, the weight of the day threatened to drag me down, but I pushed through. Each delivery was a small step toward the future I was fighting for.

When I finally arrived at Rockwell Corporation, the sun was setting, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink. I parked my bike and adjusted my shirt, trying to look presentable.