Unforeseen Instances

One evening, during the restaurant evening rush, I weaved between tables, balancing a tray stacked with orders. It was a holiday, so many patrons were in the restaurant. The smell of expensive cologne was almost overwhelming; I sniffed as I walked by a table with a powerful scent.

'I might be allergic to something here.' I thought, blinking the water coming out of my smarting eyes.

A sudden collision sent the tray crashing down—plates and drinks clattering loudly. Gasps echoed through the room as patrons turned toward the commotion.

Heat flooded my cheeks; humiliation surged as the entire restaurant fell into a tense silence. I felt the icy stares and condescending comments and heard the stifled laughter, and it cut deeper than the shards on the floor.

"Out of the way, clumsy!" a customer sneered, stepping over the mess without a glance.

My hands shook as I scrambled to clean up. Tears welled in my eyes; I felt insignificant; my pride shattered alongside the broken dishes.

A colleague came to help me with the broken dishes while another mopped up the mess.

I could see my boss's face from across the room.

Fuck, I was definitely going to get torn into today.

"Briana, you're bleeding! Go get your hand checked."

"Yeah, we'll take care of it, OK?"

Later, in the break room, my boss, Mr. Granger, was waiting, his face filled with disapproval.

"What the hell was that, Summers?" he barked, his voice sharp and demanding.

"I-I'm so sorry, sir. It was an accident. I'll clean it up," I stuttered, my cheeks burning.

"Cleaning won't fix this," Mr Granger snapped. "You're a liability. You're done here."

My heart plummeted. "Please, Mr. Granger, I have a son to support. I'll do better," I pleaded, desperation seeping into my voice.

"Promises won't undo this mess," he retorted coldly, sealing my fate.

Panic squeezed my chest as I packed my belongings, bleeding hands stinging. Tears blur my vision. My dignity was bruised, and my future was uncertain.

I stopped by the emergency room to check my hands and bandage up.

I cried all the way home, head aching. I paced back and forth in my cramped apartment; once again, Jayden's business card burned a hole in my mind. I'd tossed it onto the table when I got home, hoping to ignore it, but it taunted me, teasing me with an offer that could change everything.

"I can't do this," I muttered, my steps quickening in agitation. I toyed with my phone, contemplating whether to call. I no longer had a job. How would I keep up?

'Hell, I don't know if he'll want me back after all that. What was the guarantee he hasn't given someone else the job?'

My mind conjured up desperate excuses to avoid Jayden.

My finger hovered over the "call" button, then hesitated, pulling back. Guilt gnawed at me—backing out of commitments wasn't my style. But  Leo's picture on the mantelpiece kept prickling my consciousness.

"I can't let Leo down," I whispered. I'll look for another job and take four if necessary.

Leaning against the wall, I closed my eyes, bracing myself for what lay ahead. This meeting with Jayden—could be a mistake or a leap of faith. But for Leo, I'd go to any length. With a drained sigh, I pocketed the card and went to get Leo from Sophie's. Heaven knows I'd need all my strength for this job hunt.

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That evening, while preparing dinner, Leo suddenly fell ill. His fever spiked overnight and only kept getting worse. Frantic, I rushed him to the hospital, where they discovered a severe infection that required immediate treatment.

I sat by Leo's hospital bed in the sterile, lit room. Watching him sleep fitfully, hooked up to machines and monitors, my resolve crumbled.

'Why is this happening today of all days.'

My bandaged hands pulsed with dull pain as I tried to massage my aching head.

Looking at him, so small and vulnerable, made me realise I couldn't do it alone. I had been managing, but now, faced with my child's health crisis, I needed help, not for myself but for Leo.

As I gazed at his pale face, I questioned every decision that led to this moment. Had my pride caused this? If I had just accepted Jayden's offer earlier, would Leo be in this condition?

In desperation, I pulled out my phone and dialled Jayden's number. My finger trembled as I waited for him to pick up. I knew when to admit defeat. I needed his help, and for the sake of my child, I was willing to set aside my pride.

The call connected after seemingly an eternity, and Jayden's voice, calm yet tinged with curiosity, filled my ear.

"Briana? To what do I owe the pleasure?"

A sob escaped me, betraying my distress. Was I really doing this?

"Briana, are you crying? Where are you?" His tone shifted from poised to concerned; I could hear fabric rustling

 in the background.

"It's nothing. I'm fine," I forced out between shuddering breaths. "Is the job still available?"

There was a pause, and his response was cautious and measured.

"Ria, answer me. Where are you?"

"Fuck! It's nothing! Why do you care? Is the job open or not?!" I shouted, scrubbing my face harshly.

Leo shifted in bed, and I hastily turned to face him. 'Did I wake him?'

There was silence on the line, and for a moment, I thought he had hung up.

"Jay—"

"Yes, come by my office tomorrow, let's talk."

"I'll be there," my heart felt like it fell to the ground, and I stroked Leo's soft curls.

"Fuck. Don't worry. I'll be there on time."

As the call ended, I turned fully to Leo and stroked his short curls gently. This call gave me a mix of relief and fear. I had made the difficult decision to reach out to Jayden, and now our paths were about to meet again, unintentionally, due to the shared well-being of our child.

Sitting there, absorbing the room's silence, my thoughts swirled. Would Jayden really help? Could I trust him after all that had transpired between us? The possibility of facing him, of reopening those old wounds, filled me with apprehension.