A Big Mess

Isabella’s POV:

Life? Well, it's a mess. Always has been, and I’ve grown used to it. You’re probably wondering how it all began. I was two years old when my mother—or maybe it was someone else, I don’t remember—left me at an orphanage. I grew up there. The place was small, just me and ten other kids. You'd think that would make it a tight-knit group, but nope. They all hated me because Nanny, the woman who ran the place, loved me the most.

Nanny? Oh, she’s my everything. If there’s one person in this messed-up world that I call family, it’s her. She’s gotten old now, but let me tell you, she still believes she’s younger and has more energy than me. And trust me, sometimes I think she’s right. You’re probably wondering why I said "used to." Well, it’s not an orphanage anymore. All the other kids have been adopted. It’s just me and Nanny now. She’s tried countless times to get me adopted too, but I always refused. I couldn’t imagine leaving her behind. 

So here I am, living with Nanny and working at this café to help keep things going. The job? Well, it’s just that—a job. Most days, it's dull, filled with cranky customers and the occasional sweet old man who tips well. But today... Today is a whole new level of *ugh*.

I was at the counter, aimlessly staring at the customers. The boredom was mind-numbing, and when that sets in, people-watching becomes the only salvation. An old man was staring at his coffee like it was some kind of alien beverage. I couldn't help but smirk. First time seeing coffee, Grandpa?

Then there was a guy not even glancing at the food in front of him, his eyes glued to a blonde woman absorbed in her makeup. Typical. Guys these days, right? The only person having a genuinely good time was a little boy clapping his hands excitedly at his cup of cocoa. At least someone was happy in this place.

And then, my mood soured fast. I spotted a man completely butchering a cake I’d made. Murdering it with his fork, to be exact. I silently grieved for the hours of effort wasted. *That beautiful cake... gone.* If I weren’t on shift, I’d have marched over and slapped that fork out of his hand.

"Hey, you!" A sharp, annoying voice pierced my thoughts.

I blinked, drawn back to reality. In front of me stood the woman from hell—an irritated, over-dressed lady with a scowl.

 "Cappuccino," she demanded, without even a hint of politeness.

 *Here we go*, I thought.

 "How many, ma'am?" I asked, forcing the nicest voice I could muster.

 She gave me an annoyed once-over. "Do you see anyone else with me? Are you dumb or what? Just hurry up. I don't have the whole day."

Well, this is going to be fun.

I quickly made her cappuccino and brought it over to her table.

"Enjoy your coffee!" I said with a smile, more forced than real.

 She took one sip, her face twisted, and she spat it out dramatically, drawing the attention of half the café. “Ew! This tastes like crap!”

 I stared at her, momentarily stunned. 

I made *great* coffee—everyone said so. But clearly, her taste buds were broken.

“I’m so sorry, ma’am,” I said, barely keeping my cool, “I’ll make another one right away.”

 I returned to the counter, remade the cappuccino, and double-checked that it was perfect.

 *Let’s see her complain now.* 

With a confident smile, I returned and placed the new cup in front of her.

She took another sip. And then, just like before, she spat it out. “What the hell? This is worse than the last one!” She stood up and yelled at me, loud enough for everyone to hear. “Do you even know how to make coffee? Or do you just stand there gawking at people all day? You’re useless!”

My blood boiled. “Excuse me?” I said, barely containing my anger.

“Did I stutter?” She sneered. “You’re a waste of space. Go get someone who knows how to do their job!”

I took a deep breath, trying to keep calm. "Ma'am, you can’t talk to me like that. I’m just doing my job."

She laughed mockingly and shoved me. 

*Oh, hell no.*

That was it. I snapped. Without thinking, I grabbed a piece of cake from the counter and slammed it right into her smug face. 

Gasps erupted around the café. “Now who’s the trash?” I said, smiling sweetly. The look of horror on her face was priceless.

"You... you bitch!" she screeched, lunging at me.

But I was quicker. I grabbed her wrist, twisted it behind her back, and leaned in close. "I wouldn’t try that again if I were you," I whispered. "It's not my fault you can't appreciate good coffee."

I shoved her forward, and she stumbled back with a cry. Before I could enjoy my victory, I heard a voice from behind me. “Isabella!”

 I froze. The manager. *Of course.*

 “What the hell is going on here?” he demanded.

 The woman turned to him, pointing at me with cake still smeared on her face. “Look at what she did! She assaulted me!”

 “Isabella?” The manager’s face was a mix of anger and disbelief. “You know we can’t treat customers like this.”

 “Sir, I didn’t want to, but she was—”

 “I don’t care what she did!” he snapped cutting me in between. “You can’t behave like that.”

 "But—"

 "You're fired." he again cut me off and spoke.

 "What?" I stared at him, shocked. "You're firing me over this?"

 "You heard me. Get out. Now."

 I felt my stomach drop. “Sir, please, I’m sorry. Just give me another chance—”

 "GET. OUT," he shouted.

I couldn’t believe it. Fired? Over some rude customer? I didn’t even argue. I just stormed back inside, grabbed my things, and walked out. 

I saw that bitch smirking like she was telling me how she won!

I’m fired, right? So, Now I can do whatever I want, right?

Yess.

I decided to leave but not before one last act of rebellion. I marched over to her table, picked up the cappuccino she never drank, and threw it in her face.

“Have a nice day, ma’am,” I said sweetly before leaving the café for good.

I could hear her shouting from back.

 I walked home, my mind spinning with disbelief. Fired. Just like that. What was I going to do now? As if things couldn’t get any worse.

When I arrived home, I found Nanny sitting on the couch, staring at a piece of paper in her hand. The moment I saw her face, I knew something was wrong.

 “Nanny?” I knelt beside her and gently took the paper. My eyes scanned the words, and my heart sank.

 “What the hell…” I whispered.

 “They want to take this house,” Nanny said softly. “My son… he gambled it all away. This is all I had left, and now... Isa, what are we going to do?”

 Her son, that worthless drunk, had done it again. He’d taken the last thing we had. I felt the tears in my eyes but held them back. I couldn’t break down, not in front of her.

 I hugged her tightly. “Don’t worry, Nanny. We’ll figure something out. I’ll find a way.”

But deep down, I had no idea how. I had no job, no money, and we only had a week to leave. 

What the hell was I going to do now?