Wi$h Li$t
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Job $earch
Y/n POV:
The next morning started the same way every morning did.
The alarm buzzed before the sun came up, that shrill electronic shriek that had become the soundtrack to my exhaustion. I reached over and slapped it silent, lying there for a moment with my arm draped across my face.
Another day.
I rolled out of bed, my joints popping in protest, and shuffled to the bathroom. The mirror told the same story it always did tired eyes, unshaven jaw, hair that hadn't seen a barber in weeks. I splashed cold water on my face and tried to convince myself that today would be different.
It had to be.
I quietly started breakfast, moving through the motions on autopilot. Pancake batter in a bowl. Butter sizzling in the pan. The smell of something warm and sweet filling the apartment. It was the one thing I could still do right, even when everything else felt like it was falling apart.
Audrey wandered into the kitchen a few minutes later, still rubbing sleep from her eyes. Her hair was a wild mess, and she was wearing her favorite pajamas the ones with little dancing bunnies on them. She climbed onto one of the kitchen chairs, dragging her stuffed bunny with her.
"Morning, Mommy."
"Morning, baby."
She watched me flip pancakes with bleary eyes, her head tilted.
"They're shaped funny."
I glanced down at the uneven circles in the pan.
"They're abstract."
She tilted her head further.
"...What's that mean?"
I grinned.
"It means I messed them up."
She burst into giggles, the sound like sunshine breaking through clouds.
"They still taste yummy."
"I'm glad someone thinks so."
The laughter made the apartment feel a little lighter. For a few minutes, I almost forgot I didn't have a job anymore. Almost.
The drive to school was quiet. Audrey hummed along to the radio, her feet swinging beneath her car seat. I glanced at her in the rearview mirror, noticing the way she clutched her sketchbook a little tighter than usual.
"Excited for school today?"
She shrugged.
"I guess."
"Just 'I guess'?"
Another shrug.
"Maybe."
I let it drop. She'd tell me when she was ready.
As always, she hugged me before climbing out of the truck. Her small arms wrapped around my neck, squeezing tight.
"I love you."
"I love you more."
"Nope."
"I definitely do."
She smiled, but it didn't quite reach her eyes.
"See you later, Mommy."
I watched her disappear into the building before taking a deep breath.
Now came the hard part.
My first stop was another construction company on the other side of town. The building was modest a single-story office with a gravel parking lot and a faded sign out front. I walked in, my boots scuffing against the worn linoleum floor.
The receptionist was a middle-aged woman with tired eyes and a forced smile. She handed me an application without asking any questions.
I filled it out carefully.
Name: Y/N L/N.
Years of experience: Five.
Reliable transportation: Yes.
Available immediately: Yes.
She took the application, glanced at it for barely a second, and set it on a pile of identical forms.
"We'll call you."
I'd already heard those words enough times to know they usually meant no.
The second place was a warehouse on the industrial side of town. The building was massive, with high ceilings and the constant hum of machinery. The hiring manager was a young man in a cheap suit who barely looked up from his computer.
"Experience?"
"Five years in construction. I can lift heavy equipment, work long hours—"
"We're looking for someone with forklift certification."
"I can get certified."
"We've already filled the position."
The third place needed delivery drivers. The fourth wanted electricians. The fifth required a commercial driver's license.
By lunchtime, I'd been turned away more times than I wanted to count.
I sat in my truck with a fast-food cheeseburger that barely tasted like anything. The wrapper was greasy, the fries were cold, and the soda had gone flat. I ate it anyway because I'd paid for it and couldn't afford to waste food.
I stared at my phone, scrolling through my bank account.
$1,847.32.
Rent was due in two weeks.
$1,200.
Groceries for the month.
$400.
Utilities.
$150.
The numbers blurred together. No matter how I tried to rearrange them, they never added up to enough.
I rested my forehead against the steering wheel for a second, the leather warm against my skin.
What am I going to do?
The question had no answer.
I started the engine.
There were still places left to try.
By the time I picked Audrey up from school, my shoulders felt heavier than they had that morning. Each rejection had added another weight, another stone in the bag I carried everywhere.
But then I saw her face bright and hopeful and I forced a smile.
"Guess what?"
"What?"
"I drew a dragon!"
"A dragon?"
"It guards castles."
I glanced at her in the rearview mirror.
"Sounds pretty important."
"It is."
She proudly pulled the drawing from her backpack, holding it up for me to see. It was a colorful, messy creation with sharp teeth, wings that looked more like clouds, and a long, wiggly tail.
I smiled.
"It looks amazing."
She beamed, and for a moment, the weight on my shoulders felt a little lighter.
That evening, after Audrey had fallen asleep on the couch watching Katseye music videos, I carried her to bed.
She wrapped her arms around my neck without waking, her small body warm and trusting. Her head rested against my shoulder, her breath slow and even.
"You got heavy," I whispered with a smile.
I laid her down gently, pulling the covers up to her chin. She stirred slightly, mumbling something about dragons and castles, before settling back into sleep.
After tucking her in, I sat back down at the kitchen table with my laptop.
Another job application.
Another résumé.
Another chance.
The screen glowed in the dim light as I typed, my fingers moving automatically. Name. Address. Experience. References. I'd filled out so many applications in the past few days that I could do it in my sleep.
My phone buzzed.
I frowned.
Rick Dawson.
My old foreman.
I hesitated, then answered.
"Hello?"
"Hey, L/N."
"Hey."
"I heard you've been looking."
I paused.
"Yeah."
There was a brief pause on his end the sound of him clearing his throat.
"I can't get your old job back."
"I figured."
"But..."
He paused again, and I could hear him exhale.
"My cousin works security. They're looking for people. I told him about you, and he said they need dependable workers."
I sat up straighter.
"Security?"
"Yeah. Some private firm. They do a lot of high-profile stuff."
"I've never done security."
"They'll train you. My cousin said they're willing to take people with the right attitude."
I grabbed a pen from the table.
"What's the company?"
Rick gave me the information—a name I didn't recognize, a website I'd never visited.
"It pays better than construction."
That caught my attention.
"...Really?"
"Yeah. He said they take care of their people."
I wrote down every word.
"I appreciate it, Rick. Really."
"No problem. I know things are tough right now. Figured I'd try to help."
We said our goodbyes, and I hung up.
I immediately searched for the company online.
The website was sleek and professional. Photos of well-dressed guards standing in front of modern buildings. Testimonials from satisfied clients. A page dedicated to career opportunities.
One listing stood out.
Security Officer
Professional security firm seeking dedicated individuals for a high-profile assignment.
Full-time position with competitive pay.
Travel required.
Experience preferred but not required.
I didn't hesitate.
I clicked "Apply Now" and started filling out the form.
Name: Y/N L/N.
Experience: Five years in construction.
Availability: Immediate.
Why do you want to work for us?
I stared at the question for a long moment.
I need to provide for my daughter. I need a chance. I need to be someone she can be proud of.
I typed the words, then deleted them.
I typed something more professional.
Then I hit submit.
When I finally closed my laptop, it was nearly midnight. The apartment was silent except for the hum of the refrigerator and the distant sound of traffic outside.
I whispered to myself,
"Please let this be the one."
Few days later
The routine continued.
Wake up.
Make breakfast.
Pack lunches.
Drop Audrey off.
Search for work.
Pick Audrey up.
Make dinner.
Read bedtime stories.
Repeat.
Some companies finally responded.
"Thank you for applying, but we've chosen another candidate."
Another email.
Another rejection.
Another.
And another.
I deleted them one by one.
Each one stung a little more than the last.
The weight on my shoulders grew heavier with every passing day. My savings account dwindled. My confidence frayed. Every morning, I woke up wondering if this would be the day I finally broke.
But I couldn't break.
I had Audrey.
Something else had changed.
Audrey.
She wasn't herself anymore.
She still smiled. But not as much.
She talked less in the truck, her voice quieter than usual.
She stopped singing every Katseye song all the way home. Instead, she stared quietly out the window, holding her sketchbook close to her chest like a shield.
Every afternoon, I noticed it.
Every afternoon, I wondered why.
She'd always been such a happy child. Full of laughter and energy and endless questions. But lately, the laughter had faded. The energy had dimmed. The questions had stopped.
I told myself it was just a phase.
But I wasn't sure I believed it.
One evening, halfway home, I finally asked.
"You okay, baby?"
"I'm fine."
"You've been awfully quiet lately."
She shrugged, still staring out the window.
"I'm just tired."
I glanced at her in the rearview mirror, trying to catch her eyes.
"You sure?"
"I said I'm fine."
Her voice was sharper than usual.
I let it go.
But I didn't stop worrying.
When we got home, I tried again while helping unpack her backpack. I pulled out her lunchbox, her water bottle, her folder of schoolwork.
"Did something happen at school today?"
She froze.
For just a second.
Then—
"No!"
The word echoed through the apartment, sharp and sudden.
"I said nothing happened!"
I blinked, taken aback.
"Audrey—"
"Just stop asking!"
Tears filled her eyes, her lower lip trembling.
"Just stop!"
Before I could say anything, she grabbed her sketchbook and ran to her bedroom.
Her bedroom door slammed shut.
Silence filled the apartment.
I stood in the hallway, completely stunned. The echo of the slam still rang in my ears. Audrey had never yelled at me before. Not once. Not like that.
I slowly sat down on the couch, my hands resting on my knees.
An hour later, my laptop chimed with a new email.
I almost ignored it. I was too tired, too drained to care about another rejection. But something made me glance at the screen.
The sender caught my attention.
HYBE x Geffen.
I quickly clicked it open.
Dear Y/N L/N,
Thank you for your application to join our security team.
We were impressed with your background and would like to invite you to interview for the position of Security Officer.
Please arrive at our downtown office tomorrow at 9:00 a.m. Bring any required identification and work documents.
We look forward to meeting you.
Sincerely,
Human Resources Department
I read it twice.
Then a third time.
They wanted an interview.
A real interview.
I let out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding.
For the first time in days, I smiled.
Maybe this was the break I'd been praying for.
The apartment had gone quiet.
I gently knocked on Audrey's bedroom door.
"Baby?"
No answer.
I cracked it open, peering inside.
She was curled beneath her blankets, hugging her stuffed bunny. Her eyes were red, her cheeks still damp with tears. She looked so small in that bed, so fragile.
I quietly sat on the edge of the mattress.
Neither of us spoke for a long moment.
Then a tiny voice broke the silence.
"I'm sorry."
I looked down at her.
"You don't have to apologize for having big feelings."
She started crying again, her small body trembling.
"I yelled at you."
"You did."
"I'm really sorry."
I opened my arms.
Without hesitation, she climbed into my lap and buried her face against my chest. I wrapped both arms around her, holding her as close as I could. She cried so hard her little shoulders shook, her fists gripping my shirt.
"It's okay."
"I'm sorry..."
"I know."
"I didn't mean it..."
"I know."
She held onto me tightly, her fingers curling into the fabric.
"I love you, Mommy."
My own eyes burned.
"I love you too, sweetheart."
She sniffled.
"I love you three thousand."
I kissed the top of her head, breathing in the scent of her strawberry shampoo.
"I love you three thousand and one."
A tiny laugh escaped through her tears. It wasn't much, but it was enough. It was everything.
As I held her close, I made a silent promise.
Whatever she was carrying whatever hurt she couldn't tell me about I'd figure it out. Just like everything else.
I had to.
She was counting on me.
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sorry for the long wait guys but it finally happening.
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