In the past two months, she had been to a dozen interviews. Two degrees, some solid work experience, and still nothing. Only one company had bothered to call back, just to say she was not a fit.
Each rejection chipped away at her hope, replaced by growing panic. But she could not let fear win. She had to stay calm for Tessa.
Fifteen minutes later, Valerie was on a bus, headed for the train station. Another ten minutes, and she switched trains to head toward the city center. The office was downtown, a trek that did not faze her. She would sacrifice hours for a chance to provide for her daughter.
No trust fund, no rich relatives, just her own hustle. Checking her watch, she relaxed slightly. She had enough time to grab a quick drink before the interview. Coffee was out, as it would make her too jittery. Tea would do.
On the train, Valerie double-checked her bag. Resume, references, ID—everything was there. She sighed, glancing at the other passengers. They seemed so carefree, scrolling on their phones, not sweating a make-or-break interview.
Half an hour later, she stepped off at the station and spotted the sleek office building across the street. With thirty minutes to spare, she ducked into a nearby coffee shop. Ordering a chamomile tea, she settled at a corner table and stared out the window.
Chicago pulsed with energy—honking cabs, rushing pedestrians, a city that did not seem to care about her struggles. In her few months here, she had learned one thing: nobody hands you anything. Except Zoe. Thank God for Zoe.
Sipping her tea, Valerie rehearsed her pitch. She would mention her top performer bonuses from her old job at a Peoria grocery chain and the extra incentives she had earned for smashing sales goals. Those had to count for something.
She opened her eyes, glancing outside, when something caught her attention. Across the street, on a sweltering August afternoon with the humid air thick and heavy, an older man clutched his chest and slumped against a brick wall.
Without hesitation, Valerie tossed a few dollars on the table and bolted out of the café. Dodging traffic, she reached the man, who was clearly in distress. Passersby kept walking, not even glancing his way. Valerie’s heart sank at the city’s indifference.
“Hey, are you okay?” she asked, kneeling beside him.
He groaned softly, clutching a manila folder. She gently set it aside and loosened his tie. Grabbing a water bottle from her bag, she held it to his lips. The August heat was brutal, the pavement radiating warmth. No wonder he had collapsed.
“Pills… in my briefcase,” he rasped.
Valerie rifled through his leather bag, her hands shaking, until she found a small orange prescription bottle. She fumbled with the cap, handed him two pills, but they slipped from his trembling fingers onto the sidewalk.
“Hold on,” she said, grabbing two more.
Carefully, she placed them under his tongue, holding his jaw steady. She could not believe nobody had stopped to help. A man was in serious trouble, and the world just kept moving.
“Should I call 911?” she asked, holding up her phone.
He shook his head, eyes closed. Valerie’s stomach knotted. What if something terrible happened right here? But slowly, his breathing steadied, and color returned to his face.
When he could move, she helped him to a nearby bus stop bench. He pulled out a handkerchief, wiped his brow, and slipped another pill under his tongue.
“Feeling better?” she asked.
“Much,” he said, managing a weak smile. “I am Stephen.”
He extended a hand, his grip surprisingly firm for someone who had just collapsed.
“Valerie,” she replied, shaking his hand. “Glad I could help.”
Glancing at her watch, her heart sank. She had missed her interview.
“You missed something because of me, didn’t you?” Stephen asked, noticing her frown.
“It is fine,” she said, forcing a smile. “Helping you was more important.”
“You saved my life,” he said earnestly. “I owe you. Can I call my driver? He can take you wherever you need to go.”
“No, thanks,” she said. “I will manage.”
She exhaled, relieved he was okay. Work would come.
“What happened out there?” she asked, sitting beside him. “Was it your heart?”
“Something like that,” Stephen said, his eyes distant. “It is… the anniversary of my son’s passing. Hits me hard every year.”
“I am so sorry,” Valerie said, her voice soft. She struggled to find words for such grief. “Do you have grandkids to lean on?”
“Not really,” he said curtly, then softened. “I am seventy-four. I know any day could be my last. I am at peace with it.”
Valerie shivered, unsure how to respond. They sat in silence until Stephen called his driver. As his car pulled away, Valerie dialed the company she had missed.
“Sorry, we are swamped,” a woman’s voice snapped. “The boss is dealing with a crisis. Can we reschedule for the day after tomorrow?”
Valerie nearly laughed with relief. A second chance! Maybe even the big shots had their own drama. Back home, she hugged Tessa and suggested a park playdate with Parker near Buckingham Fountain. Zoe was thrilled.
“Perfect!” Zoe clapped. “I can finally get my nails done. Parker has been sick, so I have been stuck. You are the best!”
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