Lydia's POV
I got home that day, and I noticed Zoey's door was closed. I was grateful she was sleeping. At least she wouldn't see my swollen and red eyes and suspect something was wrong or wonder why I was home this early.
"You are back early," Miss Beatrice said, standing behind me like a guard.
I stood there not knowing if I should turn and answer her or not. My head was pounding, and my chest felt too heavy, as though the weight of the day had followed me home.
"I lost my job," I said quietly.
"Of course you did." Miss Beatrice let out a laugh as if she'd been expecting that all along.
Her words stung more than I wanted to admit. I looked at her, really looked at her, standing there in my mother's house, wearing comfort as if it belonged to her. The same house that my mother had filled with warmth and patience—things Miss Beatrice had never learned how to carry.
She walked closer, staring me in the eyes. "You can't keep living like this. You're always bringing problems into this house," she continued. "Hospital bills, missed work, and now no job?"
"I don't know how you want to go about it, but you must get another job by tomorrow," she continued, rolling her eyes and stepping into the room fully.
I clenched my fists, my palms holding each other tight as though I was pleading for help. "My daughter is sick," I said, my voice trembling despite my effort to stay calm. "I'm doing everything I can."
She sighed, as if my pain were an inconvenience. "Doing everything you can isn't enough, Lydia. Look at your mates out there, doing what they're supposed to do."
Something cold dropped in my stomach. The way she said my name told me this conversation wasn't going to end well.
I went back to Zoey's room. I didn't want to wake her up, so I didn't turn on the light.
She moved her body softly, holding her pillow tight. My heart tightened instantly. I moved closer, lowering myself onto the floor beside her bed.
"Please be okay," I whispered, so softly that even her pillows couldn't hear me.
I stared at her cute face in the dim light, realizing how beautiful and peaceful she was, the way her lips parted slightly when she breathed. She looked too peaceful for the type of battle she was fighting.
A wave of guilt washed over me, heavy and sudden. I wondered if I was doing enough or failing her without realizing it. If loving her was enough when the world kept demanding more than I had.
I stayed there longer than I should have. Immediately, reality tugged at me again. Bills. Medication. Work. Tomorrow.
I stepped out and closed the door gently, resting my body against the wall for a few seconds before walking away.
I sat on my bed and stared at my phone. I hated how small it looked in my hand, like something I was holding onto just to survive. I didn't want to ask anyone for help. I didn't want pity. I just needed work, honest work that would keep my daughter alive.
I opened my browser, hoping to find something I didn't keep there. I thought of all the times I'd told myself I could manage, that I didn't need anyone.
Jobs.
Work from home.
Shifts.
The screen filled with listings, and my chest tightened. Hours I couldn't commit to because of Zoey's health. Requirements I didn't meet. Pay that couldn't stretch far enough. I scrolled on.
There must be something for me. I swallowed hard while sitting up. I don't get to be afraid, not now that Zoey is counting on me without even knowing it.
I kept scrolling.
Because somewhere out there, on some page, under some ordinary listing, had to be a job for me. And until I found it, I wasn't allowed to stop.