One quiet afternoon, Elara sat beside her mother, helping her sort through a few things around the house. The day was calm, almost too calm, when her mother suddenly spoke.
"Elara," she said with a small smile, "it seems luck may finally be turning around for us. Can you guess what I heard today?"
Elara looked up. "Guess what? Is it good news?"
Her mother nodded. "Mr. Donalds has bought a large company here in the city."
Elara frowned slightly. "How does that concern me?"
Her mother chuckled. "He's the same man whose scholarship you won during school."
Elara froze. "That Mr. Donalds?" she asked in disbelief. "Wow... I didn't know." Then doubt crept in. "But Mama, are you sure he would employ me?"
Her mother took her hand gently. "You already have an advantage. His goal has always been to help graduates from this city. He lived here before moving away with his family, and now his son is the CEO of the company."
Elara exhaled slowly. "I'll apply. Hopefully, my luck shines." After a pause, she added softly, "But what about my health? Won't it affect my chances?"
Her mother shook her head firmly. "Don't worry. I have a strong feeling about this."
Two days later, the entire city buzzed with news. Mr. Donalds was employing graduates, and the pay was more than generous.
That morning, Elara prepared quietly in her room. Please, she prayed inwardly, let my sickness not stand in my way.
Before she left, her mother held her hands and prayed for her, her voice steady with faith.
Elara arrived at the company dressed neatly and professionally. She looked simple, elegant, and composed. At the reception, many applicants waited anxiously. When Elara stepped in, several heads turned. There was something about her presence: calm, confident, unforced.
She didn't wait long. The receptionist confirmed her earlier application and immediately directed her to the interview room.
The moment Elara entered, Mr. Donalds looked up from the stack of applications on his desk. His breath caught for just a second. The young woman standing before him had her hands clasped lightly in front of her, her posture straight but not rigid. There was something in the way she held her chin, the set of her shoulders, that pulled at something deep in his chest. It reminded him of someone, though he couldn't say who. Perhaps his own mother in old photographs. Perhaps no one at all. He shook his head slightly and gestured to the seat across from him.
Beside him sat his son, Eric Donalds, young, confident, and composed. He had grown up with wealth, respect, and privilege. Luxury meant little to him. People admired him, followed him, flattered him, yet none of it impressed him anymore. He'd learned to see through performance.
When Elara's eyes briefly met his, something shifted. She looked away quickly, professional and reserved. Eric didn't. For the first time in years, he found himself genuinely curious about someone.
The interview began. Mr. Donalds scanned Elara's CV and paused. "These results are exceptional," he said. "Very impressive."
Elara answered every question calmly and clearly, her responses thoughtful and precise.
Mr. Donalds looked at her again, this time with a slight smile. "You were a beneficiary of my scholarship program," he said thoughtfully. "It seems life has brought us back together."
Eric leaned forward. "What department did you study?" he asked. "And where would you prefer to be posted?"
She answered, then he added, "And your expected salary?"
Elara responded honestly, though her heart raced. She was hopeful, but uneasy. They hadn't mentioned her health condition.
Should I say something? she wondered, her palms damp.
She took a breath, about to speak, when there was a sharp knock at the door. A staff member entered quickly.
"Mr. Donalds, I'm sorry to interrupt, but the regional director is on the line. He says it's urgent."
Mr. Donalds sighed and stood. "Please excuse me for just a moment, Miss Bennett."
Eric gave her an apologetic smile. "We'll just be a minute."
They stepped to the corner of the room, speaking in low tones. Elara sat frozen, her prepared words stuck in her throat. By the time they returned, Mr. Donalds was already smiling.
"My apologies for that interruption. Now, where were we?" He glanced at her file again. "Ah yes. Miss Bennett, we're very impressed with your qualifications. When can you start?"
The moment had passed. Elara's courage faltered, and she found herself simply nodding, relief and guilt mixing in her chest.
After Elara left, Eric remained seated, staring at the closed door. He had interviewed dozens of candidates that week: polished, ambitious, well connected. None of them had stayed with him like this.
It wasn't just her intelligence, though that was evident. It was her quiet dignity. The way she didn't try to charm or perform. She simply was. And somehow, that humbled him.
Elara walked home with light steps, happiness glowing on her face. Anyone who saw her could tell something good had happened.
At home, her mother knew immediately. "You don't need to say anything," she said warmly. "Your face tells me everything."
Elara smiled. "It went well, Mama. Really well."
Her mother hugged her tightly. "I told you. This is just the beginning."
That evening, at the Donalds' estate, Mr. Donalds sat across from his wife in their spacious living room.
"There's a young woman we employed today," he said quietly. "Brilliant. Disciplined. She even benefited from my scholarship years ago."
He paused, his brow furrowing. "When she walked into the room, I felt something. Like I should know her. The way she carried herself, the way she spoke. It reminded me of..." He trailed off, unable to finish the thought. "I can't explain it."
His wife looked up sharply, her teacup frozen halfway to her lips. "Reminded you of what?"
"I don't know," he said, shaking his head slowly. "Maybe it's nothing. Just... something about her."
She forced a calm smile. "You meet so many people, darling. I'm sure it's just coincidence."
But her hand trembled slightly as she set down her cup.
Some secrets don't stay buried forever.
And when they rise, they change lives.