Maya's POV
The words played in my head.
"I will pay for you to go back to school. I will give you money. A nice house. Clothes. Everything."
For three days, Alexander's cold voice lived inside me. It followed me to sleep. It followed me when I woke up. When I drank tea, his offer was there. A strange, dark door in my broken life.
"Maya… Maya!"
My mother's voice pulled me back. I was standing in our small kitchen holding an empty cup. I had been staring at the wall.
"Oh. Sorry, Mama." My voice sounded flat.
She came closer. She touched my arm. Her hands, warm from work, felt real.
"My child," she said softly. "I know your heart is heavy. But you will get over Daniel. You gave him five years. But you are strong. You will be fine."
I tried to smile. It felt stiff on my face. "Yes, Mama. I will be fine."
She looked past me to the kitchen shelves. They were almost bare. A half-bag of rice. A tin of old tea.
"We have almost nothing left," she said, a simple fact. "The money from your last job is finished. My salary is still four days away."
A hot shame moved through my chest. I was twenty-six. I should take care of her.
"Don't worry," I said. "I have a little money left. I'll go to the store later."
I picked up my phone. It was a mistake.
Pictures filled the screen. Daniel and Chloe. Their wedding. A big wedding at a hotel. Chloe wore a sparkling white dress, her smile wide, one hand on her round stomach. Daniel looked at her like she was the sun.
The caption read: A new beginning.
My heart beat in a painful rhythm. I put the phone down, screen against the table.
How foolish I had been. All those years, I believed Daniel saw me. The one who helped him study, who cooked his meals. But he never saw that. He only saw what I was not. I was not a university graduate. I was not sophisticated.
I was just Maya. The girl who didn't finish school.
I looked at my mother, quietly wiping the counter. I remembered her story. My father left when I was six. He said the life was too hard. My mother never complained. She took a night job cleaning. She came home at dawn, her eyes red, but she always kissed my forehead. She taught me that your word and your work mean more than any title.
And what did I have to show? No degree. No career. No love. Just a heart that felt like a heavy stone and a kitchen with nothing to eat.
"I'm going to the store now, Mama."
---
The grocery store was too bright. The lights hurt my eyes. I held a small plastic basket, counting coins in my mind.
Rice. Eggs. The cheap bread. Milk.
Then, I saw her.
Chloe. She was by the fruits, holding a full basket. I saw expensive things—Greek yogurt, imported berries. She looked peaceful in a soft pink dress.
She saw me. A slow smile spread across her face. She walked toward me. I wanted to turn away, but my feet were stuck.
"Maya! What a small world," she said. Her voice was sweet, but her eyes were sharp. "How are you? Daniel said you've been keeping to yourself."
"I'm fine," I whispered.
"I'm glad." She shifted her basket. "Daniel and I moved into our new apartment. It's lovely. Big windows. A view of the park. Perfect for the baby."
I said nothing.
"Oh, but of course," she said. "You know about dreaming of a nice home. That little house you and Daniel built. So sweet."
The mention of the house was a physical ache. "Yes."
"Well," she said, leaning closer. Her perfume was strong. "We sold it. Last week. Daniel said it was too small for our new life. We got a good price."
The world tilted. "You sold it?"
"Of course," she said. "It's just a house, Maya. We need the money for the baby's future. You understand, don't you? A mother does what she must."
I felt the walls close in. That house. We saved for three years. We skipped meals. We spent weekends choosing paint, planting a lemon tree. It was our dream. And he sold it. He erased it for cash, for her.
The final thread of hope inside me snapped.
Chloe's eyes dropped to my basket. She saw the few, cheap items. A sad, pretend pity touched her face.
"Take care, Maya," she said, her voice soft and deadly. "Maybe one day, you'll have nice things too."
She turned and walked away.
I stood there, unable to move. My basket fell from my hand. I didn't pick it up. I walked out of the store, into the afternoon air. I bought nothing.
---
The walk home was a blur. Grey streets, grey sky. I felt grey inside.
When I walked in, I went straight to my room. My mother called, "Maya? Did you get the food?" I didn't answer.
I closed my door and sat on my bed. My whole body was cold. I opened my nightstand drawer. Under old letters, I found it.
The business card. Black, smooth, heavy.
ALEXANDER THORNE.
CHIEF EXECUTIVE OFFICER.
A phone number.
My hands shook. I held the card tight.
I needed money. Not just for food, but for power. To never be looked at like that again. To never have my dreams sold. To become someone who could not be broken.
I picked up my phone. My finger trembled as I typed the number.
I saw Daniel's cold eyes at the altar. I heard Chloe's cruel voice. I saw my mother's tired smile. I saw our empty shelves. I saw the lemon tree in the yard of a house that was no longer mine.
I pressed the call button.
It rang. One tone. Then another.
A voice answered. Deep. Calm. Empty. "Alexander Thorne speaking."
For a second, I couldn't breathe. Then, my own voice came, quiet but clear. "Hello. This is Maya. The woman from the bar."
A pause. "Yes."
I closed my eyes. The last image was the For Sale sign in the front lawn of my dream.
I took the deepest breath of my life.
"I thought about your offer," I said.
"And?" His voice was like stone.
"I'm ready."