I walked into the building, heart racing, thinking this was the start of something big. My dream job. My chance. I had worked my whole life for this. But when I stepped into the interview room and saw who was sitting across from me… my stomach twisted into knots.
No. No way.
The last person I ever wanted to see again in my life was right there, looking up at me like she belonged there.
It was her.
My mother.
The woman who had ruined everything.
Let me back up.
When I was a little girl, I dreamed of being an architect, just like my dad. He used to sit with me and help me draw. He showed me how to shade buildings, how to sketch staircases and doors. He was my hero.
He supported me every step of the way—from messy crayon doodles to my final university exams. But just a few months before I graduated, he died. Suddenly. And with him, a huge piece of me disappeared too.
He never got to see me wear that cap and gown. Never saw the proud moment I had worked so hard for. But I kept going—for him. Every pencil I held, every model I built, I did it in his memory.
Now I had moved back to my hometown—the place filled with memories I had been running from for seven years. I came back for one reason only: to work at the company my dad had worked for. The company that had inspired me since I was little.
I rented a small apartment nearby, close enough to walk to the office. As I unpacked, I found a photo of me and Dad—me at six, holding a ruler while he laughed. I placed it gently on the shelf.
That night, I couldn’t sleep. My nerves were on fire. I kept unpacking until I passed out on the floor.
I woke up with a start and looked at the clock. Two hours until the interview. I breathed a sigh of relief, pulled myself together, ate breakfast slowly, and got dressed with care. I was ready.
Or so I thought.
The building felt familiar. I used to visit Dad here, running through the hallways, waving at the security guard who used to sneak me candy.
I sat outside the interview room, hands trembling. Other candidates were sitting too—some in suits, others in jeans—but all of them looked more confident than me.
That’s when I heard my dad’s voice in my head:
“Remember, you’re better than anyone who stands in your way. Believe in my belief in you.”
I took a deep breath. Then a man walked out of the office, looking defeated. And then I heard someone call my name.
The voice—it made my skin crawl. No. That couldn’t be right. Could it?
I stepped into the room and froze.
“Linda?! What are you doing here?!” I shouted, stunned.
She looked up, startled. “Kassandra…”
“I thought it was just someone with the same name,” she said quietly.
“I’ll ask again,” I said, clenching my fists, “What. Are. You. Doing. Here?”
“I work here,” she replied, barely above a whisper.
My heart pounded. Anger exploded out of me.
“How dare you?! How dare you work here—in the building where he once worked?!”
“Kassandra, please,” she said, glancing at the door. “Close it. People are watching.”
“I want them to see!” I shouted. “Let them see what kind of person this company hires!”
“Can we just talk?” she pleaded. “At least let me do the interview.”
“Interview? You want to sit there and ask me questions like you’re not the woman who ruined everything? You killed him!”
“I didn’t kill anyone! He had a heart attack!”
“Because of you! He died alone while you were cheating on him!”
Her face tightened. “That man is my husband now. I’d appreciate if you don’t—”
“You think that makes it better?!” I shouted. “You shouldn’t even be in this building!”
“It’s just a job, Kassandra,” she said.
“No. It’s his job. This was his place!”
“Why am I not in jail then, if I killed him?” she snapped.
“Because life’s unfair!” I replied. “And you don’t have an ounce of guilt in you.”
“If you’d let me explain—”
“You don’t deserve to explain anything!”
“I’m not even an architect. I’m in HR,” she said, almost desperate now.
“Doesn’t matter. You shouldn’t be here!”
“Your father would have wanted—”
“Don’t you dare talk about what he wanted! You destroyed him with your lies and betrayal!”
A man poked his head in.
“Linda, do I need to call security?”
“Don’t bother,” I said, standing up. “I’ll go on my own.”
I stormed out of the building, tears already falling. By the time I got to my car, I was sobbing. My chest hurt. My head pounded.
How could she do this to me again?
Memories flooded back—being in my dorm, studying for exams, when I got her call:
“Kassandra… your father’s gone.”
And then learning later that while he was dying, she was in a hotel… with someone else. I had screamed at her, told her she was a monster. I never went back home after the funeral. Never spoke to her again.
And now here she was, sitting in his office chair.
I drove back to my apartment, barely aware of how I got there. I paced the room, back and forth, shaking. I couldn’t work there. I couldn’t be near her.
Just as the sky turned dark, there was a knock on the door.
I opened it—and saw her.
SLAM.
“Kassandra, please. Let’s talk,” she said through the door.
“I have nothing to say to you!”
“I found your address. I’m HR, remember?” she said. “And… you got the job.”
I blinked. “How can I get hired without an interview?”
“Because I know what you’re capable of. You’re the best applicant,” she said.
“I don’t want your charity!”
“Just take the offer.”
“I’m not working there. Take it back!” I shouted.
I was about to walk away when she said,
“Are you really going to give up your lifelong dream?”
I flung the door open. “What do you know about my dreams?!”
“I’m your mother. I raised you. I am your family.”
“Then why weren’t you acting like family when you were cheating while Dad was dying?!”
“We were getting divorced!” she yelled back.
I laughed bitterly. “Now you’re trying to blame him?”
“No! We had been living separately for three months. I just came to the house when you were there. Your dad and I agreed not to tell you.”
“You had the perfect relationship,” I said angrily.
She shook her head. “He cheated on me—with a younger colleague. That was the final straw. But things had been falling apart long before.”
“You’re lying!”
She reached into her bag and pulled out papers. Divorce papers. Dated four months before he died.
I stared at them.
“No… this isn’t real,” I whispered.
“We protected you. We didn’t want to ruin your image of him. But you’re old enough to hear the truth.”
I dropped to the floor, clutching the papers. My whole world spun.
“Your father loved you more than anything. And so did I. But I’m tired of being the only villain.”
“You should’ve told me,” I said softly.
“Parents always try to protect their kids,” she replied. “And you didn’t want to listen back then.”
“I’m sorry.”
She sat down beside me on the floor.
“The job offer still stands. If you want it.”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
She looked at me carefully. “You never stayed at any job longer than four months.”
I shrugged. “I didn’t like the conditions.”
She smiled a little. “You know, I always thought this was more his dream than yours.”
I thought about that. Drawing with him was fun. It brought us close. Maybe I chased this dream because I wanted more time with him. Maybe I was still chasing it, hoping to feel that connection again.
“So?” Linda asked. “Should I wait for your signature?”
I hesitated, then finally said, “Maybe I should think about it.”
She stood up. “Okay. Then… goodbye.”
I looked up at her, my voice soft.
“Thank you… Mom.”
