The café smelled like roasted coffee and quiet exhaustion.

I adjusted my apron for what felt like the third time that morning, I forced

my shoulders to relax. My shift had hardly begun yet I felt something already felt off.

"Table seven” my co-worker whispered, “he’s been waiting”.

I nodded and picked up a tray. The man doesn’t look at me when I arrive.

“Your coffee, sir” I say as I place the cup gently in front of him, aligning the

saucer the way I had been taught to, neat, precise, and careful.

I noticed his eyes dropped towards the cup, then a frown

“Is this how you serve people?” he asked quietly

“I’m sorry?” I say in surprise

“The spoon”. He tapped the cup with one finger. “Do you not know basic

service etiquette?”

My chest tightened “I apologize, sir, let me fix that…..”

The movement was so sudden, the cup tipped

A sharp gasp escaped my lips as the coffee splashed against my wrist and

apron, seeping through the fabric.

For a second everything froze, I could hear the murmurs rising,

“You people never listen” the man muttered, loud enough for others to

hear. “Always pretending you understand when you clearly don’t belong

here”.

My fingers trembled, but I clenched them into my apron.

“Sir” I said with my voice steadier than how I feel “with due respect, I

apologized. You didn’t have to throw the coffee.”

That got his attention, his head snapped up, and eyes cold

“Oh?” he said “and now you’re talking back?”

A few customer turned. I swallowed, my heart pounding in my ears.

“I’m just asking for basic respect”

“That’s enough” my boss stepped in before the man could respond, his

tone calm, but firm.

“Sir, I sincerely apologize for the inconvenience. Your order is on the

house”.

The man scoffed but stood, grabbing the takeaway cup handed to him.

I wiped my hands with a paper towel, though they still felt sticky, warm and

unclean. My chest rose and fell slowly as I walked towards the office.

I already knew, still I knocked, this was the third time this week such events

has taken place amidst different occasions

“Come in”

He didn’t meet her eyes this time.

“I’m really sorry about what happened”, he began

I said nothing

“But…I can’t ignore this anymore. That’s the third customer this week.”

My throat tightened. “Is it because of me? “I asked softly

“Or because of what I look like?”

He hesitated and that answer was enough

“I’ve done everything right.” I continued my voice barely holding” so why

am I the problem?”

He sighed, running a hand through his receding hair. “If this keeps

happening, I lose customer. If I lose customers, I lose business.”

“I have to let you go”. The words landed heavier than the coffee ever could.

“You’ll receive your full months’ pay,” he added “I truly am sorry.”

I nodded slowly, not because I accepted it but because I had no choice.

Outside, the sun was too bright, too normal. I stepped onto the street, the

noise of the city swallowing me whole.

For a moment, I just stood there, jobless, tired, and burning in ways no one

could see. And somehow, I felt it, that this was only the beginning.

I wasn’t supposed to be home this early. The door creaked open anyway.

“Zinny?” sommie, one of zinny’s best friend, voice came first, sharp with

concern,” why are you back? Did something happen? Are you sick?”

Becky, also zinny’s best friend, doesn’t look up immediately. She sat by the

window, one leg crossed over the other, lazily holding a cigarette between

her fingers. The smoke curled upwards like it had nowhere to be.

Then she noticed zinny’s face, “…okay, that’s not a ‘good day at work’ face”

I dropped my bag. “I got fired”. Even Becky straightened

"What?” sommie rushed over “why?” I let out a breathe that felt like it had

been trapped in my chest all day.

“A customer threw coffee at me.” Becky blinked “...I’m sorry, he did what?”

I gave a tired laugh, “apparently the spoon was facing the wrong direction”

“That’s not a reason, that’s a personality disorder”, Becky muttered.

Sommie shot her a look “Becky”. “What? I’m serious. Who wakes up angry

at cutlery?”

I smiled faintly but it didn’t last. “He said I didn’t belong here.” That settled

the room

Becky slowly put out her cigarette. Sommie’s voice softened. “Zinny...”

“But its fine,” I said quickly, almost too quickly “I’ll figure something out”

because I always did, that was the problem.

After a shower and a change of clothes, I stepped outside. The air felt

different, like the world had moved on without asking for her permission.

I walked without direction, my thoughts louder than the traffic around her.

No job, mums medication, rent, student loan. My chest tightened. “I’ll

figure this out” she whispered to herself, she had to.

That’s when I saw it, a tall building stood ahead, glass, polished,

intimidating.

Wilson hotel and suites. My eyes caught a banner near the entrance “now

hiring: part-time receptionist. I paused, “...Receptionist?”

Her heart gave a small, uncertain beat. I pulled out her phone and took a

picture of the banner.

Later that night, I sat cross-legged on her bed, scrolling. “Luxury brand,

multiple branches, good pay...” my brows furrowed, “this place is... big”

Sommie peeked over my shoulder, “then apply.”

Becky leaned against the doorframe. “The worst case? They reject you. Best

case? You start wearing expensive perfumes and judging people silently.” I rolled my eyes, still... I clicked apply.

The next day

I adjusted her outfit for what felt like the hundredth time.

The lobby of Wilson hotel and suited was everything I expected, and worse,

clean, elegant, filled with people who looked like they belonged, unlike her.

I scanned the room, then noticed it. I was the only black woman there. My

fingers tightened slightly around my file. “Its fine” I told myself “just focus”

A woman walked out from the interview room.

Next.

“Are you sure you’re in the right solace” a voice slid in smoothly as I stood. I

turned, a woman, perfect hair, sharp smile, and sharper eyes.

I held my gaze, “excuse me?” the woman tilted her head, and “this isn’t an

entry-level environment.”

Becky would’ve had a field day with that sentence. I inhaled slowly “I’m

aware.” “Good. Just making sure we’re all… competing fairly.”

I almost smiled. “Don’t worry,” I said calmly, “if I get the job, it won’t be by

accident.” That seemed to hit a nerve.

Before she could respond... “That’s enough.” The voice wasn’t loud but it

carried, the entire room shifted.

I turned and saw him, Seth Wilson, the CEO and heir of Wilson hotel and

suites. He walked in like he didn’t need to prove anything, and didn’t care

to, composed, observant. His suit fit him perfectly, resting neatly against a

sleek, muscular frame that looked refined rather than intimidating. The

dark suit contrasted against his fair tanned skin, making sharp angles of his

jaw stand out beneath his neatly trimmed beard that framed his face.

But his eyes caught me off guard. Green, deep, unreadable green.

His thick brown hair was slightly out of place despite the polished

appearance, which kept from looking almost inapproachable.

His eyes moved from the woman to me, then back.

“We maintain professionalism here,” he said calmly “or we don’t stay.”

The woman straightened immediately “of course.”

Silence followed. Seth turned slightly “next applicant."

I blinked “oh...” “That’s you” he said. Our eyes met briefly, something

unreadable passed between us.

“Come with me.”