CHAPTER 42: CHAPTER-42. (HIGHLIGHTS OF ACCOMPLISHMENTS).

If you were expecting to read a great interview session between me and Marian, the head of talent scouting.

Yes, the one who sent the mail to me. You all must probably think that I would walk into the room and get the deal. Somewhere, my wild imagination also thought of this.

Walking into the room, I was greeted by her. We had a really great talk, and she offered me a job with them, in return for which they would reward me with millions of dollars.

After taking the money, I might have gone on a long vacation from Dave and his drama.

The dream which I thought was too good but sorry to break the news, but it went horribly wrong.

First off, Marian didn’t even have much time to do a proper one-on-one, so the meeting was collective.

And that’s where Grace came in. Oh yes, Grace Davis, the human highlight reel of accomplishments, awards, and perfect violet hair.

While I was trying to carefully explain my little fictional world, she was talking about working with directors I couldn’t even name, awards I hadn’t heard of, and collaborations that made my soul want to crawl under the table.

I tried, really, I did. I cleared my throat, I smiled, I even threw in a couple of my "wow, amazing" sentences.

But let’s be honest, compared to Grace, my work looked like a coloring book page in the middle of a gallery of Van Goghs.

Every compliment Marian gave her felt like a punch in my gut. Every nod, every smile, every ’that’s really impressive’ aimed at Grace reminded me that here I was, a girl writing small stories at home, completely out of my league.

By the time the meeting ended, I wanted to disappear. Not like oh, I’ll sneak out quietly, but full-on vanish into the floor and never come back.

I scolded myself in my head the entire ride home.

Why did you think you could even survive this?

Why did you agree to this?

You looked like a total amateur!

And of course, as soon as I got home, I cried.

Big, ugly, dramatic cries that probably sounded like I was auditioning for a soap opera.

Pillow? Check.

Puffy eyes? Check.

Soul crushed beyond repair? Double check.

Honestly, I’m still not sure why I went there. Maybe because I wanted to prove myself. Maybe because I thought I was ready.

But no. That place? That meeting?

Total nightmare.

Total humiliation.

By the time I dragged myself out of the bed, it was late evening, and I woke up only hours later, face puffy, hair messy, and ego somewhere under the couch cushion.

And the lesson? Sometimes, showing up isn’t enough. Sometimes, you just get humiliated in style.

So, there I was, staring at the ceiling like it had all the answers.

Spoiler alert: it didn’t.

My brain kept replaying Grace’s every word, every nod, every slightly smug smile.

Ugh. That girl had it all.

Confidence,

Charm,

Achievements that made my little stories look like doodles in a notebook.

And me?

I had... my imagination. My scribbled fictions. My desperate hope that Marian would somehow see potential in me.

Yeah, right. That hope was evaporating faster than my will to live during that meeting.

I kicked off the blanket, pacing like a caged animal.

"Why did I even think I could compete?" I muttered, glaring at my laptop like it had personally betrayed me.

My fingers itched to write, to create, to do something...anything that could make me feel less...useless.

But even that felt heavy, like every word I typed was weighed down by Grace’s brilliance.

And then came the self-scolding.

Elena, you idiot. You really thought you could just stroll in and wow them?

You didn’t prepare...enough

You didn’t practice...enough.

You didn’t even... breathe properly.

Yep. My inner voice was relentless. And brutal.

But you know what?

Somewhere between pacing and crying on my floor like a toddler, a tiny spark of stubbornness flickered.

Yeah, Grace was amazing. Yeah, she had all the fancy awards and international stuff.

But guess what? She wasn’t me.

She didn’t have my brain, my style, my stories. No matter how small they looked next to hers.

I plopped back on the couch, grabbed my laptop, and muttered to myself, "Okay, Ele. You’re not done yet. You’re not giving up. You’ll show them. You’ll show her. Not today, not this week, but soon you will show them who you really are."

I made a mental note.

Step one: survive today without crying in public.

Step two: refine my stories so that next time, no one, especially Marian or Grace or somebody like them could make me feel invisible.

And the final step: probably stock up on chocolate and caffeine, because emotional recovery was going to be long.

I laughed at my childish steps for coping up this traumatic day but it seemed to be a full proof one.

Yeah, I was a mess. Yeah, I looked like a sobbing disaster.

But also? I was alive.

Still breathing. Still thinking. Still plotting.

And sometimes, that’s the best first step.

So yeah, maybe the meeting sucked. Maybe I looked like a rookie who had wandered into a battlefield of awards and brilliance.

But hey, at least I survived it. Barely. I rolled my eyes at my overthinking mind’s comment.

And tomorrow? Tomorrow was mine to take back.

I finally dragged myself out of my room, blinking at the bright living room lights like a confused owl.

Linda had already gone out somewhere.

Probably running errands and Dave?

Of course, he wasn’t home either for some work he did not care enough to tell.

Perfect. Absolute perfect timing.

I walked into the kitchen like a zombie with a mission: instant noodles.

Not just plain noodles, oh no.

I dumped in every vegetable I could find, some random spices, a sprinkle of chili flakes, maybe even a pinch of sugar because, why not?

Cooking was clearly not my forte, but desperation makes people... creative.

In no time, they were ready spreading it delicious aroma across the apartment.

Not caring if I was eating straight from the pan, I grabbed a fork and slurped those noodles like they were the most important thing in the universe.

Half the packet, maybe more, disappeared before I even realized.

My stomach was happy, my brain slightly calmer, and for a brief moment, I even forgot the humiliation of the Silver Fox meeting.

And then... the door opened.

Great. Just great. Just what I needed...to ruin my good time.