bChapter 189 /b

DORA’S POV

I kept telling myself: take it slow, Dora. Don’t expect miracles. Just show him who you are now.

With that stubborn thought rooting itself in my heart, I forced myself to mo

from the view of the mirror. My room felt colder than usual without electricity, but I pushed past it, heading straight for the bathroom. The moment the hot water hit my skin, a small sigh escaped my lips. Warmth trickled down my shoulders, and for a moment, I let myself close my eyes and imagine that this wasn’t a tiny apartment with peeling paint on the walls. I imagined I was somewhere better, somewhere I deserved to be.

Deep down, though, I knew this might be thest hot shower I’d get for

while until they fixed the power, if they even did. The thought added a blittle /bweight to my chest, but I tried to shake it off. I couldn’t let anything ruin today.

After washing my hair and carefully drying it, I slipped into my most decent casual outfit: a clean white blouse, a slightly faded pair of jeans, and shoes that had seen better days but were still passable. I nced in the cracked mirror on my wall, adjusting a strand of hair, and let out a breath.

“Okay, Dora,” I whispered to myself. “Today’s going to be a good

day.”

I grabbed my small bag, slung it over my shoulder, and stepped into the living room. My parents were already awake, sitting together, looking as worn out as they always did–but they managed tired smiles when they saw me.

“I’m heading out,” I told them, trying to sound cheerful.

My mother nodded, concern flickering in her eyes. “You have a long day ahead. Take care of yourself.”

“I will,” I promised. I paused at the door, looking back at them. I had given up so much so I could keep going, and it hurt to see them aging so quickly under the weight of our problems. But today, maybe things could start to change–even just a little.

Outside, the morning air felt crisp and almost hopeful. I tightened my grip on my bag and began the short walk to the café where I’d gotten my first job. My thoughts kept drifting back to Adrian. How would he react if he saw me today? Would he turn away in anger? Or would he let me exin? I couldn’t know–but I had to try.

I reached the café’s ss door, paused to take a calming breathb, /bthen pushed it open. Inside, the smell of coffee and pastries wrapped around me instantly, warm and inviting despite the nerves bubbling in my

omach.

A woman turned toward me the moment I stepped inside. She was heavyset, probably in her mid–thirties, with her hair pulled back tightly and eyes that were sharper than they first appeared.

“You must be Isadora, right?” she asked, her voice carrying the no–nonsense tone iof /isomeone who didn’t waste time.

I nodded quickly. “Yes, ma’am.”

Without another word, she tossed me an apron, and I almost fumbled catching it. “Put that on,” she

said.

“You’re starting immediately.”

There was no room for hesitation. I slipped the apron over my head and tied it behind me, straightening it out as best I could. bThen /bI followed bher /bba/b. walked briskly toward the back of the café.

She pointed around, speaking quickly. “You’ll be working here at the front as ba /bsales girl. That means bgreeting /bcustomersb, /bringing up their orders, making sure the disy stays full and clean, and handling any questions. Keep your eyes open, be polite, and don’t let anyone steal anything. bGot /bit?”

“Yes, ma’am,” I repeated, my voice a little steadier this time.

bShe /bgave me a curt nod, then nced me over. “You’re presentable benough/b. Just keep byour /bsmile bon/bb; /bbcustomers /blike bthat/b.

As she walked away, I looked around the café properly for the first btime/b: It was small but bcozy/bb, /bbwith /bba /bbfew /bround btables /bbby /bbthe /bbwindow /bband /bba /bbcounter /bdisying pastries and sandwiches. A fresh bbatch /bbof /bcroissants had just be /bbout/bb, /bbtheir /bbbuttery /bbsmell /bbalmost /bbmaking /bbme /bbforget /bbmy /bbnerves /b

buy /bbwed /bTo Jul & OD

Chapter b189 /b

b1 /bbstepped /bbbehind /bbthe /bcounter and took my ce, my hands resting lightly on the ss. A customer walked in balmost /bimmediately ba /bbman /bbin /ba s btalking /bbon /bthe phoneb. /bI forced a small smile..

b“/bbGood /bmorning, sir. What can I get for you today?”

He bbarely /bnced at me, mumbling an order for coffee and a croissant. My fingers stumbled over the buttons on the register at first, bbut /bI bcaught /bmyself took a deep breathb, /band finished the order. He took his cup and left without a word.

“Well… that could’ve been worse,” I muttered under my breath.

Little by little, the café began to fill up. Office workers, students, and even an elderly couple who smiled warmly at me. Every time someone stepped up to the counter, I tried to push everything else from my mind and focus on them–their orders, their small talk, their hurried thank–yous.

Yet in the quiet moments, my thoughts always drifted back to Adrian. I imagined what I’d say if I got to see him today. How I’d apologize–btruly /bapologize -and promise him I’d changed. Promise him I wouldn’t hurt him again. And maybe, just maybe, he’d see that I still loved him.

Minutes slipped by. My legs began to ache, I wasn’t really used to all this kind ofbour, but I knew it was only temporary, my back protested bevery /bbtime/bb! /bbent to refill the pastry tray. But I kept at it, reminding myself why I was here: to keep my apartment, to keep fighting for a better life–band/bb, /bin my bheart/b, to see Adrian again.

When my shift finally ended, I stepped outside, breathing in the city air like it was the sweetest thing I’d ever tasted. My break would be short–bI /bbhad /bbto /bhurry to`my second job soon–but for a moment, I let myself lean against the wall and close my eyes.

One step at a time, I told myself. I would work. I would survive. And today, maybe, I would find a way to reach out to Adrian–to show him that the Dora standing here now wasn’t the same girl of five years ago, I know am a go getter and always get what I want so I wouldn’t stop now.

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