Elisa Patel stood outside the sleek glass tower of E Group, her heart racing with anticipation. The building loomed before her, an imposing symbol of the world she dreamed of entering. She had been preparing for this moment for weeks—researching the company, practicing her responses, and polishing her resume. This was her chance to escape the suffocating grip of her foster home and build a better life. She could almost feel the weight of her foster mother's dismissive words echoing in her head: You'll never make it in life.
She straightened her back and squared her shoulders, trying to push the doubt away. I can do this. She took a deep breath and crossed the threshold into the building.
As she stepped inside, Elisa was immediately struck by the modern decor and the frantic energy of the bustling office. It was a world completely different from her own—a world of polished marble floors, sleek steel railings, and sharp-suited employees walking quickly, their heads down in purposeful focus. The air felt different here—charged with an electric intensity, the kind of place where dreams could either be built or shattered.
She tried not to let the overwhelming sense of insignificance swallow her. She had come this far, hadn't she? This was her chance to make something of herself.
Focus, she reminded herself, smoothing down her worn but clean clothes as she approached the receptionist. The woman behind the desk, a poised young professional, greeted her with a friendly smile that seemed to match the expensive surroundings.
"Hi, I'm Elisa Patel. I'm here for the interview," she said, trying to sound confident, though her voice trembled slightly.
The receptionist nodded and handed Elisa a form to fill out. Elisa's hands shook as she scribbled down her details, her mind racing with worst-case scenarios. What if they don't like me? What if they think I'm not good enough? She quickly glanced over her resume before slipping it into the folder, wishing she could hide the gaps in her work history, the lack of a formal college degree. She wasn't proud of where she came from, but it wasn't her fault.
The receptionist returned her gaze, giving Elisa a reassuring smile. "Take a seat. I'll let them know you're here."
Elisa nodded, forcing herself to sit still. She felt like a fish out of water in this sleek corporate world. The small room was filled with magazine covers, articles about the company's success. There were photos of corporate events, the smiling faces of men and women in sharp suits and dresses. She wondered, not for the first time, if she even belonged here.
A few minutes later, the receptionist called Elisa's name. She stood, smoothing out her clothes again, and followed the receptionist to a conference room on the fifth floor. The sleek walls reflected her nervous expression as she walked past the open spaces, a blur of conversations, ringing phones, and the faint hum of printers.
The conference room had glass walls and a view of the city skyline that felt both impressive and intimidating. Three interviewers were sitting behind a long, polished table—two men and one woman. They were dressed in well-tailored suits, the kind that made Elisa feel underdressed, even though she had tried to pick the best she had.
"Good morning, Elisa," one of the men said, his voice firm but not unkind. "Please, take a seat."
Elisa sat down, trying to make eye contact with each of the interviewers. She could already feel her heart pounding, and despite her best efforts, her hands were trembling. The woman across the table gave her a polite smile, but Elisa could sense the subtle assessment in her gaze. She could feel the weight of their scrutiny like a physical presence in the room.
"Let's start with your resume," one of the men said, flipping through her documents. "Tell us about your previous experience."
Elisa took a deep breath and forced herself to focus. "I worked various odd jobs, including helping around my foster home—doing chores and taking care of the children. I've also had some experience as a personal assistant and doing administrative work for local businesses."
The man raised an eyebrow. "That's... not very corporate. What makes you think you can handle the demands of a fast-paced company like E Group?"
Elisa's chest tightened. She had known this question would come, but now that it was here, she was caught off-guard. I'm not like them, she thought. I don't have a family that's connected, no prestigious school on my resume… But she couldn't say that. She had to focus on the skills she did have.
"I'm a fast learner," Elisa said, trying to project confidence despite the unease gnawing at her. "I've been managing difficult situations in my personal life, and I believe that has taught me to be adaptable and resourceful. I can handle stress, and I have a strong work ethic."
The interviewers exchanged skeptical glances, and Elisa's confidence began to crumble. She could see them appraising her, measuring her worth against some unspoken standard. She could almost hear the ticking of a clock in the silence that followed.
The woman finally spoke, her voice cold. "And how do you think you'll fit in with the company culture? This isn't just a job. We need someone who can thrive here—someone with the ambition to take on responsibility quickly."
Elisa swallowed hard. She thought about how much she wanted to belong here—how much she wanted to be more than just the girl from the wrong side of town. But the words didn't come. I can do this, she repeated silently in her mind. I just need a chance.
"I believe I can contribute," Elisa said, her voice steadier now. "I know I may not have the most conventional experience, but I'm eager to learn, and I'm determined to prove myself."
Another pause. Elisa could almost feel them deciding her fate in those moments. They were waiting for something, anything, that would assure them she was worth the risk. But in their eyes, she could tell they had already made up their minds.
Finally, one of the men nodded, a polite but dismissive smile on his face. "Thank you, Elisa. We'll be in touch."
Elisa stood, her mind reeling. It was over. The interview had been a disaster, and she knew it. The polite smiles, the forced pleasantries—they were all a formality, a way to soften the blow. She had no chance of getting this job. She had failed before she even stepped into the room.
The receptionist handed her back her things with the same practiced smile. "Thank you for coming in, Elisa. We'll be in touch soon."
Yeah, right, Elisa thought bitterly as she turned to leave. As she stepped back into the elevator, she felt her world shrink. Her hopes, so carefully built up over the last few weeks, collapsed like a house of cards.
She walked out of the building and onto the busy street, the sunlight too bright, too harsh. The world around her moved on without a care. People rushed past her, their lives continuing with a pace that only reminded her of her failure. I don't belong here, she thought, her eyes stinging with tears she refused to shed in public.
The walk back home was a blur. Elisa's mind replayed the interview, each misstep and awkward pause. She cursed herself for not being more confident, for not giving better answers. What could I have done differently?
By the time she arrived home, the sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows across the street. She walked through the door, bracing herself for the inevitable. Her foster parents, as usual, greeted her with their brand of indifference.
"So, how was the interview?" her foster mother asked, her tone flat and uninvested.
Elisa tried to muster some optimism, but her words felt hollow. "It didn't go well, I think."
Her foster father snorted from the couch. "We knew you wouldn't amount to anything. You're just a burden to us."
The words stung more than they ever had before. Elisa could feel her chest tightening, but she kept her composure. Don't cry. Don't let them see you break. She bit her lip and forced herself to stay silent, even as her eyes burned.
"I'm trying," she whispered, the words barely escaping her lips.
Her foster mother laughed bitterly. "You're trying? You'll never make it in life, Elisa. You're nothing but a waste of space."
The verbal barrage continued, each insult cutting deeper, until Elisa felt like she was disappearing into the floor. Finally, her foster parents were done with her. They told her to leave, that she wasn't welcome in their house anymore.
With no place to go, Elisa wandered the streets, feeling the weight of her failure pressing down on her chest. The city around her seemed to mock her, its lights twinkling in the distance, as if to remind her of the world she couldn't reach.
But deep down, something in her refused to give up. I can't go back to that life. I have to try again.
As the night stretched on, Elisa found herself at the bus stop. The cold night air stung her skin, but it was a relief. She was alive. She was still fighting.
She remembered the address the orphanage warden had given her—the one that led to her parents' old apartment. It wasn't much.