Sandra's POV
"I'm done for the day, sir," I said as I stepped into the room, a mix of unfamiliar scents lingering in the air. My eyes scanned the space. Alex was sitting beside his friend, Tony. The moment I walked in, I sensed something was off—they stopped talking abruptly, and Alex casually moved the red briefcase off the table.
"What do you want, mophead?" Alex asked, glaring at me. Mophead. That nickname always stings, but there's nothing I can do—he's my boss.
"I'm done for the day," I repeated, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "I'd like to head out now." I added the last part, hoping he'd reach for his wallet and pay me as usual.
"You can go," he said sharply. "I'll pay you tomorrow."
I didn't respond. His words, always cold and detached, cut deeper than he likely realized. I turned and walked out the way I came, my footsteps heavy with embarrassment.
As I made my way out of the estate and down the street, I looked around, hoping to catch a ride—but the road was empty.
*****
What a day…
I didn't even bother turning on the light when I walked into my apartment. My hand brushed against the wall, but I knew there was no need to flick the switch. The place was so small, I could navigate it blind. Three steps from the door, and I was already at the edge of my mattress, laid out on a worn rug with a thin blanket curled up like a waiting pet.
I collapsed onto it like a rag doll, limbs limp, breath heaving. I couldn't even muster the strength to kick off my shoes. My back screamed. My knees felt like they were about to buckle even as I lay flat. My eyes fluttered closed on their own.
"I can't do this forever," I muttered to no one, the words slurred by fatigue.
Morning had started early—too early. At Lona Broadcasting Company, I'd barely had a second to breathe. The receptionist called out sick, so I was stuck covering two desks. The phones didn't stop ringing, and I was running back and forth between floors like some kind of marathon courier. I smiled through it, as always. Smiled even when my boss asked me to stay "just thirty minutes more." It turned into two hours.
I barely ate lunch—just half a sandwich and some warm water from the break room cooler. Then I headed off to my bakery.
God, just thinking of it made my chest swell a little.
It wasn't fancy. A small space tucked into a side street. But it was mine. My baby. My escape. I spent hours there this afternoon, hauling in supplies, restocking ingredients, cleaning the fridge, rearranging the display case. I had two birthday orders due tomorrow—no room for error. I even stayed an extra hour to tweak the fondant on one of the cakes. I wanted it to be perfect.
Then came my final stop—Don's estate.
That place… polished marble, gold doorknobs, chandeliers big enough to crush a car. And me, on my knees, scrubbing grout with an old toothbrush because apparently the regular mop "didn't reach deep enough." I didn't complain. Just nodded and did the job.
Now, I've come back to nothing—no food, no strength, just the ache of hunger gnawing at me.
I was just starting to drift off when….
Riiinnnng.
The sound shattered the silence. I flinched. My hand fumbled around the floor until it closed over my phone. I checked the screen—an unknown number.
I groaned. "Who the hell is calling me now?"
I almost ignored it.
"Hello?" I said, my voice groggy.
"Miss Sandra?" a woman's voice asked, clipped and breathless.
I sat up instantly. "Yes. Who is this?"
"There's been a fire…..you need to come to your shop. Right now."
I blinked, confused. "Wait, what? Fire? Where exactly?"
"Near your shop. It's spreading fast. You need to…."
The line went dead.
"What? Hello?" I stared at the screen. Battery gone. My phone had died in the middle of a sentence I wasn't sure I wanted to hear.
"No, no, no—dammit!" I hissed, scrambling to my feet. I didn't think. I just moved.
I grabbed the nearest shirt—inside-out, didn't care—slipped into a pair of mismatched flats, and bolted out the door. The night air hit me like a slap. It was thick, still, too quiet for what I'd just heard.
I started running. Hard.
"God, please no," I whispered as I sprinted down the dark streets. "Please not my bakery."
Every step felt heavier than the last. My breath came in gasps. My heart pounded like it wanted out of my chest.
As I got closer to my street, the smell hit me first.
Smoke. Thick and bitter. It clawed at my throat, my lungs. Then I saw the red glow in the sky, flickering against the clouds. I pushed forward, faster, legs burning.
Then—there it was.
Flames. Massive. Alive.
My breath caught.
My bakery.
My bakery was being eaten alive. Flames were pouring from the windows, wrapping around the roof, bursting through the doors. I could hear the crackle of the fire, the pop of glass exploding, the groan of timber surrendering to heat.
"No…" I whispered, frozen.
"NO! NO! NO! NO!"
I ran toward it, but someone grabbed my arm.
"Ma'am, you can't go in there!"
"Let me go!" I screamed, trying to break free. "That's my bakery! That's everything I have!"
A firefighter, or maybe just a bystander—I couldn't tell—tightened his grip. "It's not safe. The building's collapsing. You go in there, you're not coming out."
I fought him. "My recipes are in there! My mixers! My….my mom's journals! Please!"
He shook his head. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
The words barely registered.
I collapsed to my knees, the sidewalk tearing at my skin. I stared, eyes wide, heart breaking.
The windows burst outward, sending shards into the street. People gasped. I barely heard them.
All I could see was the fire. All I could feel was the loss.
I thought of the cupcakes I made for kids whose parents couldn't afford a big cake. I thought of the woman who cried when I recreated her wedding cake from memory. I thought of my mother, standing in our kitchen back then, telling me, "Flour, eggs, sugar… and heart. That's all you need to make magic."
It was all gone.
"This can't be real," I whispered, tears pouring down my face. "This can't be happening."
A woman nearby touched my shoulder gently. "Do you need someone to call? Family?"
I shook my head slowly. "No one to call," I murmured.
And then the world tilted. The fire swirled in my vision, spinning with the faces around me. My limbs felt like water. I couldn't feel my fingers.
Everything turned black.
And I fell.