Page 18 of A Win-Win Situation

Adeline smiles. "We love you and we'll always be here to support you, no matter what."

I take another deep breath, trying to shake off the heavy emotions that had weighed me down. I glance around the lively bar, searching for a way to change the subject and lighten the mood.

"Adeline, that blond guy has been checking you out the whole time we’ve been sitting here. He even stared at you during the whole cry fest. You should?—"

Adeline interrupts me with a playful grin. "Don’t finish that sentence, Leora. You know what I think about blond men." We all share a knowing laugh at Adeline's playful aversion to blond men. It's one of her quirks that's been a constant source of amusement among us. I remember her telling me once that even men in her favorite books can't be blond. Not in the ones she writes, or the ones she reads. She's always said that even if they happen to be blond on paper, they'll simply be dark-haired in her mind.

I tease her gently. "You really have a thing against blond hair, don't you?"

Adeline chuckles and raises her cocktail glass. "It's just not my cup of tea, Leora. Now, perk up, my gorgeous friend, and let's cheers to the future rewarding us with what we truly deserve."

I wipe away the last remnants of tears, knowing I probably resemble a raccoon at this point, and raise my glass, joining Adeline in the toast. "To the future," I say, my voice stronger now, filled with hope and determination.

To the future, and to a new, updated version of myself. A girl who doesn’t let men step on her, a girl who stands up for herself, and a girl who knows what she’s worth.

Also, note to self, invest in some therapy when you’re back home.

EIGHT

LEORA

As I stroll back from the beach, the sun kisses my skin with a gentle warmth, and the salty breeze carries a sense of freedom.

I reach the hotel in less than three minutes, and I'm reminded of how close it is to the beach.

What a life.

The hotel looks beautiful as it rises against the blue sky—its pristine, white exterior gleaming in the sunshine. The bellhops welcome me with smiles that match the bright day. When I catch the eyes of the girls behind the check-in desk, they too share in the day's radiance with beautiful smiles. However, as I approach the desk, something unexpected captures my attention—a laminated paper with the words:

Join our team as the Marketing Manager at Hotel Ayoub d'Or - A Golden Opportunity!

Is this a sign?

God, is that you?

If it is, please let this be an opportunity and not a lesson, please and thank you.

"What’s that, Clara?" I ask the brunette hotel receptionist.

She lights up. "Oh, Miss Davis. I thought of you when I saw this." She remembered our conversation from two days ago. I was walking through the lobby, my head buried in my phone, looking through applications when we bumped into each other. She asked me why I looked so stressed and that’s when I started word-vomiting to her. She now knows about my failed jobandmy failed relationship. You could say we’re best friends.

"You should apply for it," she continues, and as I stare at the paper behind her, I start to realize Ishouldapply for it. It’s a great opportunity. The only thing is that I might not have the correct experience, or live in the correct country, but hey, I’ve already received a bunch of rejections; another one won’t hurt.

"Yes, I should."

She hands me the paper, and as I touch it I feel a glimmer of hope rekindling within me.

A sudden thud and a surprised cry from Clara makes me turn around to find an older man on his hands and knees.

I don’t think for a second before I run up to him. I can see that he's struggling to get up, and his breathing is labored.

"Sir, are you okay?" I ask, extending a hand to help him up. He looks up at me with a grateful expression and nods weakly, his face pale and his eyes slightly unfocused. He must be in a lot of pain.

I try to keep the panic at bay, worrying he may have hurt himself more than we can see. I turn to face Clara and find her face contorted in utter horror, her lips parted as if to speak, but nothing comes out.

"Call an ambulance, Clara," I say.

"No, no, I'm okay," the man insists before a coughing fit interrupts him.

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