Iris focused on her steps, on balance, thinking about how easily these people spent what she could not earn in years.
She became distracted and almost collided with him near the balcony doors.
He was tall, that was the first thing she noticed. Tall and still, as if the noise around him bent to his will. His suit was dark, perfectly cut, and his presence shifted the space between heartbeats. When Iris looked up, she met eyes with his eyes.
He did not apologize. He did not scowl. He simply looked at her, assessing, calm and distant. Iris straightened instinctively, murmured an apology, and moved to step away.
“Wait.”
His voice was low, controlled. Not loud, yet it carried.
She paused, turning back. Up close, he was devastatingly handsome in a precise way. Sharp features, composed expression, not a single detail out of place. A man used to being obeyed.
“You are not part of the guest list,” he said.
It was not an accusation. It was an observation.
“I work here,” Iris replied evenly. She gestured to the tray in her hands. “Catering.”
He studied her again, this time longer. Iris met his gaze without flinching. She had learned long ago that lowering her eyes invited assumptions she could not afford.
“I see,” he said after a moment. “You seem distracted.”
The comment startled her. She had not realized it showed.
“Long day,” she said.
A pause. Something unreadable passed through his eyes.
“Carry on,” he said, stepping aside.
She nodded and left, her pulse louder than the music behind her. She did not know his name. She did not need to. Men like him existed in a different world, one where business deals solved problems and money silenced fear.
Earlier that morning, she went to the hospital, Nurses walked briskly, phones rang. Somewhere behind the closed door in front of her, nurses decided who lived comfortably and who waited.
Her mother needed surgery. Not tomorrow, not next year, but soon enough that the word urgent had begun to haunt Iris in her sleep. The doctors had been careful with their language, gentle in tone and firm in facts. Without the procedure, the condition would worsen. With it, there was a chance. Hope had a price tag, and Iris had memorized every digit.
She had tried everything. Loans that required collateral she did not have. Payment plans that stretched too thin to matter. Appeals to distant relatives who offered sympathy and silence in equal measure. She worked double shifts and then some, returning home late with aching feet and the sharp awareness that effort did not always equal results.
The door opened. A woman with perfect hair and a polite smile called the next name. It was not Iris. She watched someone else rise with visible relief, clutching paperwork like a lifeline. Iris stayed seated, breathing slowly, counting the tiles on the floor to keep the panic from clawing up her throat.
Her phone vibrated. Another message from the hospital, she already knew, she did not open it.
When her name was finally called, Iris stood, smoothed her jacket, and walked inside. The billing officer spoke kindly, which somehow made it worse. There were forms explaining options that were not really options. Iris nodded, asked clear questions, thanked the woman, and left with a folder that felt heavier than it should.
She walked home, traffic roared, people laughed, Iris walked until the hospital disappeared behind glass and steel, she stopped near a small park and sat on a bench, staring at nothing she began to think, about how she will be able to get enough money for her mother's treatment bill, for give minutes she imagined a Future where she will not have to fix anything nor pay bills , then she stood up and continued walking till she got home, her mother had sat at the small table, folding laundry with careful movements. They talked about other things, neither of them mentioned the surgery.
Iris Cleaned the Apartment, before getting ready for work, she packed her lunch, checked her phone and left with a kiss pressed on her mum's forehead.
She boarded a bus, on the bus, she watched reflections blur across the window and thought how many choices she had left in looking for a way to get her mum's surgery paid, it was finally evening she arrived at work, then resolve replaced her fear and she totally forgot all the thoughts about the payment of the bill in her head.
Iris wore a black dress provided by her agency and a practiced smile on her face, her job was to he efficient and visible, she excelled at both.
She carried trays, refilled glasses, business discussions floated through the air, money was discussed like toys.
It was finally midnight, so she returned home after midnight, kicked off her shoes and proceeded to checking on her mother.
The old woman is already asleep, her breathing uneven but steady.
Iris sat beside her mother and held her hand, careful not to wake her from sleeping.
Iris whispered “I am trying mum”. “I promise the hospital bills will be paid so that your surgery can be done”.
She believes everything is about to change, and things will get better, she did not know when but to someday. The city light flicked, she forces herself to sleep with the thought that someday a powerful business man would come to her rescue and change her life for the better.
