The apartment had settled into that soft, sleepy hush that only came after dinner. The hum of the fridge filled the quiet, and a cool breeze slipped through the slightly open window, carrying the faint scent of rain-soaked concrete and car fumes from the street below.
Mia sat cross-legged on the couch, staring at the TV without really seeing it. Some sitcom was playing , canned laughter echoing through the room , but her mind was miles away, circling back to Kim's words.
A private chef at Steele Mansion.
It sounded almost unreal. Like a story someone made up to tease her.
Kim padded out of the bathroom, her hair wrapped in a towel and a thick green face mask covering her skin. She plopped down beside Mia with all the elegance of a cat in pajamas. "Why are you frowning like someone stole your Wi-Fi?"
Mia blinked. "I'm not frowning."
"You are. You've been sitting like a statue for the past ten minutes. Don't tell me you're still thinking about the job."
Mia sighed and rubbed her temples. "It just… feels too big, Kim. That mansion, that kind of money , people like me don't walk into places like that. They don't even open the gate."
Kim snorted. "Please. The gate will open if you knock loud enough. Or bribe it with cookies."
Mia laughed, the sound soft but genuine. "You're ridiculous."
"Ridiculously right, maybe." Kim leaned back, pulling her towel off her head and shaking out her curls. "You've been through worse things than walking into a fancy kitchen. It's just a temporary job, not a life sentence."
"I know, but still…" Mia hesitated, picking at a loose thread on the couch. "I've barely been here a week. I don't want to look desperate."
Kim gave her a flat look. "You left your hometown with two bags, unpaid rent, and a five-year-old who calls your mom grandma-mom half the time. You're allowed to be desperate."
Mia groaned. "Thanks for the pep talk."
"Anytime." Kim grinned and reached for the remote. "Listen, Mia, I get it. You want a clean start , not another disaster. But what if this is the clean start? What if it's your shot at something better?"
Mia didn't answer immediately. Her gaze drifted toward the window. The city glowed faintly , headlights weaving like fireflies through the dark. Somewhere out there was that mansion, probably sitting on a hill with lights in all the right places, surrounded by the kind of silence only money could buy.
It wasn't that she was afraid of work , far from it. She'd worked in diners, hotels, catering gigs that had her cooking for three hundred people with barely enough ingredients to feed a hundred. But this? This was different.
This was walking into the home of a man who could buy her entire neighborhood and not notice.
And maybe, deep down, that intimidated her more than she wanted to admit.
"You know," Kim said, breaking the silence, "if I had your cooking skills, I'd be the one applying. But sadly, the only thing I can make without burning is toast and that's on a good day."
Mia smirked. "You burn water."
Kim gasped dramatically. "That was one time!"
"Twice."
Kim grabbed a cushion and smacked her. "You're lucky I like you."
The laughter eased the tension, filling the room with the kind of easy warmth that came only from friendship forged through both chaos and comfort.
When they finally quieted down, Mia leaned back, her smile fading into thoughtfulness. "Kim… do you ever think about how we got here? Like, how one decision changes everything?"
Kim glanced at her. "All the time. Usually when I'm waiting for my salary."
"I mean it," Mia said softly. "If I hadn't gone out that night ,if I hadn't…" She trailed off, her throat tightening around words she rarely allowed herself to say.
Kim didn't push. She just reached over, resting a hand on Mia's arm. Her voice, when she spoke, was quiet but steady. "Hey. You don't owe anyone an explanation for what happened. You made the best choice you could with what you had. And look at you now , still standing. Still trying."
Mia swallowed. "Sometimes it doesn't feel like trying is enough."
"It is," Kim said simply. "It always is."
Silence again , the good kind this time. The kind that said you're safe here.
Mia took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. "So what if I do apply and they reject me?"
"Then you move on to the next opportunity," Kim said, shrugging. "But what if they don't reject you? What if they love your food and hire you and pay you enough to finally stop worrying about rent? What if this is the thing that changes everything?"
Mia stared at her, lips twitching into a small smile. "You should write motivational speeches."
"I've tried. But apparently, saying 'quit your job and follow your stomach' doesn't inspire people."
Mia laughed again, softer this time, more genuine. "You're impossible."
"And you love me for it."
They both fell quiet, the sounds of the city drifting through the open window , a siren in the distance, laughter from the street below, the faint whoosh of wind against the glass.
Kim rose from the couch, stretching. "Anyway, I'm going to bed before my skincare routine clocks out." She pointed toward Mia. "Sleep on it. If your gut says no, I'll drop it. But if it says yes, promise me you'll at least try."
Mia nodded. "Okay."
"Good. Because I'm telling you, that mansion might just be your doorway to something new."
Kim disappeared into her room, leaving the faint smell of her mint face mask in the air.
Mia sat there for a long time after that, the flicker of the TV painting soft shadows across her face. Her mind replayed Kim's words over and over.
A doorway to something new.
She turned off the TV and leaned her head back against the couch, closing her eyes.
In the quiet, she saw flashes ,her mom waving goodbye, her son's sleepy little face pressed against her shoulder, her promise that she'd come back stronger, better.
And then, unbidden, the image of that mansion rose in her mind again ,tall, cold, mysterious.
She didn't know why, but something about it tugged at her like gravity.
Maybe Kim was right.
Maybe it was time to knock on a new door.
Some choices don't shout; they whisper. And when you finally listen , your whole life changes.