Chapter 4 Blaire's past

Blaire pushed through the door of the coffee shop, the familiar scent of freshly brewed coffee blending with the sweet aroma of pastries.

As she stepped behind the counter, her boss, Mark, was already waiting for her, arms crossed and a frown engraved on his face.

" You're late again, Blaire, how long will this continue?" he snapped, his voice sharp as he glanced at the clock on the wall. " Maybe you think this is a game? You're not the only one with problems, you know."

Blaire kept her head down, her heart racing. She was already used to his constant nagging, the threats to reduce her salary, the undermining comments. "I'm sorry Mark," she murmured, her voice barely detectable.

" It's not about saying sorry, it's about doing better. Sorry doesn't cut it. If this continues, I'll have to take a portion of your salary. You think I can keep a business running with employees who can't show up on time?" His words hurt, but she didn't plead. She had learned long ago that it wouldn't make a difference.

As he continued his rant, Blaire's mind drifted. She remembered her childhood, a series of shadows hiding in the corners of her memory. Her dad had been a cruel man, his anger spilling over into violence against her mother. They had been forced to flee their home, ending up on the streets, where survival was their daily battle.

Blaire remembered the cold nights they spent crowded together for warmth, her mother whispering promises of a better life, but those words often felt empty. In the end, her mother remarried, hoping for steadiness in their lives, but her new husband, Blaire's stepfather, turned out to be just as intimidating. The memories of his disagreeable advances haunted her, which made her run away and start a life of her own.

Now, living in a small apartment, the walls seemed to close in around her. The job at the coffee shop barely paid the bills, and Mark's unkind attitude only made her days feel unbearable. Just recently, her mother had visited her in the city, bringing a flicker of warmth and longing.

Blaire shook her head, trying to focus on the present. Mark's voice faded into the background as she busied herself with the espresso machine, the rhythmic sound of coffee being prepared grounding her. She watched the rich, dark liquid flow into the cups, a small comfort amidst the chaos of her life.

As she worked, she couldn't help but wonder what had happened to the girl she used to be, the one full of dreams and hope. Now, every day felt like a struggle to survive. But somewhere deep down, a flicker of endurance remained, a stubborn rejection to let her past define her.

"Get it together, Blaire," Mark barked, shattering her thoughts. "We have customers to serve."

She nodded, forcing a smile. "Of course." With each cup she poured, she reminded herself that she was still strong, still fighting, and maybe there was a light at the end of this dark tunnel.

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Blaire ended her shift at the coffee shop, the sun lowering in the sky, casting long shadows on the pathways. As she stepped outside, the lively city seemed to throb with life around her, but her mind was elsewhere. Thoughts of having a better life echoed in her head, making her shoulders feel heavy.

Meanwhile, Damien Smith sat in a sleek conference room, the city skyline extended behind him. The meeting had gone well, the kind of success that came with years of hard work and strategic decisions. He was the family heir, and ofcourse often expected to shoulder the weight of the family business. After the meeting he left the company with his driver. While on the road, he caught a glance of a familiar figure through the window.

"Blaire!" he called out, excitement bubbling up within him. He leaned forward, struggling to catch her attention. But Blaire, lost in her own thoughts, walked on, unaware of the man trying to reach her.

Damien's focus shifted as something caught his eye, a colourful rosary hanging in a nearby shop window. He lost sight as a group of people crowded, when he got even focus to look for Blaire, she was gone, swallowed by the crowd.

"Damn it," he muttered, frustration shaded with disappointment. He had hoped to see her again and talk to her, to learn more about the woman who had unknowingly left an impression on him.

As Blaire walked home, her thoughts swirled. She couldn't shake the encounter from her mind. Damien Smith, the heir to one of the wealthiest families in the city.

Why did he even choose a cheap bar instead of luxury? The question nagged at her, a persistent reminder of the sharp divide between their worlds.

Reaching her small apartment, Blaire paused outside the door, bungled with her keys, her mind still on Damien. He seemed different from the men she was used to and there was a gentleness in his eyes that she hadn't seen before in her previous relationships.

" Stop dreaming. Get a grip, Blaire," she whispered to herself, finally opening the door. The familiar scent of her favourite meal greeted her, but the warmth felt distant. She dropped her bag onto the table and rushed to the kitchen.

" Mom, I'm home." For the first time, she had a comforting smile. Her mom was excited she was home, ushering her to have a seat as she served the meal.

As her mother served the meal, she ate without mincing.

" I was worried about you last night. You stumbled out without hesitation. I know that I didn't believe you when you told me about Bob, your stepfather, but I regret it and I'm here to make things work between us". Her mother said, with a sober look for redemption.

Blaire dropped her fork, the clash against the plate echoing in the small kitchen. Her heart skipped as her mother's words hung in the air. She didn't expect such honesty, such vulnerability. "Mom, it's... it's hard for me, I felt betrayed," she stammered, her voice trembling slightly.

"I understand," her mother replied softly, her eyes filled with regret. "I should have believed you. I should have been there for you. I see now how hard it's been for you since you left."

Blaire felt a rush of emotions, sadness, and a flicker of hope. "You married him, hoping for our lives to be better," she said, her tone sharp. "You got carried away, Mom. You should have been there for me."

"I didn't know what to do." her mother admitted, her voice breaking. "I wanted to believe you. At the same time I didn't want to lose him. Marrying him gave us stability, a chance at a normal life. But I see he's a coward now. I'm sorry for everything honey!"

Blaire stared at her mother, the words stirring inside her. The dinner she had longed for felt clouded by the weight of their past. "I wish things were different," she said quietly, picking at her food. "But I can't just forget what he did."

"I don't expect you to," her mother said, reaching across the table, her hand lingering over Blaire's. "I just want a chance to make things right. I guess we start over?"

Blaire wanted to believe her mother's intentions, but trust was a breakable thing, easily destroyed and hard to rebuild. " You want us to start over?" she echoed, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Yes," her mother prompted, her eyes pleading. "I'm not the best, but I'm here now. I want to support you, to help you. Let's try to be a family again."

Blaire took a deep breath, feeling a flicker of warmth at her mother's sincerity, but doubt still loomed large. " Well, It's going to take time, Mom. You can't come here after so many years and just say you're sorry and expect everything to be okay."

"I understand, I'm ready to take a chance," her mother said, her voice steady. " I promise to work hard for your trust. Let's take it one day at a time."

Blaire considered her mother's words, "Okay," she finally said, a smile breaking through her uncertainty. "One day at a time."

As they continued their meal, a sense of optimism filled the air, the void between them slowly starting to close. Blaire felt the warmth of her mother's presence, the intimacy of home wrapping around her like a comforting blanket.