Chapter 4 My Week Started Like This

PENELOPE'S POV

My week started like this.

Monday morning, I woke up clinging to hope, the same hope I'd had for the past month. Maybe today would be different. Maybe one of my job applications would finally lead somewhere.

Instead, I got another rejection. A polite but cold email from a marketing firm, thanking me for my time and letting me know they'd gone with someone "more qualified." It stung, but I told myself it was fine. There were still other chances.

Then Wednesday came.

I got called into the back office at the pharmacy where I worked part-time as an accountant. My manager wouldn't even look me in the eye as he slid my final paycheck across the desk.

"We're letting you go," he said, his voice stiff and rehearsed.

"What?"

"Budget cuts." He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's not about your performance, I promise."

Not about my performance? Right. That made me feel so much better.

I walked out of there in a daze, paycheck clenched in my fist, already calculating how long it would last. Not long.

Then Thursday had other plans for me. I found the eviction notice taped to my apartment door. One week. I had one week to pack up and leave because I was officially behind on rent, and my landlord wasn't willing to cut me any slack.

I just stood there, staring at that piece of paper, my feet giving up on me. Everything was gradually falling apart.

By Saturday, I was clinging to the last bit of hope I had left. I had another job interview, another shot at turning things around. I put on my best blazer, forced a smile, and sat through the whole thing, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in my gut.

This time, I had actually made it to the second round. The hiring manager seemed nice, even laughed at one of my awkward jokes. For a second, I thought, *This is it. This is my shot.*

Then four hours later, I got the email.

"We regret to inform you..."

I shut my laptop before I could read the rest.

That was it. No job. No income. No home in a week.

But at least I had one thing.

Alister.

He was my safe place, the one thing in my life that felt solid. While the world kept kicking me down, he was always there, pulling me back up.

When I had a bad day, he knew exactly how to make it better. He'd pull me into his arms, wrapping me up in one of those warm, lazy cuddles that made the rest of the world disappear. Some nights, he'd cook me homemade meals that felt like comfort. He'd kiss my forehead without saying a word, as if that alone could tell me everything would be okay. And when I couldn't sleep, he'd run his fingers through my hair, whispering soft reassurances until I finally drifted off.

He was gentle, sweet, and patient, so much so that sometimes I worried I was too dependent on him. I didn't want to be a burden. I wanted to be strong, to stand on my own two feet. But the truth was, that man was my everything, and I loved him more than anything. And I knew he loved me too.

At least, I thought he did.

Because after all of that, after how messed up and depressing the week had been, I came home from my final rejection to a text that shattered whatever was left of me.

"We need to break up. I'm sorry, but this isn't working. I think it's best if we go our separate ways."

My mind went blank.

I read the words again. And again. And again. This had to be a mistake. Or maybe a prank. But not the funny kind.

I called him. No answer.

I called again. Straight to voicemail.

My hands were shaking as I sent a text.

"Alister, what's going on? Please, let's talk."

"Alister, pick up."

"Please."

Nothing.

I checked social media. Clicked on his profile.

Blocked.

It felt like the ground had been ripped out from under me. This wasn't real. This couldn't be real. I grabbed my coat and ran out the door without sparing myself a second thought. I jumped into a taxi and went straight to his apartment.

On the elevator, my stomach twisted with nerves as I prepared to confront my boyfriend. I was never the type to speak up, always shy and keeping my feelings to myself. But desperate times call for desperate measures, and I was one lovesick fool for this man.

By the time I reached Alister's front door, I was shaking. Whether from the cold or the sheer panic, I didn't know.

I pounded on the door.

"Alister!" My voice cracked, but I didn't care.

"Open up!"

Silence.

I hit the door again. Harder.

"Alister! I swear to God, if you don't open this door-"

I heard movement inside. A soft shuffle.

I pressed my palm against the door, my voice dropping.

"Please... just talk to me."

Nothing.

Then-footsteps. A door closing inside.

I sucked in a sharp breath.

He was home. He heard me. And he was ignoring me.

I don't know how long I stood there. Minutes? Hours? At some point, my knees buckled, and I slid down against the door, silent tears streaming down my face.

This was real.

He really doesn't want me anymore. Was I really that much of a burden to him that he had to shut me out, block me, and not want to see me?

Was this all my fault?

I don't remember pulling myself off the ground, but eventually, I did.

My limbs felt heavy, my head pounded from crying, and my throat was dry. I was exhausted. Empty. I pulled out my phone, scrolled through my contacts, and clicked the only name that mattered.

Riley.

It rang once before she picked up.

"Penny?" She sounded half-asleep.

"It's 1 AM, what's wrong? Why're you calling so late?"

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out at first. My chest ached, and for the first time since this whole nightmare started, I accepted defeat. The world wins. I can't do this anymore.

I swallowed hard.

"Can I... can I come over?"

Riley was quiet for half a second before her voice softened.

"Of course. Are you okay?"

No.

"I just-I just need to get out of here," I whispered.

"Where are you?"

"Alister's."

A sharp inhale. Then steady and firm,

"I'll send you an Uber. Just wait there, okay?"

I nodded, even though she couldn't see me.

"Okay."

"Hang tight, babe. I got you."