Chapter 4 4. IRIS. THE PICTURE-PERFECT DAUGHTER.

OLLY's...

I've always had a bad habit of making poor decisions-like leaving my spare keys in the flower pot outside, even though I've warned myself a hundred times not to. I'd even turned it into a little jingle once, just so I'd remember.

Still, that's where my mother found them. And now she was here, uninvited, filling my apartment with the scent of grilled chicken and unsolicited life advice.

Adele never just "drops by." She enters with a mission, usually disguised as dinner.

As I stepped into the dining area, the smoky aroma of grilled chicken hit me full in the face, mingling with fresh avocado and warm dinner rolls. I was already tense.

"Hey, you're back," she greeted, flashing that practiced smile of hers-bright enough to be polite, not bright enough to be sincere.

"What's the occasion, Mum?" I asked, eyeing the spread.

She always needed a reason to cook, even if she had to invent one. And here it was.

"You've only been out of work for a month and you're already out of groceries. I was going to make salmon, but..." She trailed off.

"Mum. Mum. Mum, can you-can you just stop?" I kept my voice low, but it took effort.

She sighed. "Fine. Go shower. We'll eat like a family. I miss you-that's why I came."

Lie. Adele doesn't miss people; she checks on progress reports. She never missed Dad either. Barely a year after Dad's death, she introduced me to her "friend," who is now her husband and the proud father of his picture-perfect daughter.

I went to the kitchen instead, rinsed my hands under the tap, and came back. I wanted this dinner over with.

We ate in silence, just the clinking of cutlery between us. But silence never lasts with Adele.

"How are you, by the way?" she asked, too casually.

I gave a noncommittal nod. She wasn't interested in me-not really. She was building up to something.

"Iris is holding an exhibition next week. She invited you."

Of course.

"That's the occasion, then," I muttered, wiping my mouth with a napkin. "She really invited me?"

"She asked for you by name. You're on her guest list."

Iris. My stepsister. The star child. Adele's golden girl. She had a whole songbook of Iris' accomplishments and never missed a chance to hum a few verses at my expense.

"She's been doing so well," my mother continued, voice lighting up. "This exhibition-it's at Purple Gallery. The biggest in New York. We're all so proud. I think her boyfriend might've landed her the opportunity, but she hasn't said anything."

Of course she hasn't. Probably wants to avoid the same trap I fell into-defining herself by the man beside her.

"Do you have anyone you're seeing at the moment?" she asked suddenly.

I looked at her. "No. I'm still looking for work."

"There's always a position open with your stepfather's company. You don't need to keep attending interviews where you'll just get rejected."

"I appreciate it. But I'm not interested."

"I just hate that-"

"Honestly, Mum, I said it's fine. I just need time."

She nodded. "Yeah, time," she echoed, drenched in sarcasm. Then, "You should see Iris's studio. It's close by. Maybe you two could catch up. She just moved into a new apartment near her workplace. She's thriving. I'm proud of her. Like a mother would be."

She stood, gathering the plates. I watched her carry the rest of my appetite to the kitchen.

After she left, I showered in silence. The kind that wraps around your bones, not your skin. The kind that made you reflect on your activities the whole day, plus your whole life. However, I needed my mind on the interview gig tomorrow.

I pulled on an old T-shirt, climbed into bed, and opened my laptop.

I had an interview tomorrow, one I found out was on a niche creative job board that didn't require a portfolio of prestigious references. Just raw talent and a decent brain. Both of which I had-despite what Adele thought.

Before bed, I sent a quick message to Richard.

Me: Any update on the interview? Text me back with the address.

As if expecting my text, he texted back immediately with a 'don't be late'. Sounded more like a warning than a friendly advice.

Then I set my alarm and closed my eyes.

I was jobless, nearly broke, renewal of lease got impossible and out of backup plans. But something told me tomorrow might shift something.

And if it didn't? Well, there was always Emily and half a rent to split.