Sophia's P.O.V

**Flashback**

The sound of my shoes crunching against the gravel driveway signaled my arrival at the modest two-story house I shared with my parents. A sense of comfort washed over me as I approached the front door, eager to reunite with my family after a long day.

"Mom? Dad? I'm home!" I called out, my voice echoing through the dimly lit entryway.

Silence.

Furrowing my brow, I slipped off my shoes and made my way deeper into the house, my footsteps the only sound breaking the eerie quiet. A chill ran down my spine as I entered the living room, the unsettling stillness growing more palpable with each passing moment.

"Mom? Dad?" I tried again, my voice wavering with growing unease.

That's when I saw them—my parents, lying motionless on the floor, their bodies crumpled and unmoving. My heart raced as I rushed to their sides, frantically searching for any signs of life. But the sickening pools of crimson that surrounded them told me all I needed to know.

A strangled cry escaped my lips as the reality of the situation sank in. My parents, the two people I loved more than anything, were gone. Murdered. And their bodies right in front of me.

Panic seized me, my breath coming in short, ragged gasps as I scrambled to my feet, my eyes darting around the room. That's when I noticed the figure in the shadows, his or her face obscured, intentions clear.

"No, please..." I begged, my voice barely above a whisper.

A man emerged from the darkness, his face obscured by a mask. I could see the glint of metal in his hands, the barrels of his gun trained on me. In that moment, I knew my life was in his hands, and there was nothing I could do to stop him.

Time seemed to slow as I stood rooted to the spot, my heart pounding in my ears. I could hear the deafening silence, broken only by the shallow breaths that escaped my trembling lips. The man advanced, his footsteps echoing through the house, and I knew that this was the end.

But the shots never came. Instead, he turned and fled, disappearing into the night . I was left alone, surrounded by the lifeless bodies of my parents, my world shattered beyond repair.

Collapsing to my knees, I cradled their still forms, my tears cascading down my cheeks as I begged them to come back to me. But the anguished cries that tore from my throat went unanswered, the deafening silence of the house serving as a cruel reminder that they were gone.

**End Of Flashback**

Eight years had passed since that fateful night, yet the memories remained vivid, etched into my mind like scars that refused to fade. The cemetery gates creaked open with a rusty groan as I pushed them, the sound echoing through the serene silence. Sunlight dappled through the leaves of towering oak trees, casting long shadows across the manicured lawns.

Reaching the familiar spot, I knelt down. The cold granite of the headstone, worn smooth by years of weathering, felt rough against my fingertips. I traced the inscription with a trembling hand – their names, their death date, and a simple epitaph: 'Forever loved'. "Mom, Dad," I whispered, my voice barely audible over the gentle rustling of the leaves in the breeze. "I miss you both so much."

A tear escaped, tracing a glistening path down my cheek. I quickly brushed it away, blinking back the moisture that threatened to spill over. I placed a bouquet of white lilies, their delicate petals impossibly white against the grey stone, at the base of the gravestone. The flowers had been my mother's favorite, a symbol of purity and the innocence that had been brutally taken from our family.

For a moment, I closed my eyes, and the world faded away. I was a child again, safe in the embrace of their love. The warmth of my mother's hug enveloped me, her scent a comforting mix of lavender and freshly baked cookies. I could hear my father's laughter echoing in my ears, a deep, hearty sound that always seemed to chase away any shadows lurking in my heart. The simple, everyday moments that now seemed so precious – a bedtime story whispered in the dark, a picnic lunch spread out under a cerulean sky, the thrill of riding my bike while my dad cheered me on – played on repeat in my mind.

Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes again, but this time, they weren't just of sadness. A gentle smile tugged at the corners of my lips, a flicker of warmth chasing away the chill of grief. These memories were a treasure I would hold close forever, a testament to the love that would always connect us.

Taking a deep breath, I stood up, brushing the dirt from my knees. The familiar ache in my heart was still there, a dull throb that would likely never fully disappear. But there was a newfound resolve in my gaze as I faced the headstone. "I've tried so hard to move on, to find some semblance of peace," I continued, my voice stronger now. "And it's been so difficult without you, but I'm trying."

With a determined nod, I face the headstone one last time, "I have a job interview tomorrow. The anticipation is weighing heavily on me, but I'm determined. Wish me luck and ... happy anniversary. I love you."

As the words left my lips, a sense of resolve settled over me. My parents had always taught me to be strong, to face life's challenges head-on. And though the path ahead was fraught with uncertainty, I knew I had to keep going—for them, and for myself.

Wiping away the tears that lingered on my cheeks, I walked towards my car and slid in. The familiar hum of the engine brought a sliver of comfort, a reminder of the normalcy that still existed in my life. With a deep breath, I started the car and pulled out of the cemetery parking lot.

Pulling up my maps app, I searched for "nearest supermarket". A few supermarkets popped up on the screen, the closest one being Fast Mart Supermarket. It was only a ten-minute drive according to the app. Perfect. I needed a new file folder for my interview tomorrow and figured they would have one.

Scene: The following day(The Interview).

The morning sun filtered through the blinds, casting golden stripes across my room. I groaned as the alarm blared next to me, its incessant beeping pulling me from a restless sleep. Today was the day. My job interview as a personal assistant for the CEO at Garnet and Associates, a prominent marketing firm, was scheduled for 10 AM. The nerves in my stomach felt like a tangled mess of wires, but I was determined to face the day with the strength my parents had instilled in me.

After a quick shower, I dressed in a crisp white blouse and a navy blue pencil skirt, my favorite combination for important occasions. The outfit gave me a sense of professionalism and confidence. I slipped on my black heels, the ones that always made me feel a bit taller and more self-assured, and took a final glance in the mirror. With a deep breath, I headed out the door.

The drive to the office was uneventful, my thoughts consumed by the impending interview. As I pulled into the parking lot of Garnet and Associates, I felt a mix of excitement and anxiety bubbling up inside me. I took a moment to steady my breath, reminding myself that I had prepared for this and that my parents would be proud of me no matter what.

Inside, the reception area was sleek and polished, with gleaming marble floors and contemporary furniture. I approached the front desk, where a friendly receptionist greeted me with a warm smile.

"Good morning. I have an interview scheduled with Mr. Harris," I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

"Of course. Please sign in here, and take a seat. Mr. Harris will be with you shortly," she replied, handing me a sign-in sheet.

I filled out the form and found a seat in the waiting area, my hands clutching the file folder like a lifeline. As I waited, my mind drifted back to the cemetery, to the resolve I had felt standing before my parents' grave. That strength bolstered me now, a reminder of why I was here and what I had to fight for.

"Ms. Clark?" A voice interrupted my thoughts.

I looked up to see a man in a well-tailored suit, his expression professional but not unkind. "Mr. Harris is ready for you. Please follow me."

I stood, smoothing down my blazer, and followed him down a corridor lined with glass-walled offices. We arrived at a door marked "Vince Harris, CEO," and he gestured for me to enter.

Mr. Harris rose from behind his desk as I walked in, his expression stony. He was undeniably handsome, with chiseled features and a well-built frame that spoke of hours spent at the gym. His dark hair was meticulously styled, complementing his piercing blue eyes that seemed to see right through me. Tattoos peeked out from beneath the cuffs of his crisp, tailored shirt, adding an intriguing edge to his otherwise polished appearance. He extended a hand in greeting, but it felt more like a formality than a genuine gesture. "Ms. Clark, let's get this over with. Please, sit down."

"Thank you," I replied, taking his hand briefly before settling into the chair opposite him.

The interview began with terse pleasantries and rapid-fire questions. Mr. Harris's demeanor was cold and impatient, his eyes narrowing as he scrutinized my resume. I tried to maintain my composure, but the atmosphere was anything but comforting.

"So, Ms. Clark, what motivates you?" he asked abruptly, leaning back in his chair with a disinterested expression.

I took a moment to gather my thoughts, the memories of my parents flashing through my mind. "Honestly, my motivation comes from a desire to honor the memory of my parents. They always encouraged me to pursue my dreams and to face challenges head-on. Their support and love are what drive me to succeed, to make the most of every opportunity."

Mr. Harris raised an eyebrow, his mouth twisting into a slight sneer. "I see. That's very... sentimental. But let's stick to how your skills can benefit this company, shall we?"

I swallowed hard, trying to push past the sting of his dismissive tone. The rest of the interview proceeded with Mr. Harris firing off questions in rapid succession, barely giving me time to respond. He seemed more interested in finding flaws than in understanding my qualifications.

By the time we finished, I felt drained and disheartened. "We'll be in touch, Ms. Clark. Don't hold your breath," he said, already turning his attention back to his computer.

I left the office feeling a heavy weight on my shoulders, the sense of accomplishment I had hoped for replaced by a gnawing doubt. The drive home was a blur, my mind replaying the harshness of the interview over and over.

**New chapter on Saturday(tomorrow). Hope you enjoy!

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**Image is AI Generated