I tripped on my own shoe lace, almost fell down from the stairs, and died.

What a great start.

While going to the kitchen to get myself something to eat, I tied my hair in a bun and jumped on the kitchen island. My eyes roamed the entire kitchen because I was looking for two things. One: something sinfully tasty to eat; two: a fairy God mother who would make me something sinfully tasty to eat.

I found neither.

I groaned as I jumped down and opened the fridge hoping that I would find milk in it. Luckily I did.

Yoohoo, cereal for another day!

I was so excited to eat it.

Not.

I exited the kitchen and plopped down on the couch, turning the TV on to kill the time. I was supposed to visit papa at 3pm today and I was just waiting for the damn time to pass by, so that I could finally go to the hospital and talk to him.

Papa got another cardiac arrest two days back, one day prior to my interview with Mr. Rhodes, so the hospital dudes told me that he needed medical assistance, while staying in the hospital for a few weeks.

Can you freaking believe that?

How did they expect me to live for so many days without him?

They said that because it was papa's third cardiac arrest, his heart had become way too sensitive to deal with anymore situations like that. And so they had to keep him under observation for a few darn weeks.

But that's bullshit.

My papa was completely fine. I had lived with him for the past twenty-two years. I knew him better than they did. But obviously, I had to listen to the doctors. Just to make sure papa was absolutely okay and he wasn't going anywhere for, like, the next seventy-two years.

I relaxed back on the couch as they started showing Brooklyn 99 on the TV. Then, just like always, I didn't know how or when, but I fell asleep on the couch without even bothering to turn the TV off.

**********

I opened the door to papa's room as I saw him laying down and reading a vogue magazine.

Seriously?

His eyes lit up when he saw me and he put the magazine on the nightstand as he said,

"Hey, sweetie."

"Hi, papa. What's up?" I said as I put the soup on the nightstand and threw my bag on the floor, taking a seat on his bed.

"My blood pressure," he replied and then started laughing like I just told him that I breathed water.

"That was horrible. Try another one," I smiled and lightly shook my head as I took the soup out of the packet.

"The least you could've done is laugh at your sick old man's joke," he pouted and took the spoon from my hand.

"Did they give you the afternoon dose of medicines yet?" I asked while flipping the pages of the magazine.

"Yeah, they give me those damn medicines all the time," he rolled his eyes and took a spoonful of the soup.

"Good for you," I sang.

Papa was diagnosed with paraplegia (a paralysis of both legs) eight years ago, when he and my mom got into an accident and, fortunately, I wasn't in the car.

That day, I lost my mom and papa lost his ability to walk, but we somehow still managed to make it through in this world, learning to move on with what we had left.

Papa had been forced to resign from his job, but luckily he had saved enough for us to survive a few years after the accident. I got a scholarship and did a part time job at a few random cafés to help papa pay off our bills and other expenses. So, we were thankfully holding up pretty well.

Until now, when I realised that I really needed to find a suitable, well paying job because our savings obviously weren't going to last forever, no matter how much I wished they would.

So yeah, here I was, playing the good daughter.

**********

I came out of the bathroom as I heard my phone ringing.

Please be it. Please be it.

The results of my interview were still not out yet and nobody had called or e-mailed me to inform me whether or not I had gotten the job. I was freaking out each passing second.

The number flashing on my screen was not saved in my phone and it was a landline number. Believe it or not, I wasn't dumb enough to not know who the caller might be.

I cleared the throat as I picked up the call

"Hello?"

"Am I speaking to Miss Isabelle Reinhart?" a female voice said from the other side.

"Yes, this is Isabelle Reinhart indeed," I said in my peak professional voice.

"I'm speaking from Flawless Inbounds. I'm glad to inform you that you have been given the secretary job. We expect you to be here tomorrow morning at eight o'clock sharp. Have a good day, Miss Reinhart," the high pitched voice continued and before I had a chance to say something back, she cut the call.

Well, okay then.

I did a victory dance in the bathrobe in front of my dressing table.

Finally, I got a suitable and well paying job to live the luxuries I'd always dreamt of.

I smiled and fell flat on my bed as I thought about the new job and all the people I would meet there.

All the people I would work with.

*************