Back in Kaija's living room, the problem was still there hanging above the two girls' heads.
"You can just say you've been with Niklas for four years now," Kaija said, shrugging, completely unbothered. "That all this time, he only pretended to be with me so you could hide your relationship from your parents or whatever. But then this unfortunate accident happened, so you need to tell them the truth now."
Marja stared at her, her face caught somewhere between shock and relief, like someone just pulled from drowning. "But… but, Kaija, you… are you really okay with that?"
"Any better idea, genius?"
Marja looked away, thinking for a while. Then she murmured softly, "I'll say what you just told me, then. I'll also convince Niklas to say the same."
Kaija nodded. "Good. Just do all the talking first, see how it goes."
"Thank you so much, Kaija," Marja said, holding both Kaija's hands, her tone earnest. "I… I don't know what to s—"
"Just don't," she cut Marja off. "Don't say anything. I'm tired. I had a long day at work. Can you leave now? I need to rest."
Marja's face drooped like a sad cat again at her dismissal. Reluctantly, Marja headed toward the door, put on her heels, gave one last lingering sorry look over her shoulder, then disappeared behind the door.
Of course, Marja couldn't possibly expect her to act all normal and lovey-dovey again, as if nothing had happened between them that fast. She was only human, after all.
The rest of that week went by for Kaija like she was living in hell. She didn't leave home at all, just buried myself in bed, checking my phone constantly like a madwoman, hoping for at least an email or a call or something, anything from the airline, but nothing came.
Every irrelevant notification that dinged on her phone only sent her spiraling into another nervous breakdown. Then, on Monday morning, an email finally arrived.
Oh wait, no. Not an email. A death sentence.
Dear Kaija Sepala,
[Some irrelevant niceties.]
After careful consideration, Starlight Airlines has decided to nullify your employment contract due to your incompetence during operations, which has caused considerable damage to the company.
You are required to immediately visit headquarters to return your uniform and all company assets to complete the contract termination process.
[More irrelevant niceties.]
In short, she was fired.
"How wonderful! How blessed!" she screamed into the air.
All it took was one crying baby distracting her long enough for another crying baby to open a damn door he wasn't supposed to touch!
Just three months in, and wham, she was fired, just like that!
The S$50,000 college debt still sat in the bank waiting for her. The money she'd saved would only keep her in this apartment for another two months, if she were to starve until then. And not just that, she had no idea how she'd even start explaining the whole situation to her mom.
She wondered which word her mom would pick to throw in her face this time — clumsy, useless, hopeless, or brainless. That wouldn't even be the worst part. Kaija had already grown used to hearing those growing up. The more pressing issue was, how would she explain to her mom that she'd have to stop sending her money for the next few months?
Kaija arrived at the headquarters, dragging the company suitcase filled with all the stuff to return, hiding her face carefully under a big hat and sunglasses as she walked in. Once they'd checked all the assets inside the suitcase, they led her to another room to sign the contract termination agreement.
As she sat reading through the six-page document, the HR manager casually commented, "You wouldn't believe the odds, Kaija dear. It's been twenty years since we last had to process a case like yours."
Her assistant added, "I heard the Flight Safety department just added your case into the training program. Hopefully there won't be any future incidents like this."
Kaija gave them an innocent smile and kicked their words aside in her head, before scribbling my signature across the pages. She only wanted to get out of that room as quickly as possible. The air was getting a little too suffocating for her taste.
Just as she rose from the chair, the assistant raised a hand. "Wait, Kaija dear," the assistant said, her tone dripping with mockery, "you can't possibly think that's it, do you? That you could just let such a catastrophe happen, get fired, and walk away so easily?"
She shot the assistant an annoyed look, lowering herself back into the chair. "Sorry, I don't quite follow. What do you mean by that?"
The HR manager didn't even bother holding back a laugh. She walked over and laid down onto the table the papers she'd been holding all this time. With an icy tone, she said, "It was stated clearly in your contract from the beginning that, should you cause any damage to the company — whether to its assets, the aircraft, or the operation itself — you are liable to compensate for the damage you cause."
A cold shiver crawled up Kaija's spine. She stared nervously at the thick document laid neatly in front of her, then at the manager, before picking it up to read.
Of course, she didn't read the whole thing. It was filled with tables, charts, and legal jargon that would take hours to get through. But what it demanded was crystal clear. She dropped the document the moment she realized what they were asking for.
S$200,000 in compensation.
She shot up, slamming both hands on the table. "Are you fucking kidding me? Why am I the one who has to pay all that? Wasn't it that drunk maniac who opened the damn door?"
At that point, she had zero patience left for politeness. S$200,000, on top of the S$60,000 debt already hanging over her head? She didn't even know if selling every organ in her body would cover that much.
The manager sneered. "I thought you were better trained than that, dearie. You should know the aviation law of our nation only requires the passenger to pay the fine. The airline must absorb the rest of the damage. And, as per the contract, whoever caused that damage must bear the compensation, and that person is you, Kaija."
Kaija's knees gave out. Her body dropped back into the chair with a heavy thud.
"The airline only accepts bank transfer for this amount, by the way," the manager added coolly. "No cash accepted. If I were you, I'd start gathering resources now. You have one year. If you can't make the full payment within that time, we'll bring the case to court."