The next morning arrived quietly, without drama, without comfort.Rayyan stood at the campus bus stop, his bag hanging loosely from his shoulder, his eyes scanning the notice board while students chatted around him.
Something caught his eye.
Job Vacancy — Hotel ExeleierKitchen Helper (Part-Time)$5/hourCall: 09X-XXXXXX
Rayyan tore off the number.
He stood still for a moment, gripping the little strip of paper.
A job. Something I can do.I can't keep depending on anyone… not Ayden, not Monica, not even my parents.It's time I stand on my own feet.
He folded the paper carefully and slipped it into his pocket.
After Class
Rayyan skipped lunch — again.
He headed straight out of campus, walking under the hot afternoon sun. His stomach grumbled loudly, but he ignored it. His legs ached, but he pushed forward.
The hotel was almost 30 minutes away.
By the time he reached Hotel Exeleier, his shirt clung to his skin, sweat trailing down his back, but he didn't care.
He went straight to the HR office.
"Hi… I'm here about the kitchen helper job," he said softly.
The HR manager looked him up and down — tired, skinny, drenched in sweat — but she saw sincerity in his eyes.
They interviewed him briefly.
His answers were simple, honest, humble.
And in just ten minutes, she said:
"You can start today. No contract yet. Work as many hours as you can. It's mostly cleaning dirty kitchen utensils and assisting chefs."
Rayyan nodded.
"I'll do it."
His First Day Working
The job was harder than anything he imagined.
Heat from stoves.The sound of clattering pots.Chefs yelling instructions.Piles of greasy utensils that never seemed to end.
His hands hurt.His back hurt.His stomach was empty.
But Rayyan kept going.
Hardship is nothing new for me, he reminded himself.
Hours passed. The sky outside darkened.
When he finally looked at his watch — 8 PM.
He wiped his forehead and approached his supervisor.
"I'll stop for today, sir."
He signed out, washed his hands, and walked out of the hotel lobby.
But as he stepped outside—
Ring! Ring!
His phone buzzed.
Rayyan glanced at the screen.
Monica calling.
His heart skipped.
Did she… find out I'm working here?
He swallowed and answered.
"Hi Monica…"
"Rayyan! Where are you? I didn't see you the whole day. You didn't come for lunch. Everything okay?"
Rayyan hesitated.
He didn't want to lie.
"I'm fine, Monica. I… started a part-time job."
There was a pause.
"Where?"
"Hotel Exeleier."
Another pause — sharper this time.
"What job?"
Rayyan rubbed the back of his neck.
"Err… just… kitchen work. It's nothing big."
Her voice dropped. Slow. Controlled.
"Are you done working?"
"Yes… I'm going back now."
"How are you going home?"
"I'll walk."
Her voice changed instantly.
"RAYYAN.Stay there.I'm coming to pick you.No argument."
Rayyan closed his eyes.
"Okay. I'll wait."
Not because he wanted to trouble her.
But because he could hear… beneath her strict tone…
Worry.Genuine worry.
Waiting Outside the Hotel
Rayyan sat outside the hotel entrance, watching expensive cars glide in and out: Mercedes, BMWs, Porsches.
Men in tailored suits. Women in elegant dresses.
One day, Rayyan whispered to himself,I want to bring my parents out in a car like this.Not for pride.But to show them that their sacrifices were worth something.
Fifteen minutes later—
A familiar car stopped in front of him.
Monica.
Rayyan stood and approached the car.
He opened the door quietly and slipped inside.
Silence.
Monica didn't start driving immediately. She just looked at him—studying his tired face, his sweat-dried shirt, his dull eyes.
"Did you walk all the way here today?" she finally asked.
Rayyan nodded slowly.
"Yes."
He swallowed.
"I'm… sorry I troubled you to come pick me. I could've walked back. It's just thirty minutes."
Monica's voice sharpened—hurt mixed with anger.
"Rayyan… do you know what is the biggest trouble for me?"
Rayyan looked at her, confused.
She continued softly — almost breaking:
"It's you walking here alone.You working in a kitchen till night.You starving.You suffering silently… thinking you have to carry everything alone."
Rayyan didn't speak.
His chest tightened.
Her voice softened further — trembling just slightly.
"Rayyan… why are you hurting yourself like this?"
He looked down.
Because no one else will carry it for me, he wanted to say.
But no words came out.
Dinner
"Did you eat?" she asked.
Rayyan shook his head.
Monica sighed, started the engine, and drove him to a restaurant.
They sat down.
Monica ordered for him — a proper meal, warm and comforting.
Rayyan ate quietly.
He didn't argue.Didn't refuse.Didn't pretend.
His heart was thinking too loudly.
Why is Monica doing so much for me?Why does she care?Is this what kindness feels like?I've only ever seen this level of care from… my mother.
He looked at her hands, resting on the table.
Small. Soft. Trembling slightly — from worry, not anger.
They finished dinner mostly in silence, the restaurant noise filling the space between them.
Back at the Hostel
Monica stopped the car at Rayyan's hostel entrance.
Before he stepped out, she spoke — her voice firm but gentle.
"Rayyan… tomorrow, you're not going to your part-time job."
He blinked.
"Monica—"
"No."She cut him off."You don't have to suffer this much just to survive. You're a brilliant student. You topped your high school. You have a future, Rayyan. This job will drain you. It will affect your studies."
She exhaled slowly.
"There are other ways to earn money — better ways. We'll talk tomorrow during lunch. Usual table."
Rayyan looked at her — unsure, tired, grateful, confused.
"Thank you, Monica," he whispered.
He stepped out of the car.
She watched him walk away — her eyes soft with something Rayyan didn't see.
Alone in His Room
Rayyan closed the door behind him.
His thoughts were loud.
What is she going to talk about tomorrow?Why is she doing this?Why does she care for me so much?
Too many questions.
But his body was exhausted.
He landed on the bed without even removing his shoes.
His last thought before sleep took over—
Tomorrow… everything might change.
Just as Rayyan drifted into sleep, his phone buzzed on the table.
One new message.
From an unknown number.
"Rayyan… can we meet for lunch tomorrow?— Lisa"
His eyes shot open.
Sleep vanished.
Again…Again she appeared at the exact moment he tried to walk away.
"Why now…?" he whispered into the darkness and fall asleep.