The alarm rang earlier than usual. Not because it had to, but because sleep had been impossible. Mara sat at the edge of her bed, staring at the floor, feeling the weight of the day before it even began.
Her room looked the same. Same posters. Half-read books stacked by the nightstand. But everything felt unfamiliar, as if she were standing in someone else’s life.
Today was her first day. New job. New city. Everything new.
She poured coffee, though her hands trembled so badly she spilled some on the counter. She wanted to laugh it off, but her throat was too tight. The thought crossed her mind: What if I fail? What if I don’t belong? Can I really fit in? What if I’m not good enough?
By the time she reached the subway, the city had already swallowed her. She almost turned back twice. Strangers pressed shoulder to shoulder, earbuds in, faces set. She envied their confidence and sense of belonging. She felt like an intruder in a story already halfway told.
When she finally walked into the office, the air smelled of fresh paint and coffee. Desks, screens, conversations—it was chaos wrapped in confidence. She froze near the entrance, clutching her bag like a shield.
She stood there for a moment, invisible in the crowd and clattering keyboards. No one noticed her—not yet.
“First day?” A grinning, tall guy with rolled-up sleeves leaned over the desk nearest the door.
She nodded, too quickly. “Is it that obvious?”
“Only because I looked the same last year. Like you’re about to bolt any second.”
His words were casual, but they cracked the wall of dread she’d built around herself.
“Did you get it easier?”
He shrugged. “Not easier. Just… different. The first day is about surviving. The second is about learning. The third is about realizing you’ll never have it all figured out—and that’s okay.” He paused. “So I stayed. I wasn’t perfect, but I kept showing up and everything fell in place.”
His words weren’t fancy, but they cut through her fear like sunlight breaking through clouds. For the first time that morning, she breathed. Really breathed.
By lunchtime, she wasn’t laughing yet, but she was smiling. And as she scribbled her name on the corner of her new desk, she thought:
‘Maybe this wasn’t the first day of losing herself. Perhaps it was the first day of finding who she could become.’
That evening, as she packed her bag to leave, she glanced at her desk one last time. She saw her name on a sticky note stuck on the monitor. Just a small claim. Proof she existed here.
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