The glass doors of Vels Corporation slid open with a soft whisper, swallowing Selina into a world she had never stepped into before. The air inside was cool, tinged with a faint citrus fragrance that hinted of wealth, order, and refinement. Her eyes swept across the grand lobby—polished marble floors that reflected the overhead lights, sleek black couches arranged with surgical precision, and employees moving briskly, their voices hushed yet purposeful.
Selina's heart skipped. Every detail of the place radiated power, money, and professionalism. She tightened her grip on her folder of documents, trying to keep her trembling hands steady.
Behind a shining counter sat the receptionist, a young man in a perfectly pressed suit, his hair neatly styled. His eyes flickered up at Selina as she approached, his brows subtly arching as he scanned her outfit.
Her blouse, freshly ironed but slightly faded—didn't quite match her skirt. Her shoes were simple flats, the soles a little worn. Compared to the glossy heels and sleek suits of those streaming past her, she knew she looked out of place.
"Yes?" the receptionist asked coolly, his professional tone unable to mask the faint disbelief in his expression.
Selina cleared her throat. "Um… I'm here for the interview. They told me to come this morning."
For a moment, he just looked at her, his gaze lingering too long on the mismatch of her clothes. His lips twitched as if fighting back a comment. Finally, he sighed and nodded toward the elevators.
"Fourth floor. Take the lift. The interview candidates are waiting in the main hall. Try… not to get lost."
The slight pause before his last words made Selina's cheeks burn. But she forced herself to nod politely. "Thank you," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
She turned quickly, clutching her folder tighter, and pressed the elevator button. As the silver doors opened, she caught her reflection in the polished metal. Small. Nervous. Trembling. For a split second, doubt threatened to paralyze her.
But she stepped in anyway.
.............
The fourth floor opened into another grand hallway. Glass walls, framed artwork, and the soft click of heels against marble filled the space. Signs pointed to Conference Hall A, and Selina followed them nervously until she reached a wide set of doors.
Inside, a group of neatly dressed candidates sat waiting. Sleek suits, flowing blouses, shiny shoes—their confidence filled the air like perfume.
Selina froze at the doorway, suddenly aware of every wrinkle in her clothes, every scuff on her shoes. She felt their eyes on her, subtle but sharp, as if silently measuring her worth before she'd even spoken.
Her chest tightened. For a moment, she thought of leaving—just turning around, running down the stairs, and disappearing into the busy streets outside. What was she doing here? This wasn't her world.
But then she remembered the night before. The phone call. The little dance of joy in her apartment. The hope that had burned so brightly. She had made it this far. She couldn't give up now.
Muster courage, Selina. Just stand tall.
With a shaky breath, she stepped inside, her flats whispering softly against the floor.
She didn't sit with the others. Instead, she stood near the wall, hugging her folder to her chest, eyes fixed on the polished floor tiles. She could hear fragments of conversations—boasts about experience, name-dropping of universities, confident laughs that filled the room. Each voice felt like another reminder that she didn't belong.
Her palms were clammy. Her throat dry. She shifted her weight nervously, glancing at the others. They seemed so sure of themselves, as though the job was already theirs.
Selina tried to breathe deeply, but her chest remained tight. She whispered under her breath, "I can do this. I have to do this."
..............
Minutes turned into an hour as candidates were called one by one. The heavy wooden doors creaked open, names were announced, and each hopeful applicant disappeared inside, only to return later with unreadable expressions—some pale, some forced-smiling, some visibly crushed.
Selina felt her nerves coil tighter with each passing moment. She shifted from one foot to the other, exhaustion tugging at her body. Her earlier excitement had drained, leaving behind only raw, aching anxiety.
The receptionist who had directed her earlier passed by the hall at one point, his sharp eyes flickering toward her again. He didn't say anything, but the faint smirk tugging at his lips made Selina's cheeks heat all over again.
She turned away, fixing her gaze on a painting hung at the far end of the hall. Anything to avoid their judgment. Anything to stop the restless pounding of her heart.
But then....
"Selina Whyte," a voice called from the doorway.
Her breath hitched.
Heads turned toward her, and she felt the weight of a dozen curious eyes. She stepped forward slowly, her knees trembling, her grip on the folder almost painful.
It was her turn.
Her name had been called.
The last on the list.
And as she walked toward the heavy doors, her world seemed to narrow into a tunnel of soundless pressure. Behind those doors, her future awaited.
Whether it would crush her or change her life forever. she was about to find out.