Babysitting Mr. Volkov's baby

I didn't know today would be the day. It was supposed to be routine, the same start as every other morning. I pushed open the door to the coffee shop, the little bell above it chiming like it always did. The familiar scent of espresso and cinnamon welcomed me, though something in the air felt heavier this time. Maybe it was just the rain outside that clung to my coat, or maybe it was the look on Derek's face behind the counter.

I caught the shift in his expression-a mixture of pity and something like relief. That was the first red flag. The second was the sight of Mike already standing in the middle of the floor, arms crossed, waiting for me.

"Clarke," he said, not bothering with pleasantries or even a nod in my direction. His voice was tight, a little colder than usual. I swallowed hard and forced a smile, trying to pretend like I didn't notice.

"Morning, Mike," I mumbled, slipping out of my damp coat and hanging it by the door. "Sorry, traffic was a mess again. It's that construction over on Belmont, they've got-"

"Save it." He cut me off, and my smile faltered. Derek's eyes darted to the floor, pretending to wipe down the counter, clearly wanting no part of this. My heart started to race as I stood there, trying to figure out what was coming next.

Mike didn't move. He didn't even blink. "Nina, this is the fourth time this week."

I opened my mouth to respond, to come up with some excuse, but nothing felt right. I wasn't sure which time he was even referring to. Was it Monday when my alarm didn't go off? Or Tuesday, when the bus got stuck in traffic for twenty minutes? Maybe Thursday, when I just couldn't drag myself out of bed in time. My head was buzzing with excuses, but I knew none of them would matter.

"I know, Mike, and I'm really sorry," I started, taking a step closer. "But I promise, it won't happen again. I'll set an earlier alarm, or maybe I can take over some of the closing shifts instead?"

He held up a hand, and I stopped talking. The silence that followed was worse than anything he could've said. My throat felt tight, the words stuck there now, useless.

"We've had this conversation before," he said, voice steady but firm. "We've given you chances, Nina. More than we should've. You're good at your job, but being good isn't enough if you're never here on time."

I felt a cold wave of panic rise in my chest. "I'll do better," I blurted out, the desperation in my voice clearer than I wanted it to be. "I swear, I-"

"Nina." His voice softened, but the finality in it was undeniable. "We can't keep doing this. I need someone reliable. I'm sorry, but we're going to have to let you go."

It was like the air got sucked out of the room. Just like that, it was over. My mouth went dry, and I stood there, unable to move. Let me go? They were firing me-just like that?

I forced myself to breathe. "Mike, please, I can-" But he was already shaking his head.

"I'm sorry," he repeated, and this time I believed him. He looked uncomfortable, like he hated having to do this, but not enough to change his mind.

I stared at him for a few more seconds, waiting for him to take it back, waiting for him to say something that would give me a way out of this. But he didn't. And Derek still wouldn't look up from the counter.

My throat burned, but I wasn't about to cry-not here. Not in front of Mike, not in front of Derek or the customers who were starting to glance our way. So I swallowed hard and nodded, more to myself than to him.

"Okay," I said, my voice small, like it belonged to someone else. "I get it."

Mike stepped aside, and I grabbed my coat from the hook. The damp fabric felt heavy in my hands, just like the rest of everything else around me.

The murmur of conversations had quieted, all eyes now subtly following me as I made my way to the exit. My fingers fumbled with my coat as I pulled it back on, the dampness clinging to my skin making me feel colder than the air outside.

I kept my eyes fixed on the door, refusing to look back at Mike or Derek. If I did, I knew I'd see Derek's guilty expression or Mike's grim face, and that would be it-everything I was holding inside would come spilling out, and I couldn't afford that. Not here.

The bell jingled again as I stepped outside, but this time it felt like a final note, marking the end of something I wasn't ready to lose. The chill of the air hit me full force, but it barely registered. I stood on the sidewalk for a moment, staring out at the street, the reality of what had just happened sinking in. Fired. No job. No steady income. Just the mess of my life, unraveling even further.

I shoved my hands deep into my coat pockets, trying to stop them from trembling. My mind was racing, flipping between anger, panic, and embarrassment. Anger at myself for being late again and again, anger at Mike for not giving me one more chance, and panic because I had no idea what I was going to do now. Rent was due in two weeks. Utilities, groceries, everything was stacking up, and I'd just lost the one thing holding it all together.

The worst part? I knew this was coming. I'd seen the looks Mike had been giving me over the past few weeks, the way he'd check the clock when I finally walked through the door. It was like I'd been daring them to fire me, thinking I could talk my way out of it, thinking they'd just give me one more chance. But now? Now I had nothing.

I took a deep breath, the cold air stinging my lungs, and pulled my phone from my pocket. I stared at the screen for a second, thumb hovering over the contacts list. Who could I even call? My mind flipped through the short list of people I could actually talk to about this, but each name felt like a dead end. No one was going to bail me out of this.

I shoved the phone back into my pocket. I didn't need to talk to anyone, not right now. I just needed to move, to do something, anything other than stand there on the sidewalk feeling sorry for myself.

I glanced back at the coffee shop, the warm glow of the lights spilling out onto the pavement. My shift should've just been starting. I should've been inside, tying on my apron, faking my usual smile as I took orders, pretending like everything was fine. But instead, I was standing outside in the cold, watching someone else take my place.

And it was my fault. I couldn't even blame Mike for it. Not really.

With one last look at the shop, I turned and started walking, my feet heavy against the wet pavement. I didn't know where I was going, but anywhere was better than standing there, staring at the place I'd just lost.