Jade slumped onto the worn couch in the corner of her small, dilapidated living room. The house groaned under its weight of years, the faded wallpaper peeling from the corners and the wooden floorboards creaking beneath her. A small pile of unpaid bills teetered on the coffee table in front of her, mocking her. She pushed her golden-blonde hair out of her face, her almond-shaped brown eyes scanning the newest envelope: another notice for her grandmother’s medical expenses.
“Fantastic,” she muttered bitterly, tossing it onto the growing pile. “Because I was just thinking I didn’t have enough problems.”
From the kitchen came the sound of clinking dishes. Her grandmother, frail but stubborn, was washing up. “Jade, honey,” the old woman called, her voice tired but warm, “why don’t you take a break? You’ve been at it all morning.”
“I can’t, Grandma,” Jade called back, her voice sharper than she intended. Guilt hit her instantly, and she softened. “I need to figure this out. You need your medication, and I don’t want the electricity to get cut off—again.”
Her grandmother appeared in the doorway, her gray hair tied back in a loose bun. “We’ll manage. We always do.”
Jade smiled faintly, more for her grandmother’s benefit than her own. They both knew managing wasn’t enough anymore. She’d graduated with a degree in Hospitality and Tourism two years ago, but the industry hadn’t been kind. Her current job as a front desk assistant at a three-star hotel barely covered their basics, let alone the mounting medical bills.
And her boss? Ugh. Mr. Carlson, a portly man with a permanently furrowed brow, refused to give her the raise she’d asked for last week. “Your performance is fine,” he’d said dismissively, “but times are tough for everyone.”
“Yeah, tough for everyone except you, with your new car and private golf membership,” she’d grumbled under her breath that day.
Her phone buzzed on the table, pulling her out of her thoughts. She reached for it, expecting another bill reminder, but her hand paused when her eyes caught a bold headline in the open newspaper beside it:
“Seeking Flight Attendant for Exclusive Private Airline. Competitive Pay. Travel the World.”
Jade blinked, her heart skipping a beat. She picked up the paper, scanning the details. The advertisement was short but intriguing: “Looking for a confident, capable individual to join our private airline. Experience preferred but not required.
“Travel the world,” she whispered, her fingers brushing the words. A spark of excitement lit up her chest, quickly followed by doubt. “Yeah, right. Like they’re going to pick me.”
“What’s that, Jade?” her grandmother asked, leaning on the doorway.
Jade hesitated, then held up the paper. “It’s… this ad. They’re looking for a flight attendant for a private airline.”
Her grandmother’s eyes sparkled with sudden hope. “And you’re going to apply.”
“Grandma, come on. It’s probably a scam, or they want someone with years of experience. I’m not even sure—”
“No excuses,” her grandmother interrupted firmly. “You’re smart, you’re beautiful, and you’ve got that hospitality degree. Why wouldn’t they want you?”
Jade chuckled humorlessly. “Because I’m a broke desk clerk who can’t even negotiate a raise, maybe?”
Her grandmother shuffled over, her frail hands resting on Jade’s shoulders. “You’re more than that, Jade. You just need a chance. And this—” she tapped the paper, “—might be it.”
Jade sighed, her gaze drifting back to the ad. The idea of a fresh start, of escaping her dead-end job and crumbling house, was tempting. “What if I don’t get it?”
Her grandmother smiled gently. “Then you keep trying. But you’ll never know unless you send that email.”
An hour later, Jade sat at her rickety desk, staring at her laptop screen. Her CV was open in one window, her email draft in another.
“You’re really doing this, huh?” she muttered to herself, her fingers hovering over the keyboard.
Her phone buzzed again—a text from her best friend, Mia: “Still stressing about bills? Drinks tonight? My treat.”
Jade quickly replied: “Maybe. Sending out a long-shot job app first.”
Seconds later, her phone buzzed again. “Tell me everything!”
Jade shook her head, smiling despite herself. She focused back on the screen, tweaking her CV one last time. “Okay,” she muttered. “Here goes nothing.”
Jade hit send before she could overthink it. Leaning back in her chair, she let out a shaky breath.
“Well, that’s done.” She glanced at her grandmother, who had been hovering nearby, pretending to dust.
“You’ll get it,” her grandmother said with quiet conviction.
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Jade replied, though a small part of her wanted to believe it.
The next morning, Jade’s phone buzzed as she poured cereal into a chipped bowl. Half-awake, she glanced at the screen.
Subject: Interview Invitation
Her breath caught, the cereal box slipping from her hand. Milk splashed onto the counter, but she didn’t care. Her eyes scanned the message, her heart pounding in disbelief.
“Dear Ms. Nguyen,
We are pleased to invite you for an interview regarding the flight attendant position…”
“Oh my God,” Jade whispered.
From the kitchen doorway, her grandmother asked, “What is it?”
Jade turned, clutching her phone. “They… they want to interview me.”
Her grandmother’s face lit up with pride. “I told you!”
***
The office smelled faintly of expensive leather and brewed coffee, but even the comfort of their luxurious surroundings couldn’t mask the exhaustion in the air. Milan, Enzo, and Thiago sat slouched in their high-back chairs, the day’s events etched on their faces. They had spent hours conducting interviews for the flight attendant position on their new private airline.
And so far, none of the candidates had lived up to their expectations.
“That last one,” Thiago said, running a hand through his hair before leaning back. “Have you seen her décolleté? I swear, everything was about to spill out. I couldn’t focus on what she was saying.”
Enzo snorted, tapping his fingers against the sleek mahogany desk. “Focus? I don’t think she even knew what she was saying. When I asked her about customer service, she said her biggest strength was ‘making men feel special.’”
Thiago chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, I bet that’s exactly what she meant by service.”
Milan sighed, his tie slightly loosened. “We’re running a luxury airline, not a nightclub. She was better suited for… other industries.”
“Other industries?” Thiago smirked. “You mean one with a pole in the middle of the room?”
“Exactly,” Milan deadpanned, though his lips twitched with amusement.
Enzo groaned, leaning forward to pour himself another glass of whiskey. “I’m telling you, this is pointless. We’ve been at this all day, and not a single one of them has even come close to fitting the role.”
“She was nice, though,” Thiago said, a mischievous glint in his eye.
Enzo gave him a flat look. “Nice doesn’t get you halfway across the world while representing a billion-dollar brand.”
“True,” Thiago admitted, his tone more serious now. “We need someone with presence. Someone who commands attention but isn’t trying too hard.”
Milan nodded, folding his arms across his chest. “Exactly. Graceful, confident, professional—someone who can make an impression the moment she steps onto the plane. These girls so far…” He trailed off, shaking his head.
“Forgettable,” Enzo finished for him.
There was a knock on the door, and a middle-aged assistant peeked in. “Gentlemen, the next candidate is ready.”
Thiago groaned dramatically, throwing his head back. “Please tell me she’s not another Instagram model trying to fake her way through an interview.”
“No promises,” Milan said, though his tone was tinged with dry humor.
As the assistant closed the door, Enzo stood, straightening his jacket. “I’ll just head out because this isn’t getting any better.”
“Quitting already?” Milan teased.
“I’m sparing myself the disappointment,” Enzo gruffed, heading toward the door.
But just as his hand reached for the doorknob, the door swung open.
The room fell silent as the woman stepped inside. She was a vision, her presence captivating from the moment she crossed the threshold. A black sheath dress hugged her figure elegantly, professional yet impossibly alluring. Her blonde hair fell in soft waves around her shoulders, and her almond-shaped brown eyes scanned the room with a quiet confidence that was neither forced nor timid.
Enzo froze, his hand still on the doorknob.
Milan’s eyes widened slightly, and even Thiago, who had been on the verge of cracking another joke, sat up straighter in his chair.
For a moment, no one spoke.
Then, as if on cue, all three men said in unison:
“Oh, I think we found her.”