Orders came in a rush, and that helped Emily divert her worries to work instead, although her mind was in a constant state of turmoil since her visit to the hospital.

"Emily," her boss, a petite, framed brunette in her early forties, called. 

"Yes, Mrs. Connor." She turned to face her.

"Quickly, get the order from the kitchen and have it served to the VIP guests."

She nodded promptly. "Okay." 

She went to do as instructed. 

A gorgeous lady with silky, smooth, and waist-length raven black hair, who was dressed in an exquisite corporate gown, was on a seat with an utterly handsome man. 

With a beautifully sculpted face like an exquisite work of art and his mass of rich, golden-hued brown hair, which was smoothly combed back over his head, he was a heightened shade of attractive. His tailored dark gray suits fit snugly to his muscularly built frame, and Emily couldn't help the shiver that coursed through her spine at the sight of him.

Just as well as the lady, he exuded an aura of superiority and affluence about himself.

Emily masked her reaction to the sight of the prominent figures in the VIP dining section of the restaurant quickly as she walked in with their orders.

She set the trolley on the side and braced her shoulders to make an introduction.

The air around the two felt somewhat stiff, as if there was bad blood between them.

Emily wondered why the two of them had agreed to come for lunch together when they had such an unpleasant relationship with each other.

The man seemed to have other interests beside the lady, while it was obvious she was making an attempt to lessen the tension in the air around them by awkwardly having light-hearted conversations, which the man acknowledged with an uninterested nod.

"Good evening," she said. 

The two acknowledged her with a single nod, focusing back on their phones.

She brought the trolley around and began to set the table. She mentally willed her hands to set their orders on the table accordingly and be out of there as fast as she could.

Her chest suddenly felt tight, and she felt goosebumps break out on her skin as she neared the lady's side of the table.

She had trouble breathing, and she felt her hands begin to shake while she tried to set the last plate on the table.

Her breath hitched in her throat, and her chest heaved while she struggled to hold in her sneeze. 

She held in her breath, desperate to be out of the room and rush down to the bathroom to sneeze as loudly as she surmised the sneeze at the back of her throat would be.

She dipped a polite nod to the two and excused herself silently, wheeling the trolley out.

"Excuse me. Replace this," the lady demanded haughtily.

She had been so close to making her escape; the urge was now so heavy that she doubted she could hold it in anymore.

She parted her lips briefly to suck in the air, her chest feeling more constricted with each second she held in her sneeze.

"Ah! Could you excuse me for a minute? I need to step out quickly, please," Emily requested, speaking through clenched teeth.

The two looked at her, adding to her unease.

"Pardon?" The lady furrowed her brows. "Get this off the table this instant and give me a new order."

Emily swallowed. "I understand, Miss, but it's urgent that I step out for a minute." She choked the words out.

Annoyance flashed in her eyes. 

Emily winced in pain, resisting the urge to tug at her chest. "Ah!" she rasped, starved of breath, a heavy sneeze following her words.

The lady shrieked, her mouth turning down in disgust.

"You!" She seethed in fury through her teeth.

Red in the face from embarrassment, Emily sucked in her lip. "I'm sorry. I'm allergic to your perfume. I tried explaining that to you earlier." Another sneeze escaped her. 

She turned her face quickly to the side this time to do that, sneezing into the crook of her arm.

She heard the chair pull back with a screech as she turned her face back to apologize once more, a wince escaping her in shock as a slap resounded across her cheek.

"Harriet!" The man snapped at the lady, as shocked as Emily was by her action.

Emily stared at the lady, the side of her face stinging from the slap.

Tears burned her eyes, and another sneeze threatened to escape her from her proximity to the woman. She gasped for breath, her fingers instinctively clutching her throat.

Her head reeled from being trapped on all corners by the heavy scent of Harriet's perfume.

Harriet raised her hand to slap Emily across the cheek again, her annoyance intensified by her reaction to her proximity. 

The man held her hand in the air. "You heard her," he growled under his breath. "She's allergic to your perfume. Even I had been struggling to breathe from how heavily you've used it on yourself," he chided.

Her hand relaxed in his hold, and she snagged it out of his grip. "I regret meeting you, Nicholas," she seethed through her teeth.

"Trust me. The feeling is mutual," Nicholas returned.

She glared at him and Emily, hissing sharply under her breath, and stormed out of the room.

Emily coughed into the back of her palm, struggling to catch her breath. The scent of the perfume still lingered heavily in the air, even after Harriet was long gone.

"I'm sorry," she said repeatedly, covering her nose firmly with her palm.

"Here." The man extended his handkerchief to her. 

Her lips parted in shock at his gesture. For a man of his status, she expected he would lash out at her for conducting herself poorly in her attendance at them.

She took the handkerchief from him, her hand reaching out slowly in surprise. "Thank you," she murmured through her breath, lowering her gaze again.

She bit hard on her lips, her body tingling in embarrassment as she recalled how heavily she had sneezed in his presence.

"Please. I should thank you instead," he said, a lilt of amusement in his voice.

Emily raised her gaze to meet his. Her breath hitched in her throat as she closely assessed his face. "Pardon?" The manner of breathing suddenly eluded her at her proximity to him.

"I'm glad you helped ruin the date," he told her. "I will have a better excuse to give," he murmured through his breath.

He quickly added to his statement when he noticed the deepening of the flush on her face in embarrassment. "I will handle the situation so it doesn't pose a problem for you, and my apologies for the slap you received."

He counted out some notes from his wallet and extended them to her. "Take care of yourself with this, please."

Emily took the wad of cash he handed over to her dazedly. 

He twitched his lips. "Thanks," he said once more, and he walked out of the room.

Emily accompanied him out with her gaze, still stunned by his gentlemanly behavior.

How could a man be as perfect as Nicholas was? She wondered as her gaze lingered on the exit.

He was handsome, rich, and well-mannered. What other attributes could there be to mark a man as perfect?

She looked at the wad of cash he had given her and the handkerchief, rubbing at the sting on her cheek.

She wheezed an exhale, checking her forehead to see if she had a temperature from inhaling Harriet's perfume.

Thank God, she didn't.

It had all happened so fast, and there hadn't been enough time for her reaction to her perfume to worsen.

She shrugged briefly, silently hoping Nicholas would keep his promise to keep the situation that had occurred with Harriet at bay and not let it affect her job.

She began to clear the dishes on the table, looking forward to meeting with Mrs. Connor and awaiting what would become of her fate once she stepped out of the VIP room.

She finished clearing the dishes, resetting the table, and wheeling the trolley out of the room.

"Emily."

She heard her name being called as she wheeled the trolley to the kitchen.

"Yes, Mrs. Connor," she answered, fidgeting about how she would take the situation.

She had a bad premonition about what Mrs. Connor's response would be.

"May I have a word with you? In my office, please." She swept the air with her billowing skirt as she turned in the direction of her office.

Emily followed behind her, biting nervously on her lips.

"I had a bad review of your service from one of our VIP guests," Mrs. Connor began as they both took their respective seats on the plush seating arrangements in her office. "In fact, she stormed in annoyance in regards to your poor service."

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Connor." Emily apologized, lowering her gaze.

"While what occurred had been explained by her other partner, to avoid further occurrences, Emily, I have to discharge you from your employment."

Emily's gaze fluttered at Mrs. Connor's statement. "But... but," she stuttered.

"No buts, Emily. You never told me about your allergic reactions when you were employed. I was assured you are medically fit. My apologies, Emily, but I have to let you off."

"Please, Mrs. Connor," Emily croaked, a plea in her voice. "I'm at a critical moment as of now. I can't lose this job."

Mrs. Connor flattened her lips, her gaze set unfalteringly as she looked at Emily. "There's nothing I can do. Now, if you would excuse me, I have things to attend to." She gestured for her to rise quickly to her feet.

"You're discharged from your duties as of now. Your wage will be transferred to your account once it is calculated before the end of the day," she told her. "It was nice working with you, Emily."

Emily pressed her lips tightly together, chills snaking through every corner of her body. 

Taking the subtle hint in her last statement, Emily pushed herself up to her feet and walked out of the office.

Her body weighed heavily as she moved out of the office to the dressing room to change out of her uniform and into her outfits.

She raked her fingers through her hair, biting down on her lips to hold in her tears as she walked out of the restaurant. Her gaze lingered on the restaurant''s roof sign as she stepped out of it, a wistful sigh escaping her throat, before she turned away and continued the rest of the way down the road to hail down a cab.

She had lost the job that earned her her most significant income. It hadn't been easy for her to secure the job at the high-end luxury restaurant, and she knew how much and how many years it had cost her to land such a job.

She had neither the luxury nor the time to spare to begin another job hunt for a similar job; that would be if she were to ever be lucky enough to secure another one like it.

She was left only with the exclusive night bar, where she waited in the night. She had hoped she would be able to leave there someday, given the toxic atmosphere that permeated its environment.

But it seemed that wouldn't be happening anytime soon, as she had planned.

A cab pulled down to a halt before her as she reached the road and got in. Thoughts raced in her mind as she was driven to her apartment. 

She had to source the money for Gabrielle's surgery expenses, no matter the odds against her. She ruminated over the possible places and people she could go to and meet with for assistance, falling short of only a few.

She mentally noted to get to work on pleading for the compassion of each of them once she reached home before the time for her resumption at the night bar would be up.

The cab pulled to a stop, and she quickly handed the fare over to the man, alighting from the cab and continuing the rest of the walk down the alley to her apartment.

It was a mini-apartment with a single room, a small kitchenette, and an adjoining bathroom. It was spacious enough to accommodate her and her belongings, and although it looked shabbily furnished, she had done her best to make it out to be decent with the few works and designs she had personally fixed to the walls.

She had gotten it over the years of working her part-time jobs when she was unable to keep up with the rent on the previous more spacious apartment she lived in with her family before her parents's deaths.

She had held on to most of her parents's stuff as a constant reminder of them, but she had had to let go of the others as there was so much her recent apartment could accommodate with her stuff.

She filed through the drawers where she had kept her parents phone book so as to reach out to their relatives.

She hated that she had to do that, but she had no choice. After their attendance at her parents' funeral, they had all lost connections with one another, with everyone busily going about his or her life's business.

Emily had always been one to have an independent streak, but this time, she knew better that she was incapable of handling the situation she was in alone.

Most of the calls went to voicemail, while the limited few she was able to call wouldn't be much of a help as they told her they had more to deal with themselves, apologizing for not being able to help.

She packed the stuff to the side when it was high time she left for her night job, to get back to it the following day, and headed out to her apartment.

The realization that she might not be able to get significant help from her family side gnawed at her as she commuted by bus to her nighttime workplace.

She had trouble concentrating while she worked, thoughts racing spuriously in her head about where else she could get financial help. Tony, her boss, had called her into his office following a disturbance she had caused with her mindlessness.

She knocked once as she reached the door to his office, nervousness creeping down her spine as she stood in the dimly lit hallway connecting his office to the bar outside.

She hated coming to this part of the bar, having gotten an inkling of the depravities that went down on the other side of the bar, which Tony's office bisected.

"Come in."

She heard his order from inside, and she pushed the door in, stepping into the office. 

"Emily." Tony acknowledged her presence as she walked into his office. He leaned back in his seat, clasping his hands over his desk table.

The smell of alcohol and cigarettes wafted pungently in the air, and Emily resisted the urge to cover her nose from how heavily the smell and the smoke burned her eyes and choked the air around her.

"What's happened, darling? I've noticed you haven't been yourself since the time you resumed work today. This is unlike you."

Emily twitched her lips, clearing her voice at the back of her throat before she spoke, while she struggled not to inhale the irritating odor permeating the atmosphere in Tony's office. 

She swallowed hard. "I'm sorry."

"What's going on, Emily? Something's wrong with you. I know that," said Tony, his voice laced with concern.

But Emily wasn't a fool to decipher quickly that Tony's concerns weren't always attached to strings. Strings as foul as the inconspicuous other of his business beneath the facade of an exclusive bar he ran.

"Talk to me."

"I will try not to let my personal issues affect my performance at work again. I beg your pardon this time." She lowered her gaze, silently praying against losing this job as well, although she wanted nothing more to be rid of it had it been she hadn't been retrenched from her employment in the luxury restaurant where she worked during the day.

"Is it money you want, Emily?" Tony asked after a brief silence.

Emily's head shot up against her will at the mention of that, her desperation evident on her face. She considered telling Tony about her situation; perhaps he could loan her years worth of her salary to foot the bills, but it was improbable that it would be as easy as she had thought it to be indebted to Tony.

She pushed the thought quickly to the back of her mind.

"It is money, then," Tony concluded from the expression on her face. "I can give you the money, Emily. How much do you need?"

Emily's lips parted at his words. "You will grant me a loan?" Her voice shook in disbelief.

"No," Tony said, dashing her hopes. "I have a better idea," he said with a crooked grin on his face, his gaze lustfully taking in all of her body.

The hell you do!

Emily silently seethed through her teeth, her fingers balled into tight fists behind her back.

Nicholas rolled his eyes as his mom's call woke him up from his sleep. It seemed she had just gotten abreast of what occurred earlier in the evening at the blind date she had set him up on with one of her friends' daughters.

He picked up the call and placed it on his ear, his eyes half closed, while laying his chest down on the bed with the other side of his face pressed against the pillow.

"Nicholas!" Miranda screeched into the phone, startling him awake.

He held the phone immediately away from his ear, mentally chiding himself for not having foreseen a reaction like that from her.

"Mom," he said calmly.

"You ruined that date again," she bit out each word at a time through her teeth. "I was told the poor girl suffered emotional trauma from her experience with you in the evening and deeply regretted ever listening to her mom or taking up my offer to go out on a date with you!"

"I didn't ruin the date, Mom. It just happened that Harriet's bodily scent got in the way," he explained flatly.

"What?"

"I can't go into the details right now. Perhaps we could get to that later, Mom. I need to get back to sleep, please. It's been a very long day."

Miranda scoffed over the phone, rolling her tongue in her mouth. "Are you dissing me? Nicholas!"

"Mom, please," Nicholas groaned, rolling over to his back.

He held the phone to his ear, releasing an exasperated sigh.

"Okay, Mom. I'm sorry that date got ruined as well, but it's true. It wasn't my fault it got ruined." 

"Well, I'm all ears. Tell me what excuse you have to give this time," Miranda demanded, irritation etched in her voice. 

Nicholas twitched his mouth. "You really should quit doing this, Mom. I have no interest in being involved with any of your acquaintances' daughters, however beautiful they may be."

"What exactly is holding you back, Nicholas?"

"I told you, Mom. I'm not ready for all this. When it's the right time for me, I will do what needs to be done. Stop trying to pressure me into marriage, please."

He emitted a strangled groan as he raked his fingers through his hair.

"Do I need to remind you that you are not getting younger? You are nearing your forties, Nick. This is the exact moment you ought to start making plans for settling down and having a family, son," Miranda told him.

"Your father and I wouldn't have had you if we had been dilly-dallying as you have been doing. Your father and I got married when we were in our early twenties.

Ah! The good old days." Miranda sighed as she reflected on the past.

Nicholas rolled his eyes as Miranda continued to wax nostalgic about her blissful memories with his dad, Richard, since their matrimony.

When Miranda finished her raconteur, Nicholas sighed.

"Do you get that, Nick?"

"Okay, Mom," he replied, his voice devoid of enthusiasm as he wearily rubbed his eyes with his fingers, the motion slow and lethargic.

"Good." Miranda clucked her tongue in approval. "Good night."

Finally. Nicholas stifled a yawn with the back of his hand as he murmured his response, "Good night, Mom."

"And dad too," he added. "I love you," he said, mouthing those words into the phone, holding it over his mouth while he spoke.

"I love you too, son. Good night."

She ended the call, and Nicholas placed the phone back on the side table.

He closed his eyes, willing sleep to take over, but it eluded him.

Hissing through his breath, he switched positions over the bed, annoyance settling in in a few minutes as sleep continued to elude him.

He hated being awakened by calls for this reason. His muscles tensed with waves of annoyance coursing sharply through him.

His mom was right after all. He was aging, and the more he aged, the crankier he got. 

Hell! He definitely needed some time to get laid.

 ****

Emily rubbed her hands nervously as she waited in her uncle's living room. She had stayed up late into the night, exhausting the list of potential family members from either side of her parents that she could seek help from.

She had gotten up early the following morning to meet with her dad's brother. Goosebumps crawled up her skin as she sat on the sofa she had been shown to by his wife upon her arrival.

"He will be here soon," she told Emily softly while she set a tray of refreshments on the stool beside the chair Emily was sitting on.

Emily nodded briefly, offering a polite smile. "Okay. Thanks, Aunt Jeanette."

"The pleasure is mine, Emily," Jeanette returned with a brilliant smile.

She returned to the inner part of the house to continue with what she had been doing before being interrupted by the doorbell upon Emily's arrival.

Emily watched with appreciation as Jeanette left the living room.

Jeanette was a chubby, sweet woman in her early fifties, a stark opposite both in appearance and character to her husband and Emily's uncle, Hank.

She had a warm and inviting presence. Her round face was adorned with rosy cheeks that seemed to perpetually carry a gentle smile. Her eyes, a soft shade of hazel, sparkled with warmth and kindness. Her silver-streaked hair was styled in a short, curly bob, framing her face with a touch of youthfulness.

Hank, on the other hand, exuded an aura of harshness and severity. His tall, lean frame seemed almost rigid, as if he were constantly on guard. His salt-and-pepper hair was meticulously combed back, revealing a receding hairline.His eyes, a vivid shade of blue, held an icy coldness to them that made Emily's palms water at the sight of him. He had lines that told tales of a life lived with a stern resolve etched on his face.

Emily leaped off the chair before she could think, as she sensed his presence in the room.

Her awe of him never thinned with age. She had developed that unease around him from the time she had come visiting with her parents.

Then she was twelve and forward, but her meeting once with her uncle had amended that mischievous side of her.

"Morning, Uncle." She swallowed quickly to hide the nervousness in her voice.

"Emily," he acknowledged briefly, taking a seat on his favorite seat, a leather recliner.

His voice was as deep and grave as she had recalled, unlike his wife's soft one.

He exhaled a contented sigh as he leaned into the chair. 

"What is so urgent that brings you by this early in the morning?" He inquired.

Spotting a neatly folded newspaper on the side table, he picked it up and opened it. The sound of its pages crinkling filled the air as he perused each page briefly before settling on one in the middle.

Emily sucked in her lip ring, twitching a corner of her cheek.

"Uhm! Uncle." Emily puffed air through her nose, her body tingling already in embarrassment from the dismissal Hank's attitude projected.

She smacked her lips and told him in a clear voice, "I need your help, Uncle Hank. I've been told by the doctor that Gabrielle needs to sign up for surgery, and there is limited time to get it done." 

She paused a breath, watching Hank's face.

He revealed no emotion on his face in reaction to what she had said. Instead, he flipped open another page of the newspaper, burying himself in it.

Emily's lips parted as she watched him. She smacked them close quickly, sitting up. "Uncle Hank? Did you hear what I told you?"

He lifted his gaze to meet hers, his eyes still sharp despite his age. "Of course I did. My hearing is intact and untouched by the passing years," he assured her.

Emily nodded subtly, her lips pressed into a thin line, anxiety evident in her eyes. "That's why I'm here, Uncle. I desperately need your help to save Gabrielle," she pleaded.

Hank set the newspaper down on the side table and leaned back, interlocking his fingers over his belly. He took a deep breath before speaking. "Tell me, Emily. How old are you now?"

Emily arched an eyebrow briefly, hesitantly answering, "Twenty-nine."

He nodded, a hint of mockery flickering across his features. "And how many years has it been since you graduated from school?"

Emily's frown deepened. "What does that have to do with anything, Uncle Hank? We need to focus on Gabrielle's situation."

"Focus?" He repeated, his voice tinged with irritation. "Your lack of focus is precisely why you're in this predicament."

"Pardon?" Emily's voice caught in her throat, a chill running down her spine.

"If only your father had listened to my advice back then and married you off to a wealthy suitor immediately when you came of age, neither would you be in this situation nor would Gabrielle's treatment be hanging in the balance."

Emily's mouth hung open at her uncle's harsh words.

A soft gasp echoed in the air, drawing Emily's attention. It hadn't come from her, but from Jeanette, Hank's wife. She set the tray of freshly brewed coffee down, the aroma filling the room as steam rose from the mug.

"That's not a nice thing to say, Hank," Jeanette chided softly.

Hank's face turned red with anger. "Don't tell me what's right for me to say or not, woman!"

Emily choked on her words, watching the tense exchange between her uncle and his wife.

"Hank!" Jeanette gasped, her voice no match for Hank's thundering tone.

"Am I wrong? It's a wasted opportunity for him to have invested so much in your education when he could have secured a wealthy suitor for you years ago," Hank spat out bitterly.

Emily's mouth hung open, a mix of shock and disbelief washing over her. 

"For crying out loud, Hank. This is no longer the middle age or Victorian era. Grow out of that hackneyed mentality of yours," Jeanette seethed through her teeth, frustration evident in her pitch.

"As if." Hank hissed. "You tell me where you ended up with the little studies you had. Could you ever think of living in luxury as much as this if I had not married you?"

The room fell silent, the tension suffocating.

Jeanette stood rigidly, her words caught in her throat, defeated.

Emily couldn't hide her reaction. Her breath hitched as her uncle's words sank in. She realized how fortunate Harris was to be born a boy and not a girl. Under Hank's care, no girl would thrive.

Harris was the only son the two had in their years of marriage, and he was only a few years older than her. It was little to no wonder that Harris had been the only child the two had been able to have from their marriage.

Emily could only hope for Jeanette's sake that Harris didn't take after Hank's character, or else it would be a thorough disaster for Jeanette.

She believed the sweet, old lady deserved more than that.

Hence, she silently thanked God that Jeanette had never given birth to a daughter. Emily couldn't help but wonder how Jeanette had endured living with Hank for so long.

Her mom didn't like him an ounce while she lived, and Emily could relate to why now. Her uncle had a despicable character.

Rubbing her palm awkwardly against her nape, Emily slowly rose from her seat, her lips pressed tightly together. She couldn't bring herself to meet her uncle's gaze or bid farewell to Jeanette. The embarrassment still weighed heavily on her.

She left the room without saying a word, closing the door behind her. As she stepped outside, she realized she had been holding her breath. Leaning against the nearest wall, she released a heavy exhale, wheezing in relief.