"Hm..." Kaija hummed absently, her eyes drifting toward the ceiling as though the entire conversation bored her to death.
"Maybe you can just say you've been with Niklas for four years now, and…" She paused, grimacing faintly. "Let's say maybe all this time he only pretended to be with me because— uh…" Her nose wrinkled. "Man, I'm so dull when it comes to lies."
Kaija rubbed at her temple.
"Ahem. Alright. Let's say you were scared your parents would reject Niklas because he was just some normal nobody instead of some rich heir, so you decided to hide the relationship."
She frowned deeper, thinking.
"But then…" Her face twisted. "You had too much fun during sex— no, wait, that sounds horrible."
Marja let out a startled noise somewhere between a sob and a laugh.
Kaija waved a hand dismissively. "Whatever. Just say an accident happened. Boom. Pregnant. Now you have to tell them the truth."
Silence fell.
Marja stared at her as though she had just witnessed a miracle unfold in real time.
"But… but…" Marja whispered, eyes glossy. "Kaija… are you really okay with that?"
Kaija gave a small shrug.
"Well, that's my best shot at lying this whole shit out." Her voice stayed flat, emotionally detached in a way that almost felt cruel. "Got any better ideas than that, genius?"
Marja lowered her gaze to the table.
The apartment was painfully quiet except for the soft hum of the air conditioner and distant city traffic leaking through the windows. Kaija watched her former best friend think, watched her lips tremble slightly while her fingers twisted together in her lap.
Finally, Marja nodded weakly.
"I'll say what you told me," she murmured. "I'll convince Niklas to say the same."
Kaija immediately snapped her fingers once against the couch armrest.
"Good. Then do all the talking first and see how it goes." She stretched her arms over her head with a tired groan. "Now are we done yet? This therapy session is stretching a little too long now, my dear friend."
The word friend came out like ice scraping over glass.
Marja visibly flinched.
"Thank you so much, Kaija." Her voice cracked. She reached across the table instinctively, fingers trembling toward Kaija's hands. "I… I don't know what to sa—"
"Just don't."
Kaija stood before Marja could touch her.
The abrupt movement made the chair legs scrape sharply against the floor.
"Don't say anything." Her tone dropped colder. "I'm tired. Can you leave now? I need to rest."
At once, Marja's face crumpled into that same wounded expression she had worn all evening. Like a kicked puppy. Like she still somehow believed there was something left here worth saving.
For one dangerous second, guilt flickered through Kaija's chest.
Then she remembered the photographs.
The kissing.
Niklas's hands on her.
That guilt died instantly.
Reluctantly, Marja rose from the chair and walked toward the front door. She slipped her heels back on slowly, shoulders slumped beneath the weight of shame.
At the doorway, she turned back one last time.
Those deep blue eyes lingered on Kaija's face with a desperate, apologetic softness.
Kaija looked away first.
A second later, the door clicked shut.
Silence.
Heavy, blissful silence.
"Jeez, finally," Kaija muttered, dragging a hand through her messy black hair before collapsing backward onto the couch.
Her entire body felt hollow.
'Did she seriously expect us to go back to normal after this?'
The thought almost made her laugh.
Instead, she pulled out her phone and opened the first dumb mobile game she saw. Bright colors flooded the screen. Matching candies. Explosions. Coins. Stupid little victory jingles.
Anything to drown out the mess in her head.
Anything to avoid thinking.
Because the moment she stopped distracting herself, reality clawed right back in.
Niklas.
Marja.
The cheating.
The flight incident.
Her suspension.
The possibility that her entire career was hanging over a cliff edge.
So Kaija kept tapping the screen until her eyes burned.
And somehow, the rest of the week crawled by exactly like that.
Slow.
Heavy.
Miserable.
Then Monday morning arrived.
Kaija was still half-buried under her blanket when her phone buzzed against the nightstand.
She grabbed it lazily, expecting spam mail or some useless airline update.
Instead, her sleepy eyes landed on the subject line.
Employment Contract Termination Notice.
For several seconds, her brain refused to process the words.
Then she opened it.
Dear Kaija Sepala,
[Some irrelevant niceties.]
After careful consideration, Starlight Airlines has decided to nullify your employment contract due to your incompetence during operations, which has caused considerable damage to the company.
You are required to immediately visit headquarters to return your uniform and all company assets to complete the contract termination process.
[More irrelevant niceties.]
Kaija stared blankly at the screen.
Then tossed the phone onto the bed beside her.
"Hm. Wonderful."
Her voice sounded dead.
She rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling above her tiny apartment.
'Okay. Let's do math.'
"If I starve myself starting now," she mumbled aloud, "maybe I can afford rent for another two months."
Her eyes drifted emptily across the cracked white paint overhead.
"Oh wait. I might die before then."
A humorless laugh escaped her lips.
"And I still need to send money to Mom by the end of the month…" She rubbed both hands over her face. "Otherwise she'll go insane again."
Her stomach twisted.
"Oh. And the S$50,000 student loan."
That one hit harder.
"What do I tell the bank?" she whispered. "Sorry, I sucked at my job and got fired?"
She grimaced.
"No. That sounds pathetic."
Another long silence.
"Maybe lies would sound better."
Her eyes slowly closed.
"God, I suck at lying too…"
Her breathing softened.
"I basically suck at everything."
And somewhere between despair and exhaustion, sleep swallowed her whole.
—
The next day, Kaija dragged herself into Starlight Airlines headquarters with the company-issued suitcase rattling noisily behind her.
Every step through the gleaming corporate lobby felt surreal.
Five months ago, she had walked into this building feeling hopeful. Nervous. Proud.
Now she looked like a corpse in civilian clothes.
The HR department processed her belongings first.
Uniforms.
Scarves.
Company manuals.
Security passes.
Emergency equipment kits.
The HR staff checked every item with the kind of mechanical indifference reserved for broken machines being returned to a factory.
Then they escorted her into another room.
"There are termination documents requiring your signature," one of them explained.
Kaija suppressed a yawn as she dropped into the chair.
The document stack waiting on the table looked thick enough to kill someone.
Her eyes drifted lazily over the pages.
So many words.
Too many words.
Her brain checked out after the first paragraph.
Across from her sat the HR manager—a sharp-faced woman in her fifties whose smile radiated the exact warmth of a prison warden.
"You wouldn't believe the odds, Kaija dear," the manager commented smoothly. "It's been twenty years since we last had to process a case like yours."
Beside her, the assistant gave a nasty little laugh.
"I heard Flight Safety already added your case into the training program." She smirked. "Hopefully there won't be future incidents like this."
Kaija covered another yawn with the back of her hand while flipping to the next page.
'Cool. I'm educational material now.'
Seeing her utter lack of visible shame, irritation flickered across the manager's face.
The assistant's expression soured too.
Kaija barely noticed.
Her signature crawled messily across page after page until finally she pushed the documents away and rose from her chair.
"Alright," she muttered. "Can I go now?"
"Wait now, Kaija dear."
The manager raised one manicured hand.
"You can't possibly think that's it, do you?" Her smile sharpened. "That you could cause such a catastrophe, get fired, and simply walk away?"
Kaija blinked slowly.
"Sorry." Her voice was sluggish with exhaustion. "I don't quite follow."
The assistant immediately stepped forward, practically vibrating with delight as she placed another thick document onto the table.
"It was clearly stated in your employment contract," she said coldly, "that any employee responsible for operational damages, aircraft damages, or company losses is liable for compensation."
Kaija stared at the document.
More charts.
More legal garbage.
More words.
Great.
She skimmed downward lazily—
Then froze.
Her heart stopped.
S$200,000.
The document slipped from her fingers and slammed onto the table.
Her exhaustion vanished instantly.
"What the fuck?"
Both palms hit the table with a violent bang.
"Are you fucking kidding me?" she exploded. "Why the hell am I paying for that? Wasn't it that drunk psycho who opened the damn door?!"
The manager sneered.
"I thought you were better trained than that, dearie."
Her tone dripped poison.
"You should know aviation law only requires the passenger to pay the statutory fine. The airline absorbs the remaining losses."
She leaned forward slightly.
"And according to your contract, the employee responsible for causing those losses bears liability."
A pause.
"That employee is you, Kaija."
Kaija stared at them.
Actually stared.
Like her brain had short-circuited.
The assistant folded her arms.
"The airline only accepts bank transfer for amounts this large, by the way. No cash." Her smile widened cruelly. "If I were you, I'd start gathering resources immediately."
Then came the final blow.
"You have one year."
Kaija's pulse roared in her ears.
"If you fail to complete payment within that time," the assistant said pleasantly, "the airline will proceed with legal action."
Silence.
Kaija stood motionless beside the table, staring at the numbers again.
Two hundred thousand dollars.
The room suddenly felt too small.
Too bright.
Too hot.
Her chest tightened violently.
'I can't pay this.'
The realization hit with terrifying clarity.
'I actually can't pay this.'