CHAPTER 4:THE WEIGHT OF TOMORROW

Kayla's POV

Five years had passed since I made the decision that changed my life. Five years and my mom's still living, I never regretted that decision. Whenever my mom pressured on how I got such amount of money enough to foot her hospital bills and settle my late dad's debts, I sneakily dodged the questions with excuses.

I had graduated from college with a degree, I'd used some of my surrogacy money for my education, and the rest, A story for another day.

My transcript boasted strong grades, a testament to my determination and resilience.

But reality had a way of humbling even the most prepared.

The job market was merciless. For every application I sent, there were dozens of rejections. I’d sit at my tiny desk in our tiny apartment, scanning job postings, tailoring cover letters, and refreshing my email inbox obsessively. The few interviews I managed to land all ended the same way—with polite smiles and vague promises to “keep my résumé on file.”

“Your qualifications are impressive,” they’d say, “but we’ve decided to go in another direction.”

It was always the same direction, and it was never mine.

"Kayla, you got this"

This were my convictions that I'd get there someday—a day that I didn't know.

I tried not to let the frustration consume me, but it wasn’t easy. I’d worked so hard, made so many sacrifices, and yet I still felt stuck in place. The world kept turning, but I was spinning my wheels.

In moments of doubt, my mind would drift back to the surrogacy, to the baby I had carried but never held. I wondered if they were safe, happy, and loved. I wondered if Gerald Thompson ever thought about me—the woman who had given him the family he wanted.

The money I’d earned from the surrogacy had been a lifeline, covering my mom’s treatments and helping me graduate without the crushing debt many of my peers faced. But it hadn’t been enough to erase the struggles that came after—My account containing the rest of the money was used for fraudulent transactions and according to my account manager, the account and the money in it was freezed by the government.

Mom was better now, her cancer in remission, but her eyesight had deteriorated to the point where she couldn’t work. I was her primary support, and every rejection letter felt like a failure not just for me, but for her as well.

I picked up odd jobs to make ends meet—tutoring, freelance writing, even waitressing again, though I’d sworn I’d never go back to that life. It wasn’t enough, but it was something.

Still, the question lingered in my mind: When would it be my turn?

When would the hard work, the sacrifices, and the sleepless nights finally pay off? When would I stop feeling like I was always one step away from falling back into the desperation I thought I’d left behind?

I didn’t have an answer. But as I stared at my laptop, another rejection email glowing on the screen, I knew one thing: I wasn’t ready to give up. Not yet. Not ever.

The morning was like so many others—a gray sky, a slight chill in the air, and the nagging weight of another unsuccessful job search. My routine had become second nature by now: wake up early, scan online job boards, send out applications, and take long walks to clear my head and avoid the suffocating feeling of stagnation.

On one of those walks, my eyes caught sight of a flyer taped to a coffee shop window. It was bright and bold, standing out against the clutter of community ads and lost pet notices.

“Nanny Needed: Full-Time Position with Competitive Pay. Experience Preferred but Not Required. Inquire Within.”

My first instinct was to walk past it. I wasn’t a nanny, and I didn’t have formal childcare experience aside from the brief months I spent as a surrogate, where I wasn't even allowed to bond with my child. But then I paused, staring at the words "competitive pay." The thought of a steady income, even if it wasn’t in my field, was too tempting to ignore.

I stepped into the café, It was one of cafés owned by the Thompson's empire. A thought struck me hard, it'd rather not be what am thinking.

The smell of freshly brewed coffee mingling with the sound of quiet chatter. Behind the counter stood a young woman with a friendly smile.

“I’m here about the nanny position,” I said, trying to keep the hesitation out of my voice.

She handed me a small card with an address and a name—Dr. Jenkins Melvin.— junior consultant, Thompson's empire.

My stomach twisted. I heard my intestines growling out of hunger and anger, I looked at my old wrist watch —a birthday present from my mom on my 23rd birthday been last year—she'd say it was a birthday present from her mom on her 23rd birthday too.

I considered walking out, tossing the card into the nearest trash can, and pretending I hadn’t seen the flyer. But curiosity got the better of me, I was going to babysit my own daughter?—or should I say hunger got the better part of me.

The address led me to a gated estate on the edge of town, the kind of place you only see in magazines or on TV. A tall, uniformed man greeted me at the gate, his demeanor polite but firm as he confirmed my identity before letting me in.

Dr. Melvin met me at the entrance, her expression as composed as ever. She was a middle aged woman, a kind best described as rich and comfortable.

“Miss?” she said, extending a hand.

"Kayla Evans" I said while I took her hands in a handshake.

“Thank you for coming. The position is for a live-in nanny to care for a young girl. She's five years old, intelligent, curious, and full of energy. We believe you’d be an excellent fit.”

I swallowed hard, my heart racing. Five years old.I was aware it was the stage of curiosity for children of that age.

My mind immediately leapt to the baby I had carried, the one I had never seen but thought about more often than I cared to admit. Was this some kind of coincidence, or was fate pulling me back into a life I thought I’d left behind? To nurse a child since I couldn't nurse mine?

I nodded slowly, my voice steady despite the storm inside me. “I’d like to learn more about the position.”

Dr. Melvin gave a thin smile. “we've received hundreds of applicants for this position, some passed while some didn't but none has lasted any longer than a week with Laura, Can you do this? Laura's dad would interview you on a set date, If you pass the interview, you can resume working immediately.I'll set up the date for the interview with Gerald and will get back to you" She took her time to explain.

As I stepped out of the sprawling mansion, I couldn’t shake the feeling that my past was about to collide with my present in a way I wasn’t prepared for.

I walked home that evening with cautious optimism fluttering in my chest. It was a rare feeling these days. The possibility of being accepted for the nanny position—especially one in a house like that—felt like a glimmer of hope in what had been a long, dark tunnel.

I clutched the small card Dr. Melvin had given me, reading and rereading the details as though doing so would make them more real. This was the best opportunity I’d had in months, and I was determined not to let it slip through my fingers.