Chapter 12 – "The Unemployment Chronicles"
Rachel found herself smack in the city center, while the Porter Group was conveniently nestled in the suburban maze. Her commute involved a bus odyssey that seemed to last a geological era, but finally, after two hours of traveling, she staggered back home. Her energy tank was running on empty, and she plopped onto the sofa, a human puddle of fatigue.
Bridget, her old college nemesis, had been nursing a grudge against Rachel since the campus days. Her resentment practically oozed out during the interview. So, it came as no surprise when Rachel received an email from the Porter Group's HR department, informing her of her interview failure.
Rachel rose and sauntered over to her laptop, her spirits undeterred. She knew there were plenty of fish in the corporate sea. With grit in her heart and a sandwich in hand, she combed through her emails, readying herself for the next round of interviews. Her stomach, however, had different plans; it growled louder than a bear in a library.
The day had been a whirlwind of interviews, and she hadn't found a moment to eat. She rustled up a sandwich and crunched through it as she continued scrolling through emails. Suddenly, the jingle of keys and the creak of the door signaled Dominic's entrance.
Dominic, in his black jacket and faded jeans, flopped onto the sofa, exhaling a profound sigh of weariness. His gaze landed on Rachel's resume and portfolio, carefully arranged on the table. "Job hunting?" he inquired, taking in her sandwich-munching demeanor.
Rachel, sandwich in her mouth, managed a nod. "Yep, graduated and all. Gotta pay those bills somehow. Want a sandwich?"
Dominic observed Rachel closely. Her simple yet elegant attire hinted at an art background. He couldn't help but notice her luscious lips as she took another bite. "Sure, I'll have one if you've got an extra."
Rachel slid a sandwich in front of him and seated herself opposite. Dominic's eyes caught a pamphlet from the Porter Group beneath her resume. He picked it up, glancing at her. "Porter Group interview, huh?"
Rachel, engrossed in her laptop, finished her sandwich with a final bite. "Yeah, but I didn't make the cut. Some grudges die hard," she replied with a shrug. "One of the interviewers was an old schoolmate, and she's been holding a grudge against me forever."
Dominic nodded, his face taking on a stern, contemplative look. He didn't quite understand why he was probing her, but then again, they were a married couple now, and curiosity seemed fair game. "Did they mention why you didn't get the job?"
Rachel paused, looking up at Dominic. His inquiry puzzled her, but they were in this together, weren't they? "They didn't say much, just that it wasn't my lucky day. Maybe my old schoolmate's vendetta had something to do with it."
Dominic couldn't abide injustice, especially when it affected someone as talented as Rachel. He decided to leave it at that, or so he told himself.
Rachel, after checking out a dozen other companies, began organizing the details of her interview for the next day. She stretched, surveying their compact abode. It might have seemed small, but it held a world of memories, a fusion of their pasts and their present.
The house bore witness to their shared journey, and Rachel decided it deserved some TLC. She embarked on a cleaning spree, determined to make it feel more like home. She collected scattered objects, tidied up shelves laden with memories, and carefully stacked magazines.
As she balanced a towering stack of magazines, she couldn't help but steal a glance at Dominic, who was napping on the sofa. From a distance, he looked like a model from a fashion magazine cover. She contemplated whether to enlist his help; after all, this was his house.
Just as she was mulling it over, Dominic's eyes fluttered open. Spotting Rachel's gaze, he cracked a smile. "You're making me self-conscious with that intense stare. Need any help?"
Rachel swiftly averted her gaze, feigning indifference to his good looks. "Well, you could head to the kitchen and tackle the dishes," she suggested, clearing her throat. "Those plates aren't going to clean themselves, you know."
Dominic, seemingly out of practice, made his way to the kitchen. His tousled hair lent him an air of rugged charm. Opening a cupboard, he contemplated the task ahead, recalling the days when he had helped his mother with similar chores during his childhood.
As Rachel continued to tidy up, she couldn't help but smile at the sight of Dominic diligently tackling the kitchen. Despite the rumors and stereotypes surrounding him, he proved to be a responsible partner who shared the household chores.
With a hummed tune and a revitalized home, Rachel was content. But her tranquility was shattered by a sudden crash from the kitchen. Rushing in, she found Dominic standing amidst shattered china, looking helplessly lost.
"I was just washing the dishes when they, um, decided to go on an adventure," he admitted, embarrassment evident.
It seemed Dominic's dishwashing skills were a bit rusty after more than a decade. Rachel, torn between laughter and frustration, began picking up the ceramic debris one piece at a time.
"I guess you missed the part where you're supposed to rinse these dishes with warm water—twice," she quipped, a mixture of amusement and affection in her eyes.
Dominic, humbled by his newfound domestic adventure, nodded sheepishly. "Noted for next time."
