Just One Last Embrace

Chapter One

Sophia

I put the glass to my lips; the beer tasted harsh, cold, and sharp, scorching my throat as it slipped down. I wasn't concerned. I wasn't drinking for the taste or the buzz. I was drinking to forget, to block out the never-ending cycle of failures replaying in my head.

It was the last day of the networking event, which was packed with ambitious entrepreneurs. After three days of prospects, contacts, and success stories, here I was, slouched at a table alone, nursing my disappointment.

I remembered the several unsuccessful job interviews and the string of rejections; the offers that weren't rejections were nearly as bad-meek offers that barely made enough money to keep oneself afloat. Offers like "You are not worth more than this."

my stomach turn as I Pour the remainder of the Heineken into my glass and letting a few droplets fall onto the table.

The speakers shared their personal success stories, including how they inherited businesses or received financial support from their parents. Even though they discussed the dangers they took, they always had a backup plan. I didn't. They had been given opportunities. What had I got? Nothing.

If my father's business hadn't been hijacked by that cruel millionaire, I'd be in a completely different situation. I could have taken over, rebuilt it, and expanded it into something larger. But that dream had died along with my parents. Now all I had was shattered fragments of hope and no means to put them back together.

Who was I kidding when I said I wanted to start my own business without money? Nobody wanted to invest in me. Nobody believed in me.

I used to dream big. I believed that an MBA would be the key to unlocking a future in which I was not only successful but also respected. A future in which I would restore the legacy my father had left behind. But all those dreams seemed so far away now. Everything has slipped out of my hold after my father's company was taken away from us.

I wanted to start over. Build my own firm and reclaim the glory that had been taken away. But, how could I? How could I start something from scratch if no one believed in me enough to invest? When each door I knocked on remained closed?

I stared at my empty glass, the cold, crushing emptiness within me growing heavier. 'What's the point?' My chest constricted. 'What am I doing here?'

My black outfit, which had once made me feel strong and capable, now seemed like a joke. A facade to hide the gaping hole where my confidence once was.

The celebration was buzzing with activity all around me. Laughter, music, and clinking glasses-the kind of party I should have taken part in. But I was not. I was invisible.

I observed them-young, wealthy, and connected-people who had never had to worry about failure. They may fail a thousand times and yet find someone to catch them. I had no one. I was all alone.

I poured another glass, the alcohol overflowing over the rim and my hand trembling. I stared at the liquid, wondering if drowning in it would relieve the strangling sensation inside my chest. 'So, what is the point?' I couldn't stop thinking. 'No one even noticed I'm here.

I stood up, my legs shaky, the alcohol already clouding my judgment. 'I'm going to dance,' I told myself, hoping that the movement would help me get rid of my depression. But my body felt strange, heavy, and detached from my thinking. My heart raced, the combination of adrenaline and drink propelling me toward the crowd. Perhaps if I just moved, I'd feel less imprisoned and... lost.