Chapter 1 · First Impression, Last Mistake

The next day after the New Year, my blind date glanced at me and closed the menu.

"Waiter, we won't be ordering," he said.

He'd barely been sitting for thirty seconds, hadn't even touched his drink.

Then he turned and sent a voice message to Aunt Meadow, with the speaker on.

He said, "Meadow, why did you set me up with her? I have a master's degree from a top university and make 150 thousand dollars a year. With her looks, I'd be embarrassed to take her out."

The restaurant went dead silent for a few seconds.

Two girls at the next table looked up at me.

He grabbed his car keys and walked out, his leather shoes clicking on the tile floor.

I drained the lemon water in front of me, the ice knocking against my teeth.

Five days later, his name was on the list for Sapient Tech's spring interviews.

Whether he passed or not, it was up to my signature.

*****

The glass door swung back in front of me. Westin Deleon was already gone.

A cold wind slipped in through my collar, so I zipped my black down jacket all the way up.

My phone buzzed. It was a 57-second voice message from Aunt Meadow.

She said, "Daphne, Westin told me you were way too casual today. Not even a touch of lipstick. He has a master's degree, and he is a project manager at Opulent Group, earning 150 thousand dollars a year!

"And you? You just showed up in a black puffer, like you were off to work the fields. Who'd be impressed by that?"

I looked down at my jacket. My mom grabbed it from an end-of-year sale for about 80 dollars.

She said, "Wear this for the blind date. Keep it low-key, don't draw too much attention. Men don't like women who are too flashy."

Those were her exact words. But I took "low-key" way too far and ended up looking like I couldn't be bothered to clean myself up.

Aunt Meadow's second voice message popped up right after.

She said, "You're twenty-eight this year. If you keep holding out, no one's going to want you. Westin might have a sharp tongue, but he's actually pretty capable.

"He mentioned he's willing to meet up again when he has time. Why don't you reach out first?"

I stuffed my phone into my pocket.

The streets were almost deserted on the second day of the new year, streetlights lighting up the patches of snow.

Across the street, the mall's LED screen flashed big letters, "Happy New Year."

Happy. I thought to myself. It sounded kind of ridiculous.

When I got home, the TV was blasting in the living room.

Mom was sitting on the couch, munching on pistachios. The moment she saw me walk in, her brows knitted together.

"Why are you back so soon?" she asked.

I replied, "We're just not a good match."

"Who says you get to decide?" Mom shot back.

She slammed the remote onto the coffee table, and the pistachio shells flew everywhere.

"Look at his credentials. And you? What do you have?" she snapped.

I crouched down to change into my slippers, keeping quiet.

"How many times have I told you to wear your hair down and put on some lipstick? But you just won't listen," Mom scolded.

I replied, "Mom, he didn't even give me a chance to say anything."

Mom snapped, "Then it's because you don't know how to present yourself! That girl next door, Amy, is two years younger than you, and her kid's already running around. Just look at you."

Her voice kept getting louder. "Daphne, you're twenty-eight this year. In two years, you'll be thirty. Nobody values a woman over thirty."

Those words froze in my chest, like a chunk of ice that refused to melt.

"Mom, I get it," I said.

She snapped, "You know it all, but you never actually do anything!"

I walked into my room and shut the door behind me.

I leaned against the door and sat down on the floor. It was hard and cold beneath me.

My phone buzzed again. It wasn't Aunt Meadow, but the work group chat.

Violet Stanton, my assistant, sent a message: [Ms. Parsons, I've emailed you the interview schedule for the spring recruitment next Monday. There are 23 candidates in total. Please confirm the time for the final interview panel.]

I opened my email and scrolled down.

On the fourteenth row of the candidate list, it stated, "Westin Deleon, 31, applying for Director of Operations. Previous company: Opulent Group."

I stared at his name for a long time.

A project manager at Opulent Group, pulling in 150 thousand dollars a year, was applying for Director of Operations at Sapient Tech.

The Director of Operations at Sapient Tech only made 95 thousand dollars a year.

Why would someone making 150 thousand switch jobs for just 95 thousand dollars?

I turned off my phone screen.

Outside, fireworks crackled and burst, filling the night with noise.

Suddenly, things became a little more interesting.

On Wednesday, a tableful of relatives came over.

Eight of us gathered around the round table, and Mom made twelve dishes.

Uncle Finley was the first to speak. "Daphne, I heard your blind date didn't work out yesterday?"

Before I could answer, Mom let out a sigh. "Don't even get me started. Her blind date said she didn't bother to dress up."

"You really should put some effort into your appearance," Aunt Caroline said, pausing with her fork. "How can a girl not fix herself up? Look at Stephanie. She spends at least an hour on her makeup every time she heads out."

Stephanie sat across from me, giving a small smile but staying silent.

Aunt Meadow showed up too.

She sat down next to me and spoke in a low voice. "Daphne, Westin's got great credentials. He's a master's from a top school, and his family owns two places out on the west side."

I said, "Aunt Meadow, he's just not into me."

Chapter 1

The next day after the New Year, my blind date glanced at me and closed the menu.

"Waiter, we won't be ordering," he said.

He'd barely been sitting for thirty seconds, hadn't even touched his drink.

Then he turned and sent a voice message to Aunt Meadow, with the speaker on.

He said, "Meadow, why did you set me up with her? I have a master's degree from a top university and make 150 thousand dollars a year. With her looks, I'd be embarrassed to take her out."

The restaurant went dead silent for a few seconds.

Two girls at the next table looked up at me.

He grabbed his car keys and walked out, his leather shoes clicking on the tile floor.

I drained the lemon water in front of me, the ice knocking against my teeth.

Five days later, his name was on the list for Sapient Tech's spring interviews.

Whether he passed or not, it was up to my signature.

*****

The glass door swung back in front of me. Westin Deleon was already gone.

A cold wind slipped in through my collar, so I zipped my black down jacket all the way up.

My phone buzzed. It was a 57-second voice message from Aunt Meadow.

"And you? You just showed up in a black puffer, like you were off to work the fields. Who'd be impressed by that?"

I looked down at my jacket. My mom grabbed it from an end-of-year sale for about 80 dollars.

She said, "Wear this for the blind date. Keep it low-key, don't draw too much attention. Men don't like women who are too flashy."

Those were her exact words. But I took "low-key" way too far and ended up looking like I couldn't be bothered to clean myself up.

Aunt Meadow's second voice message popped up right after.

She said, "You're twenty-eight this year. If you keep holding out, no one's going to want you. Westin might have a sharp tongue, but he's actually pretty capable.

"He mentioned he's willing to meet up again when he has time. Why don't you reach out first?"

I stuffed my phone into my pocket.

The streets were almost deserted on the second day of the new year, streetlights lighting up the patches of snow.

Across the street, the mall's LED screen flashed big letters, "Happy New Year."

Happy. I thought to myself. It sounded kind of ridiculous.

When I got home, the TV was blasting in the living room.

Mom was sitting on the couch, munching on pistachios. The moment she saw me walk in, her brows knitted together.

"Why are you back so soon?" she asked.

I replied, "We're just not a good match."

"Who says you get to decide?" Mom shot back.

She slammed the remote onto the coffee table, and the pistachio shells flew everywhere.

"Look at his credentials. And you? What do you have?" she snapped.

I crouched down to change into my slippers, keeping quiet.

"How many times have I told you to wear your hair down and put on some lipstick? But you just won't listen," Mom scolded.

I replied, "Mom, he didn't even give me a chance to say anything."

Mom snapped, "Then it's because you don't know how to present yourself! That girl next door, Amy, is two years younger than you, and her kid's already running around. Just look at you."

Her voice kept getting louder. "Daphne, you're twenty-eight this year. In two years, you'll be thirty. Nobody values a woman over thirty."

Those words froze in my chest, like a chunk of ice that refused to melt.

"Mom, I get it," I said.

She snapped, "You know it all, but you never actually do anything!"

I walked into my room and shut the door behind me.

I leaned against the door and sat down on the floor. It was hard and cold beneath me.

My phone buzzed again. It wasn't Aunt Meadow, but the work group chat.

I opened my email and scrolled down.

On the fourteenth row of the candidate list, it stated, "Westin Deleon, 31, applying for Director of Operations. Previous company: Opulent Group."

I stared at his name for a long time.

A project manager at Opulent Group, pulling in 150 thousand dollars a year, was applying for Director of Operations at Sapient Tech.

The Director of Operations at Sapient Tech only made 95 thousand dollars a year.

Why would someone making 150 thousand switch jobs for just 95 thousand dollars?

I turned off my phone screen.

Outside, fireworks crackled and burst, filling the night with noise.

Suddenly, things became a little more interesting.

On Wednesday, a tableful of relatives came over.

Eight of us gathered around the round table, and Mom made twelve dishes.

Uncle Finley was the first to speak. "Daphne, I heard your blind date didn't work out yesterday?"

Before I could answer, Mom let out a sigh. "Don't even get me started. Her blind date said she didn't bother to dress up."

Stephanie sat across from me, giving a small smile but staying silent.

Aunt Meadow showed up too.

She sat down next to me and spoke in a low voice. "Daphne, Westin's got great credentials. He's a master's from a top school, and his family owns two places out on the west side."

I said, "Aunt Meadow, he's just not into me."