She Was My Nightmare in the Interview Room… and My Mother
I walked into the building thinking this was it—the moment I’d been working toward my whole life. My dream job was finally within reach. I’d prepared for this day for years. I knew I was ready.
But as soon as I stepped into the interview room, my stomach flipped. My breath caught. Because sitting right there, behind the desk, was the last person I ever wanted to see again.
My mother.
My name is Kassandra, and like most kids, I had a dream job growing up. Mine was to become an architect, just like my dad. He used to sit with me for hours, teaching me how to draw, showing me blueprints, and encouraging my creativity. He was everything to me.
He supported me through college, called me before every exam, and cheered every success. But just a few months before I graduated… he died. And when he did, it felt like half of me went with him. He never got to see me finish school, never got to see me step into the career we both dreamed of.
Still, I kept going. For him.
I even moved back to my hometown—a place I hadn’t seen in nearly seven years. It was filled with too many memories, especially of that one house… the one I never visited after the funeral.
I moved back because I wanted to work at the same company my dad once worked at. It had been my goal since I was a little girl. I rented a small apartment not far from the office and began settling in, hopeful that I would get the job.
That night, I couldn’t sleep. I was too nervous and excited. I unpacked boxes until I passed out right on the floor. The next morning, I jolted awake, heart pounding, only to find I still had two hours before the interview.
I got ready, ate breakfast, and made my way to the office. Every step I took inside that building brought back flashes of the past—me running down the hallways to meet Dad, the smell of paper and ink, his laughter echoing through the walls.
I waited outside the interview room, surrounded by other candidates. Some wore suits, others dressed more casually. My heart raced just looking at them. But then I heard my father’s voice in my mind:
“Remember, you’re better than anyone who stands in your way. Believe in my belief in you.”
I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and smiled.
Then a man stepped out of the room. Someone inside called my name.
The voice sounded familiar… too familiar.
I walked in—and froze.
Her.
Sitting behind the desk, flipping through papers like she belonged there.
“Linda?! What are you doing here?!” I shouted.
She looked up and blinked. “Kassandra…”
“I thought maybe it was someone with the same name,” she said quietly, like this was all some awkward coincidence.
I stared at her, heart pounding. “I’ll ask again—what. are. you. doing. here?!”
She looked down. “I work here…”
My blood boiled. “How dare you?!” I shouted.
“Kassandra, let’s calm down. People are watching. At least close the door,” she said.
“I don’t want to calm down!” I yelled. “Let everyone hear what kind of person works here! How dare you work in the building where he worked?!”
“Let’s talk about this somewhere else. Or at least let me conduct the interview—”
“I’m not discussing anything with you! You’re immoral! You killed my father!”
“I didn’t kill anyone!” she snapped back. “Your dad had a heart attack.”
“Because of you! He died alone while you were cheating on him in a hotel!”
“This man is now my husband, so I’d appreciate if you’d stop.”
“Oh, that makes it so much better?! I can’t believe you have the audacity to sit here!”
“Kassandra,” she said firmly, “it’s just a job.”
“No. It’s not just a job. It’s the company where Dad poured his life into. And you—you—don’t belong here.”
“If I really killed him,” she asked, “why am I not in jail?”
“You don’t even have an ounce of guilt,” I said bitterly.
“I just want to explain—”
“You don’t deserve to explain!” I snapped. “You cheated on him, left him alone, and now you’re sitting in his place?!”
“I’m not even an architect! I’m HR!”
“That still doesn’t give you the right!”
“Your father would’ve wanted—”
“You don’t know what he wanted! You betrayed him!”
Just then, a man poked his head into the room. “Linda, should I call security?”
“Don’t bother,” I said through clenched teeth. “I’ll leave on my own.”
I stormed out of the building. As soon as I reached my car, the tears came. I cried so hard I could barely see. That woman had managed to ruin everything again—my memories, my dreams, my life.
I couldn’t stop thinking about that phone call—when Mom called me at the dorm to tell me Dad was dead. How I later learned she’d been in a hotel with another man at the time. How I screamed that she was to blame. And how I never spoke to her again after the funeral.
I drove home in a daze, walked in, and started pacing. Should I pack my things again and move out? I couldn’t stay here. I couldn’t work in the same building as her.
Then, right before sunset, a knock.
I opened the door—and there she was.
I slammed it shut in her face.
“Kassandra, please… let’s talk,” she begged through the door.
“I have nothing to say to you,” I snapped.
“How did you even find me?”
“I work in HR. It wasn’t hard,” she replied. “By the way, you’ve been accepted.”
“What?! How can I be hired when I didn’t even have the interview?!”
“I know what you’re capable of. No one else would be better than you.”
“I don’t want your charity!”
“It’s not charity. Just take the job.”
“I’m not going to work there. Take your offer and leave!”
Then her voice turned quiet but sharp.
“Are you really going to give up the job you’ve dreamed of your whole life?”
I yanked the door open, furious. “What do you know about what I want?!”
“I’m still your mother,” she said. “I raised you. I am your family.”
“Then why didn’t you think about that when you were cheating while Dad was dying?!”
“Because we were getting a divorce!” she shouted back.
“Don’t lie to make yourself look better,” I snapped.
“It’s the truth!” she yelled. “Your father and I hadn’t lived together for three months. I only came to the house when you visited.”
“Why am I only hearing this now?!”
“Because we were afraid. We didn’t want to ruin your image of your dad. But I can’t hold it in anymore.”
“You’re lying.”
She pulled out a folder from her bag. Inside—divorce papers. Dated four months before my dad passed.
“No… this can’t be true,” I whispered.
“We were protecting you. But you’re old enough now to understand.”
I dropped to the floor, still holding the papers. Everything I thought I knew was spinning.
Linda sat beside me. “Your father still loved you. So did I. But I’m tired of being blamed for everything.”
“You should’ve told me,” I said quietly.
“We were just trying to protect you,” she repeated. “And… you didn’t exactly want to hear it back then.”
I wiped my eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” she said softly. “The job offer still stands.”
“Why wouldn’t I want it?”
She raised an eyebrow. “You’ve never stayed in one job longer than four months.”
“I just didn’t like the conditions,” I shrugged.
“You know,” she said, “I always thought this was more his dream than yours.”
“No… I’ve been drawing since I was little,” I replied.
“Because he wanted you to,” she said gently. “You just wanted to be with him.”
And I thought about it. Maybe she was right. Maybe it wasn’t just about architecture. Maybe it was about holding on to Dad.
She stood up. “So… should I wait for the signed offer?”
I hesitated, then said, “Maybe I should think about it.”
She smiled. “Okay. Goodbye then.”
“Thank you… Mom,” I whispered.
And for the first time in seven years, the word didn’t burn my tongue.
