chapter 8
The Intern
Chapter 8: Cracks Beneath the Armor
Harper wiped the counter at the diner, her arms aching from hours of carrying trays and balancing plates. The hum of conversation and clinking silverware filled the air, but Harper barely noticed. She moved on autopilot, her body ached from exhaustion, but her mind was a storm of thoughts.
âHarper, table three needs their check,â her manager called.
âGot it,â she replied, forcing energy into her voice that she didnât feel.
She approached the table, her practiced smile in place. The family seated there barely glanced at her as she dropped off the check, their laughter and lighthearted chatter a stark contrast to the heaviness in her chest.
By the time her shift ended, Harper felt like a wrung-out sponge. The tips had been disappointing, and the lingering smell of grease clung to her clothes and hair. She stood outside the diner for a moment, the cool night air stinging her flushed skin, and stared up at the stars.
Her chest tightened as a memory clawed its way to the surfaceâher mother yelling, the sharp crack of glass shattering, and Harper huddling in a corner, trying to make herself invisible. She shook her head, forcing the memory away.
That was years ago. Sheâd survived it, hadnât she?
---
Back in her car, Harper turned on the small dome light and rummaged through her duffel bag. She pulled out a cleanâthough fadedâblouse and slacks sheâd saved for her internship. She reached for the small mirror on her dashboard, staring at her reflection.
Her eyes were red-rimmed from lack of sleep, her cheekbones more pronounced than they used to be. She brushed her hair, tugging at the knots, and stared at herself for a long moment.
âYouâre still here,â she whispered, her voice trembling. âYouâre still here, and youâre going to make it.â
She folded her diner uniform neatly and stuffed it back into her bag, then pulled out a notebook to review her notes for the next dayâs internship.
---
The next morning, Harper stood outside Lexington & Walker, clutching her bag tightly. The buildingâs glass doors gleamed in the sunlight, an imposing contrast to the cracked pavement beneath her feet.
Inside, the atmosphere was as brisk and polished as always. She slipped into her small workspace, avoiding eye contact with the other interns.
Despite the whispers and sidelong glances, Harper kept her focus on her work. She dove into drafting summaries and organizing case files, her sharp mind cutting through the legal jargon like a knife.
But as the day wore on, her exhaustion caught up with her. Her hand trembled slightly as she handed a file to one of the attorneys, who paused to study her.
âAre you feeling all right, Harper?â he asked, his brow furrowing.
âIâm fine,â she said quickly, forcing a small smile.
He didnât look convinced but nodded. âTake care of yourself. This work is demanding, but youâve been doing a great job.â
Harper returned to her desk, her chest tightening. She hated moments like thisâwhen cracks in her armor showed, when someone got close enough to see her vulnerability.
---
Later that evening, Harper sat in her car, her notes spread out on the passenger seat. The soft glow of a nearby streetlight illuminated the page, but her vision blurred as tears welled up.
The truth was, she was tired. Tired of pretending everything was fine. Tired of carrying the weight of her past, her present, and an uncertain future.
But she couldnât stop. She wouldnât.
She leaned her head back against the seat, letting the tears fall silently. When she was younger, sheâd dreamed of a life where she didnât have to fight so hard for every scrap of security. Those dreams had been shattered long ago, but in their place was something stronger: resilience.
Harper wiped her eyes, straightened her notes, and folded her hands in her lap.
Tomorrow was another day, another chance to prove to herselfâand to the worldâthat she was more than her hardships. She was smart, capable, and relentless.
And someday, she would build a life where no one could see her scars unless she wanted them to.