Elizabeth Sergeevna, or just Liza to her friends and family, woke up at six in the morning to the piercing sound of her alarm, which she’d set to the tune of "Eye of the Tiger"—an ironic choice for a woman who’d felt more defeated than victorious lately. Today was the day: her first day on the job at the big corporate holding company, New Innovation Group, where she’d landed a position as a marketing analyst. After a drawn-out divorce from her husband, filled with months of legal battles and emotional turmoil, Liza decided it was time for a complete overhaul—from her hairstyle to her career. At 38, a mother of two, she looked at least five years younger: a trim figure thanks to regular jogs in the park, well-cared-for skin courtesy of affordable supermarket creams, and a confident spark in her eyes that only comes when life hands you a second chance.
She dragged herself out from under the covers, trying not to wake the kids, but of course, that was a lost cause. From the next room, her son’s voice rang out:
“Mom, you’re up already? I’m awake too. I was up till midnight watching that superhero show!”
Eugene, or Gene as everyone called him, a 12-year-old with a mop of unruly hair and a curiosity that sometimes bordered on sass, was already sitting on his bed, tablet in hand.
“Gene, how many times have I told you to go to bed on time? You know today’s a big day for me,” Liza sighed, stepping into his room and confiscating the device.
“But Mom, there was this epic battle! And besides, you’re always saying life’s a fight, so why not watch how the good guys win?” he countered with that kid logic that always made Liza crack a smile, despite her exhaustion.
Meanwhile, from the other room, Katherine, or Katie, came bounding in—a 10-year-old princess with twin braids and an obsession with anything sparkly.
“Mom, I’ll help you get dressed! I’m a stylist, remember? We drew fashion designs at school, and my teacher said I’ve got talent!” she declared, tugging Liza by the hand toward the closet.
Liza laughed.
“Alright, my little stylist, but no glitter experiments today. I need to look professional, not like a disco diva.”
The kids invaded her room, turning the morning routine into a full-blown circus. Gene pulled out a formal outfit from the closet—a gray pencil skirt and a white blouse—and wrinkled his nose.
“Mom, this is boring. At least add some red lipstick so you don’t look like a math teacher.”
Katie, meanwhile, scattered scarves and necklaces across the floor, offering her commentary:
“This scarf? Nope, it makes you look old. But this one? Perfect! It’s like the one that lady in the commercial wears, the one who’s always smiling.”
Liza stood in front of the mirror, trying on the outfit and reflecting on her life. The divorce from Andrew had been inevitable—he’d always put his career above everything, and she’d grown tired of living in the shadow of his ambitions. Now, with two kids to raise on her own, she needed to prove to herself that she was capable of more than just scraping by on alimony. New Innovation Group seemed like the perfect place: a dynamic company, a steady paycheck, and room to grow. But doubts gnawed at her.
“What if I can’t handle it? What if my coworkers just see me as a mom with kids, not a professional?”
She shook her head, applying light makeup—nothing flashy, just enough to highlight her striking green eyes and cover the traces of sleepless nights.
“Mom, you look awesome! Like a total boss lady,” Gene approved, handing her her bag.
Katie chimed in:
“But take my lucky brooch—for good luck!”
Liza pinned the tiny, shiny star to her blouse, pulling her kids into a hug.
“Thanks, my little helpers. I’d definitely be late without you.”
She quickly whipped up breakfast—oatmeal with fruit, because “healthy eating is the key to success,” as her own mom always said—and sat the kids down at the table. While they ate, Liza double-checked her bag: resume, notebook, car keys. Her heart pounded with nerves—this wasn’t just a new day; it was a new chapter in her life.
“Alright, team,” she said, “Mom’s off to conquer the world. Be good for the babysitter, and tonight you can tell me all about your day.”
Stepping out of the apartment, Liza took a deep breath of the crisp morning air. The city was already stirring: car horns blaring, the aroma of fresh coffee wafting from the nearby café, people rushing to work. She climbed into her old Toyota, turned on the radio—an upbeat song about fresh starts was playing—and headed toward the business district.
“You’ve got this, Liza,” she whispered to herself.
Today, everything changes.