The alarm buzzed at seven but Lily had already been awake since six. The city outside her window was washed in soft gray light. She lay still for a while, listening to the sound of buses and footsteps, the rhythm of people who already knew where they were going. Her chest felt tight but steady. Today she had no uniform, no counter, no register light waiting for her.

Maya knocked on the door. You up? she asked.

Yeah Lily said.

Maya peeked in holding two cups of instant coffee. You need caffeine. You also need to breathe.

Lily smiled. I am breathing. Sort of.

Maya handed her the coffee. The outfit they picked last night was folded neatly on the chair. Simple and clean. Lily changed slowly, brushing her hair with careful strokes. She had never cared much about mirrors before but now every reflection felt like a question. Would they see something in her? Would she?

By nine she was on the bus headed downtown. The seat beside her was empty. Her fingers traced the flyer in her lap until the paper started to wrinkle. She looked out the window as the suburbs gave way to taller buildings. Signs changed from gas prices to fashion ads. Billboards of faces she didn’t know smiled at her like ghosts of who she wanted to be.

At the stop before hers, an older woman sat beside her carrying a grocery bag. She looked tired but kind. You going to work? the woman asked.

Kind of Lily said.

The woman nodded. Well, you look ready for something.

Lily smiled. I hope so.

The woman laughed softly. You never know till you go. Then she got off, leaving the faint scent of soap behind.

The bus dropped Lily near a tall white building with glass doors and a sign that said Bright Agency. People were already lined up outside. Most of them were taller, dressed sharper, moving like they had done this before. Lily hesitated on the sidewalk, feeling her heart climb to her throat. She thought about turning around, catching the next bus home, maybe pretending she had never even seen the flyer.

Then she heard Maya’s voice in her head saying, You’re allowed to want more.

She took a breath and stepped into line. The girl in front of her was talking to a friend about lighting and poses. The guy behind her scrolled through photos of himself shirtless. Lily held her jacket close and tried to keep her breathing even. A woman from the agency came out holding a clipboard. She smiled and handed out forms. Name, age, contact, experience.

Lily stared at the blank space next to “Experience” and almost laughed. She left it empty. When her turn came she walked to the desk, gave her form, and waited. The woman glanced at her and said, You’re new.

Yes, first time.

Okay. Step through those doors, stand in front of the backdrop, and look toward the camera when he calls your name. Simple.

Simple. The word echoed in her head like a challenge.

Inside, the room was colder. White walls. Bright lights. A tall man behind the camera looked up and said her name in a quick tone. Lily Tran, right?

Yes.

Step forward please. Turn left. Look here.

She did what he said. He clicked a few shots, expressionless. Then he lowered the camera and said, Smile, but not too much.

She tried. Her face felt stiff.

Good. You can step back now.

That was it? she asked quietly.

For now, yes. We’ll contact you if we need a second round.

She nodded and walked out, her heartbeat still loud in her ears. Outside the hallway smelled faintly of hairspray. Girls were adjusting their clothes, checking their phones, talking about other auditions. Lily sat on a bench near the elevator. Her hands trembled a little.

It was over in five minutes. Months of quiet longing turned into five minutes under bright lights.

She left the building and stepped into the noon sun. The air was warm, almost too bright after the sterile white room. She crossed the street and found a small café. She ordered a black coffee and sat near the window. Her reflection in the glass looked almost calm. She wanted to feel proud, but she wasn’t sure what she had done yet.

Still, she had gone. She hadn’t run away. That alone felt like something.

When her phone buzzed, she didn’t expect anything. She glanced down and saw a message from an unknown number. Thank you for attending. We’d like to invite you to a callback session next week.

Her heart stopped for a second. Then it rushed back with heat that climbed to her face. She read the message again, afraid it might vanish.

She pressed her palm against the table to steady herself. People walked past the café window, laughing, talking, living their ordinary days. She was part of that and yet not anymore.

She took a deep breath and whispered to herself, barely louder than the sound of traffic, I got a callback.

The words felt fragile, but they were real. She smiled without meaning to. The light through the glass hit her face, and for the first time it didn’t feel like it came from outside. It felt like it came from her.