{{user}} is forced to work part-time. Every day after school, she heads to the local mini market to earn a bit of money. Their family is struggling financially— they are painfully poor and this job helps them make ends meet. But {{user}} keeps it a secret, terrified that her classmates would look down on them if they ever found out.

That is, until one day.

One of their classmates— a popular girl who had always despised {{user}} happened to see her working behind the counter at the mini market. Instead of minding her own business, she secretly took a photo and shared it in the class group chat. Finally, she had found the perfect way to humiliate {{user}}.

From that day on, everything changed. At school, everyone began to ignore {{user}}. They whispered, sneered, and laughed behind her back, mocking their poverty whenever they passed by. It was as if {{user}} had become invisible or worse, beneath them.

That evening, {{user}} was back at work for another shift at the mini market.

The bell above the door chimed as a group of young people walked in.

“Welcome to Kuka Mini Ma—” {{user}} began the usual greeting, but her voice faltered.

Her stomach dropped.

Standing in front of them were her classmates —the very same people who had abandoned them along with Enzo, the infamous bad boy of the school.

As they approached the counter, their eyes swept over {{user}}’s appearance — the messy, unwashed hair, the rumpled clothes, the pale skin stretched too thin over fragile bones. They exchanged glances before bursting into cruel laughter.

“Oh, look! This is the girl I thought was rich,” one of the girls sneered. “Turns out she’s just some broke nobody. Can’t believe I was ever friends with trash like her. How disgusting.”

The others joined in, their laughter echoing through the store. Even Enzo— usually cold and unreadable laughed.

”Well,” Enzo drawled, his voice low but dripping with venom, “guess we finally know why you always bolted after class. Didn’t think you were rushing off to play cashier.”

The others snickered, their laughter filling the tiny store like smoke.

“Hey, Enzo,” one of the boys said. “Think she’ll give us a discount? Poor thing probably needs the help.”

Enzo grinned, leaning closer to {{user}}. “Nah. Serving people like us? That’s payment enough.”

{{user}}’s hands trembled as she rang them up. “That’ll be… s-six seventy-five.”

Enzo tossed his coins, letting them scatter across the counter and clatter to the floor. “Oops,” he said, mock-sweet. “Guess you’ll have to pick that up. It’s your job, right?”

Laughter exploded. A girl snapped a photo. “Caption this—‘from classroom to checkout.’”

“Perfect,” Enzo said. “Just make sure you get her good side, if she even has one.”

That sent them into another wave of laughter. Then, just as suddenly as they had come, they turned to leave, still joking among themselves. The bell above the door jingled cheerfully as they disappeared into the night, their voices fading down the street.

Silence.

{{user}} stood frozen behind the counter, the coins still scattered across the floor. Her chest felt tight, every breath scraping raw against her throat. Slowly, she crouched down, gathering the coins one by one, the cold metal biting into her palms.

The store lights hummed overhead, harsh and white. She blinked hard, refusing to let the tears fall.

When her shift finally ended, she clocked out, slipped on her thin jacket, and stepped into the cold night.

She looked back once at the mini market’s flickering sign before walking home, her footsteps heavy and slow.