Say Yes

Some decisions creep up on you quietly, almost politely, giving you time to adjust to the idea. Others stand before you like an unexpected visitor, knocking insistently at your door, demanding to be answered.

This one had been lurking in the background for months—yet had grown louder in recent weeks. Should I stay in my current job, with all its stability and predictability, or should I step into the unknown and accept a new challenge?

On paper, the answer ought to have been simple. My present role offered good working conditions, a calm environment, and a dependable salary. It was the kind of job my parents would describe as “sensible” and “secure”. But there was no room for growth. No promotion, no pay rise. I’d been told quite directly: “This is as far as you’ll go.”

I told myself to be grateful—and I was. Grateful for the certainty, for the quiet office, for the freedom from chaos. Yet gratitude sat uncomfortably alongside something else: a quiet, insistent longing. I wanted to try for something more, to test my limits, to step beyond the neat lines of what I already knew.

And yet, every time the thought rose to the surface, I pushed it down again. My family didn’t help. They loved me, of course, but they couldn’t understand why I would risk what they considered a perfectly good situation. “You’re asking for the moon on a stick,” my mother would say, her tone somewhere between worry and exasperation.

But my heart was already elsewhere. I wanted to work in a holistic center, advising and guiding people. For years, the holistic approach to living and healing had fascinated me. I’d devoured books on nutrition, meditation, and alternative therapies. I’d sat through countless free webinars, saving up for the occasional paid course. I didn’t just want to know the theory—I wanted to live it, breathe it, and share it.

Then, one day, the opportunity appeared: a vacancy for a Senior Consultant at Health&Benefit, right here in my city. I told my parents, my voice light with excitement, expecting at least a flicker of approval.

Instead, I was met with pursed lips and careful words.

“It’s all very well, darling, but you’ve a steady job now. Don’t get carried away. Keep your feet on the ground,” my father said.

“We just don’t want you disappointed,” my mother added, as though cushioning a blow.

I understood them. They had built their lives in a time when security was rare and hard-earned. They had taught me resilience, self-reliance, and skills I’d carry for life. For that, I was grateful. But their vision of the world was shaped by scarcity; mine, by possibility.

Still, knowing that didn’t make the decision any easier. I thought about change for weeks, circling it like a wary animal. And then, on an otherwise ordinary Tuesday evening, something shifted.

________________________________________

The day had been unremarkable—meetings, emails, the slow hum of office life. By the time I left work, my mind was heavy with the weight of indecision. I drove the familiar route home, the kind of journey you can do on autopilot.

And then I hit the red light.

It was just a junction. I must have stopped there hundreds of times. But that day, in the space between my car and the row of vehicles opposite, a street performer stood, juggling clubs and balls with extraordinary skill.

The air was thick with the usual sounds of rush-hour traffic—engines idling, the occasional blast of a horn. Yet the man’s movements were calm, almost meditative. He shifted his weight from heel to toe, clubs spinning through the air in smooth arcs, balls looping gracefully before landing neatly in his hands.

It was like watching a dance without music.

Out of habit, I rolled down the window, expecting to hear a backing track—something jaunty, perhaps, or slow and elegant. But there was nothing. Just the rhythm of his movements and the background hum of the city.

I found myself leaning forward, captivated. As a recreational dancer, I knew precision when I saw it. His posture was perfect, his timing impeccable. It wasn’t a performance thrown together for loose change—this was artistry, honed over hours of practice.

When he finished, he began walking slowly between the cars, palm outstretched, thanking each driver with a nod or a smile. I reached into my bag for a few coins—one- and two-euro pieces I kept for just such moments.

When he reached me, I dropped the coins into his hand and looked up.

And there it was: the kind of face that makes you forget what you were about to say. Beautiful, in a way that felt both startling and completely natural.

“Thank you, young lady… say yes,” he said, in a voice that was soft yet certain.

The words caught me off guard. Say yes? To what? And yet, the way he said it—gentle, deliberate, as though it was both a gift and a command—made something in me stir.

I smiled without meaning to. Before I could speak, the light turned green. A horn blared behind me, jolting me back to the present. When I looked again, he was gone, melting into the crowd.

I drove off, lifting my hand in apology to the impatient driver behind me. But my mind wasn’t on the road. It was turning those two words over and over.

________________________________________

The phone rang, breaking through my thoughts. I tapped the CarPlay control.

“Hello?”

“May I speak with Miss Audrey Herrera?” The voice was female, gentle, professional.

“This is she,” I replied.

“I’m calling from the Health&Benefit platform. Do you have a moment?”

My heart skipped. “Of course,” I said, trying to keep my tone even.

“We’re currently in the process of selecting a Senior Consultant for our Well&Done program. We’ve received a recommendation from Mrs. White, who mentored you in your last three courses. We’d like to invite you for an interview. Would you be available this week?”

And there it was—the moment, the question, the opening I had been hesitating over for months. The first thing that flashed into my mind was the man at the junction. Say yes.

“Thank you for the invitation,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt. “I’m free on Friday—would that suit you?”

She agreed. The interview was set.

________________________________________

I thought about the street performer all week. How a stranger could look at you for three seconds, speak two words, and alter the course of your thoughts entirely.

Friday came. I wore my best navy dress, the one that made me feel as though I belonged anywhere. The interview went well—better than I had dared hope. I left the Health&Benefit offices with a quiet certainty: whatever happened, I had made the right choice.

Weeks later, I still haven’t seen him again, though I’ve glanced at that junction every time I’ve passed. Perhaps he’s moved on to another city. Perhaps he was never meant to be more than a moment in my life.

But his image remains: a boyish face, eyes the colour of amber, a smile that held something both playful and knowing. And his words, which arrived at precisely the right time:

Say yes.