The Queen Without Her King

The air in the interview room was still, formal yet not unwelcoming. The woman sat upright, her posture confident, her eyes steady. She wasn’t nervous, not because the job didn’t matter, but because life had already tested her in far more difficult ways.

The interviewer, a composed man in his forties, glanced through her resume and asked the usual question.

"So, what are your salary expectations for this position?"

Without missing a beat, she replied, “At least ninety thousand.”

He smiled faintly, appreciating her clarity and self-assurance. “Good. Do you have any interest in sports or games?”

“Yes,” she responded with a gentle nod, “I love chess.”

He leaned back in his chair, clearly intrigued. “Chess, huh? Let's continue in that direction then. Which chess piece do you admire the most?”

“The Queen,” she answered with a knowing smile.

“Ah, interesting. Why the Queen? Personally, I find the Knight fascinating. Its movements are unique and unpredictable.”

She tilted her head thoughtfully. “That’s true. The Knight is unique. But the Queen, she carries the spirit of every piece within her. She moves like the rook, charges like the bishop, and even sacrifices herself like a pawn when needed. She's the only piece that can adapt to almost any situation, protecting the King, leading the attack, or falling back in defense. She is strength and grace rolled into one.”

The interviewer was impressed, both by her eloquence and depth. “Well said. And what about the King? What’s your opinion on him?”

Her smile faded just a little. “The King may be the most important piece, but he’s also the most helpless. He can only move one square at a time, and the entire game revolves around keeping him safe. In many ways, he depends on others, especially the Queen.”

The room grew slightly quieter.

Then, with genuine curiosity, he asked, “If you could compare yourself to any piece on the board, which one would you be?”

A pause...

She looked down for a moment, and when she spoke, her voice was softer, almost trembling. “The King.”

He looked surprised. “Really? But you just described the King as weak… helpless, even. Why would you choose to be him?”

She drew in a breath, her gaze now somewhere far beyond the room. “Because once… I had my Queen. My husband. He was my protector, my partner, my shield against the chaos of life. He made sure I never felt vulnerable. Where I moved one step, he moved ten. Where I feared, he stood tall. He was my Queen not in gender, but in essence. He had the strength of all pieces, and he used it to hold me up.”

Her voice caught slightly, but she continued.

“And now… he’s gone.”

The room fell into silence; respectful, heavy silence. Even the ticking of the clock seemed to hush.

The interviewer sat back, visibly moved, then gently clapped his hands together, a soft, heartfelt applause. “That’s… truly powerful. Thank you for sharing that.”

Then, after a moment, he asked one final question.

“Why do you want this job?”

The woman looked up. Her eyes were glistening now, but her voice, though thick with emotion, was steady.

“Because my Queen is no longer in this world. And now… I must learn to navigate life on my own. Step by step. One square at a time. Not as the woman who was protected, but as someone who must protect herself and others.”

The interviewer said nothing for a moment. There was nothing more to ask. The room wasn’t just filled with qualifications or experience anymore but it was filled with a quiet strength, born of love, loss, and resilience.

In that moment, the job interview became something more, a reminder that behind every confident answer, there might be a silent story of courage. A Queen may fall, but even the King learns to stand.