She had made sure of that.
The lunch rush passed in a blur of orders and clattering dishes. Her feet ached by midday, and a dull ache settled in her lower back like a warning. She didn’t slow down.
Slowing down invited questions.
Questions led to consequences.
During a brief break, she slipped outside and called her mother in the village.
“Mama, how are you feeling today?” she asked, forcing brightness into her voice.
“I’m fine,” her mother replied, but the slight wheeze betrayed her. “You sound tired, my child.”
“I’m just working,” Wanji said. “I sent some money yesterday. It should arrive by evening.”
There was a pause, heavy with things her mother knew but didn’t want to name.
“You shouldn’t be carrying everything alone.”
Wanji closed her eyes. “I’m not,” she lied gently. “I’ll come visit soon.”
She ended the call before her voice could crack.
Her mother didn’t need to carry Wanji’s truth too.
Inside, Esther was waiting.
“Tonight you’ll be on the VIP section,” Esther said, flipping through the reservation book.
Wanji looked up sharply. “I usually don’t.”
“Are you refusing?” Esther raised an eyebrow, already building the trap.
“No,” Wanji said quickly. “I’m just surprised.”
“Don’t be,” Esther replied. “They tip well… if you don’t mess it up.”
Wanji nodded, though tightness formed in her chest.
The VIP section was unforgiving. Wealth magnified entitlement. Mistakes were not tolerated, especially from someone like her.
As afternoon stretched, the restaurant transformed. Candles. Polished glassware. Low music. Expensive perfume that clung to your clothes long after you left.
Wanji adjusted her uniform one last time, smoothing fabric over her stomach.
Just another shift. Just another night.
But fate had already stepped into the room.
She heard the voice before she saw him.
Deep, controlled, familiar in a way that felt like stepping on glass you didn’t know was there.
Laughter near the VIP area.
