Ever had a moment when the past barges back into your life uninvited? One minute, I’m wiping tables at the restaurant I call home, the next, I’m staring at Heather Parker — my high school tormentor.
Heather walks in, flanked by her usual entourage, her signature laugh slicing through the air. I freeze, but her taunts don’t sting like they used to. I’m not that insecure teenager anymore.
She smirks. “Still wiping tables? Guess that’s all you ever amounted to.” Her friends giggle, feeding off the spectacle.
Before I can respond, Jack, our sous-chef, steps in. “Hey, you don’t talk to her like that.” Maria and Sarah join him, forming an unspoken wall of support.
Heather sneers. “We’ll just speak to your manager.”
I step forward, voice steady. “You already have. I own this place.”
Her smirk falters as the weight of my words sinks in. My team cheers, their loyalty wrapping around me like armor. Heather stammers, but it’s clear — the game’s over.
As she leaves, my heart feels lighter. I’ve won a battle I didn’t know I was still fighting.
Karma? Served with a side of justice.