I walked to my office in the back of the restaurant—a small but cozy space with an old desk, shelves full of cookbooks and recipes, and photos on the walls. Photos of the restaurant opening. Of special events. Of my team.
And yes, there were some of Michael, too.
Michael graduating from college. Michael at his wedding. Michael holding a newborn Chloe.
I picked up one of the photographs, the one from his graduation. His smile was huge, proud. I was beside him, smiling too, my hands on his shoulders. We looked happy. We looked like a real family.
I wondered when exactly it had all broken. Was it gradual? Were there signs I ignored, or was it sudden—a change I didn’t see coming?
Probably a little of both.
I placed the photo back in its spot and grabbed my purse. I turned off the office lights and walked out the back door, the one that led to the private parking lot where I kept my car. It was nothing flashy—just a reliable five-year-old sedan. Another example of my choice to live modestly despite having the means to do otherwise.
The cold night air hit my face. I took a deep breath, letting it fill my lungs, cleansing me somehow. The sky was clear, full of stars that glittered like tiny reminders that the world was bigger than my pain.
I drove home in silence. No music, no radio, just me and my thoughts.
I thought about Michael when he was little, how he used to hug me and tell me that when he grew up, he’d buy me a big house. I thought about all the times I sacrificed my own needs for his. I thought about the years of hard work, the sleepless nights, the skipped meals so he could eat.
And I thought about how, despite all of that, I had ended up sitting in my own restaurant, watching him eat lobster while he gave me only water.
I arrived at my apartment, the same small but comfortable apartment where I had lived for fifteen years. Two bedrooms, a modest kitchen, a living room with old but comfortable furniture.
Marleene had asked why I lived like this if I had so much money. The answer was simple. This place was mine. I had earned it and I didn’t need to prove anything to anyone.