Abby “Karl! Abby! Over here!” Karl and I exchange glances with each other before we decide to head over to the table where Ethan and Gianna are waiting. Despite Gianna’s presence, Ethan’s smile is a beacon of happiness, and I’m glad to see it. Although Ethan was in his coma for the majority of
It’s no different than the night that Karl threw the party at our old home, and seeing someone treat the food—which my team and I so painstakingly prepared—like it’s not even worth tasting is hurtful. The contrast between her and Ethan is striking, and I can’t help but wonder about her true intentio
Karl Abby stands after her interaction with the woman and her children, and her eyes meet mine beneath the colored lights. “What?” she asks with a slight chuckle, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She looks beautiful, her pinkish pale skin and her pearlescent white dress illuminated by th
Abby “Should we head back to the table?” Karl nods his head toward the table where Gianna and Ethan are still sitting. I follow his gaze, taking a moment to watch as Gianna leans over and whispers something into Ethan’s ear. I don’t want to go back, but I know it’s the polite thing to do. “Sur
John and Anton don’t say anything else about it, but I can sense their knowing gazes on me. However, I return my attention to the task at hand: putting out delicious meal after delicious meal. The kitchen turns into a cacophony of noise, and before I know it, I’m hardly thinking about the party at
Karl As I watch Abby disappear into the crowd, the lingering echoes of the music from our dance still resonate in my mind. It’s a strange mix of emotions that washes over me—happiness from the dance, a sense of loss as she leaves, and a tinge of uncertainty about what will happen after tonight.
As the night continues, I can’t help but think about her. She looked so stunning under the party lights, her white dress fitting her perfectly, her golden hair cascading in gentle waves down her back. Ethan continues to chat with me, but my mind feels distant. Finally, I have to excuse myself from
Abby The rest of the night goes by in a whirlwind. John, Anton, and I are like a well-oiled machine, sending out plate after plate of well-received meals. There are a few complaints and dishes that are sent back, but we handle everything in stride. “Abby, table seven sent back their steak,” Dais