“Elle! Get your fat ass to table seven. Now.”
The words hit me like a slap, but I keep my expression blank, refusing to let Damien see the sting. He loves that—loves tearing me down, loves watching me squirm. I know I should walk away, tell him to go to hell, but after five years, it’s a habit I haven’t broken. I still hear the voice of the girl I was at sixteen, the one who believed she was lucky to have him. I adjust my apron, my fingers trembling slightly, and force myself to move. Damien has always hated the way I look. Said I was too fat. He takes every chance he gets to make me feel bad about my body. He doesn’t even bother to hide it anymore. He’s spent the last years making sure I know I’m not enough—not pretty enough, not thin enough, not worthy enough of him. But I stayed, didn’t I? I stayed because every cruel word was wrapped in just enough sweetness to keep me hooked. I stop in front of table seven, and my stomach drops. He’s sitting there, of all places, like this is just another of his twisted games. His suit is sharp, his hair perfectly styled, and his smile—god, that smile. It used to make me feel special. Now it makes my blood run cold. His arm is draped casually around a blonde—a tall, slim, impossibly gorgeous blonde in a tight red dress. She looks like a fantasy, all curves and confidence, the complete opposite of me. Her laugh is loud and bright, her perfectly manicured hand resting on his chest like she owns him. Why does my boyfriend have this bimbo draped over him? But I I knew better than to ask. His malicious smile chills my blood. I should greet them, should ask them what I can get for them, but it’s like I’ve lost control over my body. What is he doing here? And who is the woman with him? “Elle.” His voice is smooth, dripping with venom. “Meet Vanessa. My new girlfriend.” My knees nearly buckle. Girlfriend? Vanessa glances up at me, her bright red lips twisting into a smirk. “Oh, so this is her?” she says, her voice dripping with fake sympathy. “The one you were stuck with for so long? Poor thing. She looks… tired.” My hands shake, but I keep them at my sides. I won’t cry. Not here. Not in front of them. “Vanessa, be nice,” Damien says, though his grin is anything but kind. “Elle’s just… adjusting to the news. We’ve been seeing each other for a while now, haven’t we, sweetheart?” He leans closer to Vanessa, his hand sliding lower on her back, and presses a kiss to her temple. I want to scream, to throw the champagne bucket at his smug face, but my body won’t move. I stand there, frozen, every memory unraveling in my head. The nights I waited for him to call. The times I forgave him when he didn’t show up. The endless promises that I wasn’t enough now, but I could become enough if I just tried harder. Vanessa lets out a laugh that’s as sharp as glass. “I can’t believe you wasted five years on her. Five years. What was it you said?” She tilts her head in mock thought. “Oh, right. That you felt sorry for her. She practically begged you to stay, didn’t she?” Damien’s grin widens. “Something like that.” The tears come then, hot and unrelenting. I can’t stop them. I can barely see through the haze of humiliation, my face burning as their laughter cuts through me. I turn on my heel and walk away, my steps quick and uneven. Behind me, Vanessa’s voice carries, cruel and deliberate. “You think she heard that? Oh, well. She’ll survive. She always does, right, babe? But Oh my God, that stupid bitch really thought you were into her, huh?” I don’t make it far. The back door slams open, and I stumble into the alley, the cool night air hitting my flushed face. My hands grip the brick wall as I take deep, shaking breaths, the tears spilling faster now. Damien. Five years of my life wasted on him. I’d thought the condom I found in his pocket last week was the worst betrayal—that it confirmed he wasn’t faithful. But this? Sitting in my section with her, parading his new girlfriend in front of me like a trophy? He’d planned this. He wanted me to see it, wanted to watch me crumble. God, I’m such an idiot. The door bursts open behind me, and I flinch, expecting Damien—or worse, Vanessa. Instead, it’s my boss, his face red with frustration. “Elle, what the hell are you doing out here? Table seven is waiting for their champagne, and you’re standing here crying? Get back to work or you are fired this instance!” I blink at him, my body frozen again, the humiliation cutting deeper. Of course, he doesn’t care. No one does. I wipe my face with trembling hands and nod, choking out, “I’ll be right there.”
