HELPMaxwell’s POV The evening arrived quietly, slipping into the restaurant like a familiar guest. The sun had already lowered itself beyond the horizon, leaving behind a dim orange glow that clung to the windows like fading warmth. The atmosphere inside the restaurant shifted with the night. The crowd grew thicker. The laughter became louder. The plates clattered more frequently, and the voices of customers blended into a restless hum that filled every corner of the space.My body, however, had begun to protest.My legs felt heavy, as though stones had been tied to my ankles. My back ached from constant movement, and my fingers were sore from gripping trays and writing orders repeatedly. Yet I did not complain. I could not complain. Fatigue was now part of my life, just like grief. Just like hunger. Just like the bitter memory of what I once had.I had been running around for hours, taking orders, serving food, apologizing for delays, cleaning tables, and forcing smiles even when m
Last Updated : 2026-02-16
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