Your Table Is Ready Novels & Stories

There, in front of her, was Xander—standing proudly beside a beautifully set table, his eyes bright with anticipation. The table was more than just dinner; it was a gesture, a work of care and thoughtfulness. Candles flickered gently, their soft glow dancing on the delicate tablecloth. The wine glasses sparkled, and the meal—elegantly prepared—sat invitingly in the center. Scarlett could feel the effort he’d put into it, and it made her heart swell.

“Anything else I can get you?” “Thanks, Sofia but I think we’re good for now,” Maggie answered. “You go ahead and get ready to cash out once the Everhart table is done. It’s almost time to close.” “Thanks, boss! See you bright and early!” Sofia grinned and her shiny, black ponytail whipped around as she turned to go.

Not the comfortable kind of silence, but the heavy, sharp-edged kind that seemed to sit on everyone’s shoulders. The table was laid out in its usual grandeur. Silver trays steamed with fresh yam porridge, grilled plantains, fluffy scrambled eggs, and freshly baked rolls. A glass jug of zobo rested beside a ceramic teapot still releasing wisps of heat. The cook had done her part, but appetite was not something anyone had brought to the table.

- So, thank you very much Lailah. -You're welcome ...- she says a little uncomfortable- Where could I leave this?- she asks, lifting the trays. Scott finally realizes that he is holding them all the time and reacts. -On that table over there- He says pointing to the small new wooden table where my leg is resting- You may have noticed that I don't have a dining room It is only this that you see- he murmurs looking around, proud of his shitty floor.

It is ready. The kitchen table is set. Two plates. Two glasses. A small candle in the middle. Lit. The candle is the kind of thing that is going to make me want to cry, except I am not going to cry, because I am a person who is on a Tuesday date, and Tuesday date people do not cry, Tuesday date people eat pasta.

At school, I had a nickname. They called me "Mister Wait-Your-Turn." I waited for the sneakers my brother had grown tired of, the backpack my sister thought was ugly, and the phones my parents had already cracked the screens of. Even when it came to taking a shower, I had to wait until everyone else was done. A week ago, Mom had promised me, "On the day of your college entrance exam, you won't have to wait your turn for the shower." So when I finally stumbled into the bathroom, drenched in sweat and smelling awful, I thought my turn had finally come. I was halfway through working up a lather when someone started pounding on the door. "Come out. Let your brother go in." My eyes stung,

I was expecting to see at least someone at the table and there was only one plate. “ Alpha Cronus is out of the pack and won't be back until tomorrow,” Zoe says as she walks over to the table with a bowl. I furrowed a brow as I wondered why the name sounded familiar. “ Have a seat, I'm sure you will love what I made.” She says with a warm smile but I don't move a step. My hand kept squeezing the edge of my dress as I stared at the single plate on the table with tears welling in my eyes.

Seeing him so disturbed over the turn of events and how he had even lost his appetite, I began regaining my appetite and was able to sleep well once more. Three days later, I swapped out the report I had collected from the hospital before handing it to Patrick. I told him the reason we hadn't been able to have a child all this time was because he was sterile.

】 【I don’t even need to ask to know whose fans that hater belongs to. 【Hasn’t Jevon started his livestream yet? His fans are so bored they’re coming here to cause trouble.】 【I really want Mia to dig up the old lady’s plum tree and plant it here too.】 Half an hour later, with my assistance, Kane had finished nailing together the table and stools. After using up all the wood, he only managed to make a one-square-meter table and six stools. He flipped the table over and set it upright, but it wasn’t level—it wobbled.

Adeline's POV --- Two hours later I'm back in my jeans and sweater, but my skin hasn't gotten the memo, still convinced it's wearing something that costs more than my rent. Matteo waits by a table covered in place settings, forks and knives arranged with surgical precision, ready to perform a very fancy operation on a salad. I have no idea what any of them are for. "Welcome to etiquette crash course." He gestures to the table. "I'll keep it simple."