CHAPTER 2: The Photograph in Her Hands
CHAPTER 2: The Photograph in Her Hands
The waitress’s breath shook.
Her eyes filled, not with defiance—but exhaustion.
She slowly reached into her apron.
Her hands were trembling so hard she almost dropped it.
A photograph.
Crumpled.
Folded at the edges like it had been held too many times in fear.
“I… I wasn’t trying to…” she began.
But her voice broke.
The wife scoffed.
“Now what? Another excuse?”
The waitress looked down.
Then gently placed the photo on the table.
“I just… wanted to work.”
A few guests shifted uncomfortably.
But no one defended her.
Because in rooms like this—
silence was easier than truth.
The husband frowned slightly.
Then something about the photograph caught his attention.
He stepped forward.
Slowly.
“Where did you get this?” he asked.
The waitress didn’t answer.
Her lips trembled.
“I didn’t choose it,” she whispered.
May you like
That was when he reached for it.
And everything changed.
