Years after high school, I thought I’d left my bullies behind. But one day, while working at the restaurant I now own, the past walked right back into my life. Heather Parker, the girl who made my high school years a nightmare, strolled in with her friends, laughing like no time had passed.
I was wiping down tables, helping out a pregnant coworker, when I heard her voice. My stomach dropped. Heather spotted me and immediately started mocking me, just like old times. “Still wiping tables, huh? Guess that’s all you ever amounted to,” she sneered, snapping her fingers at me like I was a servant.
Before I could respond, my team rallied around me. Jack, the sous-chef, stepped in, his voice firm. “You don’t talk to her like that.” Maria, the head chef, joined him, her glare icy. “We don’t tolerate disrespect here.”
Heather rolled her eyes, demanding to speak to the manager. That’s when I stepped forward, my voice steady. “You already are. I own this place.”
A cozy restaurant | Source: Unsplash
The room erupted in cheers from my team. Heather’s face turned red, her confidence crumbling. Jack proudly declared, “She’s the best boss any of us have ever had.” Sarah, the bartender, added, “Maybe it’s time you left.”
Heather stammered, her friends shrinking back. Without another word, they scurried out, the bell jingling behind them. As the room buzzed with energy, I smiled, feeling a weight lift off my shoulders. Years ago, I would’ve done anything to escape people like Heather. Now, I was surrounded by people who respected me, in a place that was mine.
“Karma,” I said, laughing softly, “served with a side of justice.”
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