As I stood up to follow him, the waitress gently brushed past me and leaned in, her voice low but firm.
“I did it on purpose,” she said. I blinked, confused. “What do you mean?” She looked at me with quiet urgency. “I saw him here earlier today—with another woman. He was all over her—laughing, touching her hand, acting like she was the only one in the world. Then tonight, he’s doing the same with you. I just… I couldn’t let you go on thinking he’s a good man.” For a second, I didn’t know what to say. Part of me wanted to ask him, confront him, demand an explanation. But then I realized—I didn’t need one.
Sometimes, the truth comes in strange ways. That waitress, a complete stranger, saw through his mask and had the courage to speak up. And because of her, I walked out of that restaurant with my dignity intact—and without wasting another minute on a man who didn’t deserve me. She spilled the coffee to wake me up. And in doing so, she saved me.