Have you ever had one of those moments when the past barges right back into your life, completely uninvited? One second I was wiping down tables at the restaurant I now call home, and the next—I was staring straight into the eyes of the girl who once made my high school years a living nightmare.
Let me set the scene. I was just doing my usual routine, cloth in hand, cleaning tables at our small but cozy restaurant. The kind of place where the smell of fresh coffee hugs you the moment you step inside. Our regulars come so often they know our names, our favorite orders, and half of our life stories. It’s more than just a restaurant—it’s a family.
That day, I was helping out more than usual. Beth, one of our waitresses, wasn’t feeling great. She’s pregnant—glowing and beautiful—but earlier she had fainted, and we all insisted she sit and rest. Around here, when one of us needs help, the rest step in without question. That’s just how we are.
So there I was, scrubbing down a table in the back, lost in the steady rhythm of the work, when I heard it. That sound. Laughter. Not just any laughter—the sharp, cruel kind that can transport you right back to high school. My stomach twisted before I even looked up, because I knew. I just knew.
And sure enough, it was her.
Heather Parker. The queen bee herself. The girl who ruled the halls of our high school with her perfect hair, flawless smirk, and a sharp tongue that cut me down every chance she got. And as if the universe hadn’t tortured me enough, she was flanked by her two loyal sidekicks, Hannah and Melissa.
It felt like stepping into a time machine. Everything about them—the way they walked in like they owned the room, the mocking whispers, the fake giggles—it was all the same. My chest tightened. Memories flooded back: the way they mocked my clothes, laughed at my hair, or sneered whenever I dared to talk about my dream of leaving town and making something of myself.
I froze. My cloth hung in mid-air, and I stood there like a deer caught in headlights. They hadn’t spotted me yet, but I could already feel that old, familiar burn creeping up the back of my neck.
Then I heard it.
“Hey, isn’t that…?” Heather’s voice trailed as her eyes scanned the room.
Please, not me. Please.
But of course, her gaze landed right on me. That same wicked smile spread across her face—the same one she wore before tearing me apart in front of an audience.
“Well, well, well. Look who we have here,” she said, loud enough for the whole restaurant to hear. “Still wiping down tables, huh? Guess that’s all you ever amounted to.”
Her laugh rang out, fake and sharp, and her friends cackled as if she had just delivered the line of the year.
My cheeks burned, but I forced myself to keep wiping the table. I wasn’t that scared high school kid anymore. Not even close.
But Heather kept going, her words like venom dripping from her lips. “Is this what you dreamed of back in high school? Cleaning up after people who actually did something with their lives?” Her eyes swept over me like I was worthless. Hannah and Melissa nudged each other, giggling like it was comedy night.
And then—she snapped her fingers at me. Like I was some dog.
“Hey, waitress!” she called out, her smirk widening. “Think you can at least get us some water? Or is that too advanced for you?”
My heart thudded in my chest, a mix of anger and humiliation rising fast. I opened my mouth to say something, but before a single word came out, I heard heavy footsteps behind me.
Jack.
Our sous-chef, built like a wall, came striding out of the kitchen. His arms crossed, his jaw set, his eyes sharp as steel. “Hey,” he said, his voice calm but carrying a dangerous edge. “You don’t talk to her like that.”
He stepped beside me, his presence like a shield. For the first time since Heather walked in, I didn’t feel alone.
And then Maria, our head chef, joined us. She wiped her hands on her apron, her face stormy. “If you’ve got a problem, take it somewhere else,” she said firmly. “We don’t tolerate disrespect here.”
For just a moment, I saw something flicker in Heather’s eyes—surprise. But then she rolled her eyes and scoffed. “Oh, please. We’re just being honest. Isn’t it a little sad? She’s hit rock bottom, and you’re defending her?”
Jack didn’t flinch. Not even a blink. “She works harder in a single day than you will in your entire life,” he said, his voice low but steady. “Now do you want that water, or are you done embarrassing yourself?”
By then, the rest of my team had gathered, standing tall beside me. Sarah, our bartender, walked up with a rag in her hand, her eyes locked on Heather.
“We don’t tolerate that attitude in here,” Sarah said firmly. “If you can’t show respect, you can take your business elsewhere.”
Heather let out an exaggerated sigh and smirked like she had a secret weapon. “Fine. We’ll just speak to your manager,” she said smugly, certain she’d won this little game. Her friends nodded, all too happy to watch me get crushed.
But that was the moment I decided I’d had enough.
I straightened up, wiped my hands on my towel, and stepped forward. My voice was steady when I said, “You already have.”
Heather blinked. Her smirk faltered. “What?”
“I’m the manager,” I said, letting the words sink in. Then I added, “Actually, I own the place.”
The color drained from her face. The smirk was gone. And for the first time in her life, Heather Parker looked completely lost for words.
The silence was heavy, hanging in the air. Then—boom—the restaurant erupted.
Jack slapped my back with a grin. Maria let out a victorious cheer. Sarah whooped like her team had just scored the winning goal. Their voices and laughter filled the room, drowning out whatever comeback Heather was trying to scrape together.
Her face turned crimson, her friends shrinking away from her, suddenly quiet and unsure. Jack, still grinning, threw an arm around me. “You’re looking at the best boss any of us have ever had,” he said proudly. “She’s cleaning tables today because she cares. She didn’t leave Beth hanging, because that’s not who she is.”
Heather opened her mouth, but Sarah cut in sharply. “Maybe it’s time you left. We don’t need ugly attitudes ruining our day.”
Heather’s shoulders slumped. Her confidence was gone, her voice small as she muttered, “I… I didn’t mean anything by it.” But we all knew the fight had drained out of her.
I stepped closer, my voice calm. “Heather, it’s fine. But maybe next time—think before you speak.”
Her eyes widened. She had nothing left. No comeback. No power.
They gathered their things and shuffled out the door. The bell above jingled as it closed behind them, and the air instantly felt lighter, freer, like a weight had lifted from my chest.
The restaurant buzzed with energy, everyone grinning. Sarah smirked and shook her head. “That was something. Instant karma.”
I laughed, pride swelling inside me. Years ago, I would’ve given anything to escape Heather Parker. But now? I was standing in the place I built, surrounded by people who respected and cared for me.
“Karma,” I said with a grin, “served with a side of justice.”