We finished the awkward meal in silence, and as we were leaving, the waitress brushed past me. She leaned close and whispered, almost too softly to hear: “I did it on purpose. He’s been bringing women here every week. You’re not the first—and it never ends well. Be careful.” My heart stopped. A chill ran down my spine as I realized her “accident” was actually a warning, a lifeline disguised as clumsiness.
