Dinner in Silence: The Night My Past Walked In
Le Ciel—“The Sky”—was more than just a restaurant; it was a declaration. Perched on the fiftieth floor of the city’s newest skyscraper, with floor-to-ceiling windows revealing a breathtaking view of the glittering skyline, it was the crown jewel of my small but growing empire. The most exclusive and luxurious dining spot in town, with a reservation list stretching for months.
That evening, I, Catherine, forty-five, dined alone at a discreet corner table—not as the owner, but as a silent guest. Dressed in a simple cream silk blouse and tailored trousers, I was there to celebrate our most successful month yet, savoring quiet triumph and the fruits of my labor. The gentle clink of silverware, the murmur of low conversations, and the scent of truffle oil and ambition—it was the symphony I had composed.
Then my past walked in, like a discordant note shattering the perfect melody.
Mark—my ex-husband, who had left me after twenty years of marriage for a younger model—strode in arm in arm with his new wife, Tiffany. Twenty-five, draped in a designer dress one size too small, she wore her sense of superiority like perfume. Her laugh was too loud, her gestures too showy. They were clearly putting on a performance, and noticing me was an unexpected delight.
