The sun rose late that morning, hidden behind a thick curtain of grey clouds. Teresa stood in front of the mirror, staring at her own reflection like it was a stranger. Her eyes were puffy, rimmed with red. Her lips were dry. Her soul felt quiet. Hollow.
She didn't want to go in.
Every fiber of her body begged her to call in sick, to stay curled under the blanket and sleep away the ache. But she couldn't. Her family needed the money. And more than that… she needed the distraction. The chaos. The sound of orders and clinking plates. Anything but silence.
So she dressed.
Packed her hair in a messy. No earrings. No smile.
Just her, her uniform, and her name tag 'Teresa' pinned over her heart like a brand she couldn't peel off.
The restaurant buzzed with its usual late morning rush, but to Teresa, everything moved in slow motion. She kept her head down, weaving between tables with robotic grace, refilling glasses, taking orders, clearing dishes.
She didn't look toward the kitchen.
She didn't look toward the office.
She didn't look anywhere she might see him.
Andrea hadn't shown up yet.
Good.
She didn't think she could take seeing him. Not after the way his lips had moved against Becca's. Not after hearing her name whispered between his gasps.
The memory burned.
But even with her gaze averted, she could feel eyes watching her. Whispers following her.
Some of the staff looked at her with pity. Others with curiosity.
Jane, priya, and Tracy knew something was up but they knew she wouldn't talk until she's ready. So they just let her be
Sandra waltzed into the kitchen thirty minutes after Teresa, all legs and confidence, red lipstick freshly applied with predatory gleam in her eyes.
She passed Teresa near the espresso machine and offered a low, sugary whisper. "You look terrible incase no one told you"
Teresa didn't answer.
Didn't blink.
She just walked away.
By noon, her shift was a blur. Hours moved like shadows. She poured herself into the rhythm greet, serve, clear, reset. She barely spoke more than necessary, and even then, her voice sounded flat, detached.
Then, around two o'clock, the door chimed.
She felt it before she saw it.
Andrea.
Her hands faltered slightly as she placed a plate down, but she didn't look up.
He was across the restaurant. Eyes scanning. Searching. And when they landed on her, she knew it. She didn't need to see his face to feel the weight of his stare. It was heavy. It was desperate.
She didn't give him the satisfaction.
She turned and walked straight into the kitchen, heart hammering behind her ribs like a trapped bird.
Andrea didn't speak to her that day. Not directly. Maybe he saw it in her eyes that wall she had put up. Maybe he heard the warning in her silence.
He stayed. Lingered. Hoped.
But she didn't look his way again.
Not once.
At the end of her shift, Teresa clocked out quietly. Her apron was folded neatly. Her notepad tucked in the drawer. No goodbyes. No waves. She just slipped out the back door like a ghost.
But someone had been waiting.
"Tessa!"
She froze in her tracks.
It was her boss, Andrea's mother.
She wasn't smiling.
She stood near the dumpster, arms crossed, looking concerned more than stern.
"You didn't say goodbye to anyone, that's not like you" she said, stepping forward. "You also did that yesterday"
Teresa swallowed. Her throat was dry. "I'm not in the mood to talk to anyone ma'am"
"Okay" she said gently. "But you did leave everyone wondering."
She said nothing.
She sighed. "Look, I don't know what has been happening to you… but I do know you've been one of the most reliable workers here. You come in early. You stay late. You care. That's rare."
Her tone softened. "If something's wrong… you don't have to suffer through it alone. I may be your boss, but I'm also a mother. You can talk to me"
Teresa's eyes flickered up at that.
Mother.
She felt happy to hear that.
She forced a nod. "Thank you, ma'am. I just need some time. That's all."
She studied her face. Maybe she saw it, the crack beneath the calm. The heartbreak disguised as professionalism.
She nodded. "Alright. But if you need anything… you come to me. Deal?"
She nodded again. "Deal."
The walk to the bus stop felt longer than usual. Not because of distance, but because of the weight in her chest. Like every step was dragging a boulder behind her.
When she got in, her mom was asleep on the couch. Her father out looking for job leads again. The silence in the house was comforting… for once.
Teresa tiptoed into her room, closed the door, and sat on the edge of her bed.
Then she let herself exhale.
She hadn't cried today.
Not once.
That was something.
But the night… the night was a different story.
At midnight, her mom walked gently into her room, the soft creak of the door barely breaking the stillness.
"Tessa," she said, her voice low and tender, "I know you've not been happy… and even though your dad and I haven't really been there for you the way you deserved, I just wanted you to know that we care about you."
She sat beside her daughter on the bed, brushing a loose curl from her cheek. "You can talk to me anytime, baby girl. Is there anything bothering you?"
Tessa hesitated, her eyes searching her mother's face but the words never came. She shook her head softly. "No," she replied.
Her mother smiled gently. "Alright… I have something for you."
She reached into her bag with a little grin, then held it up like a treasure.
"Ta-da."
Tessa's eyes widened as she stared at the phone in her mother's hand. It wasn't brand new, but it was hers.
"I got you a phone," her mom said, almost bashfully. "Although it's not new… I want you to have it."
Tessa blinked. "Mom…"
"You'll be twenty soon," her mom added, her voice almost cracking. "And I know you need this phone. But" she leaned in, lowering her voice playfully, "don't tell your dad, okay?"
Tessa's lips curled into a rare smile. "He'll lose his mind if he finds out."
"You have to keep it a secret," her mom said with a wink. "You know how he gets."
Tessa took the phone carefully, like it was something fragile. "Mom… you didn't have to. Thank you."
"You're welcome, my baby girl," she replied, pulling her into a warm hug. "I know you need it. That's why I saved up for it."
Tessa hugged her tighter. "Thanks, Mom."
She paused, her voice turning soft.
"I just… I wish Dad could be as soft-hearted as you are."
Her mother didn't answer right away. She just held her daughter a little longer, as if she could somehow protect her from the weight of the world and the weight of love.
⸻
Teresa arrived early to work.
The restaurant was quiet, save for the hum of the fridge and the clatter of prepping utensils.
She found her favorite spot near the back window and sat, watching the rain begin to fall once again.
Somehow, the sky always knew when her heart was heavy.
She leaned her forehead against the cool glass.
"You're early," a voice said behind her.
She didn't have to turn to know it was Andrea.
"I don't want to talk," she said softly.
"I know," he replied. "But I'm going to say something anyway."
She finally turned.
He looked rough.
Eyes tired. Jaw stubbled. Shirt rumpled.
Not the cocky boy she first met.
He looked… human.
He stepped forward. "I hurt you. I know that. And I can't undo it. But Teresa, you have to know Becca… that night… it didn't mean anything. It was a mistake. One I'll regret every day."
She stood up, spine straight.
"You didn't just hurt me, Andrea. You shattered something I was only just starting to believe in."
He swallowed. "Us?"
"Myself," she said, voice trembling. "You made me feel seen. And then you made me feel disposable."
He stepped closer. "You were never disposable."
"But you treated me like I was," she whispered.
Silence stretched between them.
Then, she asked, "Do you love her?"
"No," he answered instantly.
"Do you love me?"
He paused.
Teresa's eyes welled up.
"That's what I thought."
And just like that, she turned and walked away again.
This time, slower.
But still… she didn't look back.
⸻
Later that week, Teresa sat with her mom in the balcony.
The rain had passed, and the air smelled fresh.
Her mom placed a cup of tea in front of her. "You're quiet lately."
Teresa smiled faintly. "I'm learning to listen to myself."
Her mother studied her.
"You've grown," she said softly. "I see it."
Teresa didn't answer.
But she felt it too.
Pain changes people.
And she wasn't the same girl who had hidden behind her father's rules or dreamed naively of love.
She was someone who had tasted heartbreak and kept going.
Someone learning how to put herself first.
"Teresa!"
Her father's voice tore through the small house like thunder.
"Why is the table not cleaned up?" he barked. "Come get this plate away now!"
She quickly stood up from beside her mom, startled. Without a word, she hurried to the table and began to clear the dishes.
"If you try this next time, you'll be sorry for yourself!" he snapped, glaring at her.
Teresa didn't speak. Her hands moved fast, stacking the plates, wiping the table, keeping her head low.
"Why aren't you doing anything?" he shouted again. "You're just sitting around, wasting time on silly things!"
Her heart raced in her chest as she worked quickly, trying not to spill anything. The tension in the room was suffocating, but it was familiar. Too familiar.
She always hated staying at home.
Even on days when she felt sick, she'd find a reason to leave. Anywhere was better than here. Home wasn't comfort it was pressure. Noise. Yelling. Her father's voice echoing through the walls like a storm that never ended.
He yelled at her every chance he got.
And every time, it chipped away at something inside her.
Her confidence.
Her sense of peace.
Her worth.
And still… she didn't hate him.
Even though he was always grumpy and sharp, even though he made her feel small she loved him.
She didn't know why.
Maybe because he was still her father.
Maybe because that little girl inside her was still hoping he'd soften.
"You've been down lately," he said suddenly, narrowing his eyes. "I hope it's not because of a boy."
"No," she replied quietly, keeping her eyes down.
"It better not be," he growled. "If I find out you're seeing a boy, I'll make sure you regret it."
"It's not daddy" she said with a small fake smile, trying to keep the peace.
Pretending.
Always pretending.
Because in this house, feelings were a risk. And love was a secret she had to protect even from her own family.