The calendar didn't care about journeys. It just kept moving.
Two weeks had passed since Sasha became shift lead, and the kitchen ran smoother than ever.
Luis joked less. Reed worked faster. Even Carla smiled now and then — a rare, almost mythical event.
But today felt… different.
There was no specific reason — just the feeling in Sasha's gut. A hum beneath her skin.
Something was coming.
By 9:30 a.m., the restaurant was full — two tour groups, a birthday party, and a staff shortage.
Sasha glanced at the schedule and cursed under her breath.
Max — back on the morning dish shift — had called in last-minute sick.
Reed was now on prep. There was no dishwasher.
Luis noticed. "We're short?"
Sasha nodded. "Bad short."
He grimaced. "Back to the trenches?"
Sasha tied her apron tight.
"Let's get dirty."
For two hours, Sasha worked the dish pit herself.
Hands soaked, sleeves wet, steam fogging her glasses. Her hair stuck to her forehead, and the clatter of dishes never stopped.
It felt like her early days — only this time, no one was watching her fail.
This time, she owned it.
At noon, a server rushed in, panicked.
"Customer complaint. Table 14. Food's late. Real late."
Luis shouted, "I need clean plates, now!"
Sasha spun around, caught in every role at once — server, leader, dishwasher.
And then, for a second, she heard it:
Debbie's voice, echoing in her mind.
"I'm not happy."
Sasha smiled grimly.
She whispered, "But I'm not quitting either."
As Sasha locked the door behind her, she paused.
The streetlights flickered in the distance, and the restaurant sat still, dark, and calm.
She lingered, staring through the glass at the dish drop — clean, empty, silent.
So much of her life had revolved around that space. Battles fought. Shifts survived. Lessons learned.
Luis's words echoed in her head:
"You earned it."
For the first time, she believed it.
At home, Sasha made tea and curled up on the couch, scrolling her phone.
A job alert popped up.
Restaurant Manager – Downtown Bistro – $22/hr.
She stared at it for a long time.
She could apply. Maybe get hired. Maybe escape the noise, the mess, the memories.
But then she thought of Maya fumbling her first tray.
Of Reed's nervous smile after she forgave his mistake.
Of Luis tossing her a soda after a rough shift.
She smiled.
She wasn't stuck.
She was rooted — and growing.
She closed the app.
The next morning, Sasha arrived early.
She brewed the first pot of coffee, prepped the dish area for Reed, and watched as the kitchen slowly came alive.
Maya rushed in, late and breathless. "Sorry!"
Sasha handed her a towel. "It's okay. Let's get to work."
Maya smiled. "Thanks, boss."
Sasha didn't correct her.
She just counted her teeth with her tongue and got to work.