When we arrived at the restaurant, my stomach twisted. The steakhouse—one I had once thought was ours—had always belonged to him and Maria. Each familiar detail, every shadowed corner, now reflected the truth: everything I had believed about us was an illusion.
As we stepped into the restaurant, the scent of smoke and searing meat filled the air, thick and heavy. One of the senior waiters recognized us instantly and inclined his head with practiced respect.
“Don Corell. Mrs. Corell,” he greeted smoothly. “It’s been quite some time.”
I felt Maria tense beside Zaldy. Without hesitation, she leaned into him, slipping her arm through his with deliberate intimacy, staking her claim without a word. His body language shifted instantly—relaxed, receptive, familiar in a way that made my stomach tighten. The message was unmistakable. She wasn’t hiding anything.
Something sharp twisted in my chest, raw and instinctive—not jealousy alone, but the quiet fury of being erased.
The waiter hesitated, sensing the undercurrent, but Zaldy didn’t spare me a glance.
“Table for four,” he said calmly, the tone of a Don used to being obeyed.
“Of course,” the waiter replied, leading us toward a table positioned beside the open grill, flames dancing just inches away.
I recognized it immediately. That table had once been ours—a place Zaldy had invited me into, letting me share in his ritual of selecting cuts and overseeing the cooking. I had believed it was something special between us. Only now did I realize it had never been mine. It had always belonged to him and Maria.
As the grill flared, Gritte stepped forward, grabbing the tongs with confident ease.
“I’ve got this,” she said smugly. “I don’t cook unless I have to—but when I do, it’s perfect.”
She flipped the steaks expertly, the sharp hiss of fat hitting flame slicing through the air.
Everything seemed under control—until a burst of oil ignited suddenly.
Maria gasped in alarm and jolted backward, knocking the edge of the grill. Sparks scattered across the table, hot embers flying in every direction.
Gritte jumped back instantly. I wasn’t fast enough.
Pain exploded along my arm as sparks struck my skin—and Maria’s as well.
Before I could even react, Zaldy moved.
He lunged forward, grabbing Maria and pulling her into his arms with violent urgency.
“Call an ambulance!” he barked. “She’s burned—now!”