“But we haven’t done this in so long—just the two of us,” Eleanor said, her voice trembling slightly.
Peter ran a hand through his hair, clearly irritated. “Mom, I rearranged my entire schedule for this dinner. I left work early and canceled two meetings. Can’t we just eat and go?”
Eleanor blinked, hurt flashing in her soft blue eyes. The noise around them seemed to fade, but Antonio, the restaurant’s owner, noticed everything from behind the counter.
As their dinner arrived, Peter barely touched his food, glued to his phone. Meanwhile, Eleanor pushed her risotto around, her fork scraping softly against the plate.
Finally, Eleanor gathered the courage to speak. “Peter, I’m sorry if I’m being a burden. I just wanted one evening together… like old times.”
Peter, without looking up, muttered, “Mom, please don’t start.”
Her voice cracked as she whispered, “Do you even want to be here?”
That was when Peter snapped. “Honestly? No. I’m busy, Mom. I have work, responsibilities, and a life! You don’t understand how hard things are for me right now.”
The words landed like a slap. Eleanor’s chin trembled, and tears welled in her eyes. She turned her gaze to the window, blinking them away, but a single tear streaked down her cheek.
A heavy silence settled over their table.
From behind the counter, Antonio wiped his hands and approached. A tall, broad-shouldered man in his sixties, with kind eyes, Antonio moved with the quiet confidence of someone who had witnessed countless stories unfold in his restaurant.
“May I sit for a moment?” Antonio asked, placing a gentle hand on Eleanor’s shoulder.
Peter raised an eyebrow, annoyed. “We’re fine, thanks.”
Ignoring him, Antonio pulled out a chair and sat beside Eleanor. “I couldn’t help overhearing,” he said with a warm smile, “I remember you… You used to come here with your husband, yes?”
Eleanor nodded, her voice shaky. “Yes… many years ago.”
