Three months passed, and by then I had earned the full trust of the restaurant manager. He helped me open a bank account just like he had done for other staffs. I updated all my government ID cards with the address of the place I now lived in. For the first time in my life, I felt like a fully independent woman and a true citizen of this country.
Every two weeks, I visited the bank to deposit the money I earned from tips. No one would believe that I already had fifty thousand saved in my account. Sometimes, I felt I deserved to look and feel better, so I bought two grand looking sarees and salwars for myself.
On weekends, I dressed up and went to the temple. Once, Shanthi sister and I even went to a mall to watch a movie. Another time, a staff member invited all of us to his daughter’s wedding, and I absolutely loved getting ready for the occasion.
I’m genuinely happy now….peaceful in a way I never imagined I could be. I speak to my mother occasionally, and every time she calls, she complains about how my father keeps falling sick. My brother, Akash, has joined college, which should have brought some change in the family… but one thing remains exactly the same.
They still haven’t spoken to Janani.
I don’t ask questions anymore, and just listen to her rantings. I’ve stopped expecting anything from them. But the day I saw Janani’s WhatsApp status, my heart tightened. She had posted a picture, a tiny baby boy wrapped in a soft blue blanket. No captions, no explanations… just the quiet announcement of a new life.
That was how I learned that Janani had given birth.
A part of me felt joy for her, and another part ached for all the moments she must have gone through alone. Even now, my family chooses silence over love. And yet, here I am, rebuilding myself piece by piece, hoping that someday they will see what their silence has cost all of us.
I was having lunch during my 10-minute break when Shanthi sister suddenly came rushing to me.
“Manager is calling you,” she whispered and my hand froze mid-air. A strange heaviness settled in my stomach. ‘Why would he ask for me now? ‘ He never calls staff unless there’s a complaint and I knew I hadn’t done anything wrong. I had always treated customers with respect, smiling patiently, serving politely, even helping a few mothers manage their babies while they ate.
Then why… why was he calling me?
A terrible thought struck me. ‘What if he wants to fire me? ‘ Panic shot through my chest. I quickly washed my hands and wiped them on my saree, my heart thudding loudly. My hands were trembling, but I forced a polite smile onto my face as I walked out to meet him.
By the time I stood before him, my pulse was racing, my breathing uneven… but I kept my posture straight, pretending I wasn’t scared at all.
“Meera, there have been a lot of appreciations from customers about you.” the manager said looking up from a register. My breath hitched.
“In all my years here, I’ve never heard of an able cleaner receiving this much praise. So… from tomorrow, you won’t be doing that job.” he said and I froze. His words echoed in my head and my throat tightened, tears filling my eyes instantly.
“Sir… I….. I never asked them to appreciate me. Please, sir… don’t fire me. You know how much I need this job. Please…” I stammered, panic spilling out. He blinked, surprised, and then a small smile tugged at his lips.
“Calm down, Meera. I’m not firing you. I’m promoting you.” he said and I went completely still.
“From tomorrow, you’ll be taking customer orders. Officially part of the service team. I’m sure you’ll do well in your new role. Collect your uniform before you leave. Your salary will be Seventeen thousand per month. And honestly, this is the first time someone has been promoted this quickly. All the best.” He said and closed the register in his hand.
For a moment, I just stood there, stunned, unable to even react. It felt like my mind was catching up word by word. He cleared his throat, breaking the silence, and I immediately bowed slightly with a trembling smile.
“Thank you, sir… thank you so much. I’ll do my best.” I said and hurried out. I went straight to Shanthi sister and before I could even speak, tears spilled down my cheeks and I hugged her tightly.
“What happened?” she asked, worried.
“I got promoted,” I whispered and she gasped loudly, her eyes widening. Then she almost screamed in excitement and hugged me again.
“I’m so happy for you, Meera. You deserve this so much”
Still overwhelmed, I continued cleaning the tables for the last time. My excitement was evident in my face. By the time my shift ended I went to meet the senior supervisor of the table staff. He handed me a fresh set of uniforms, neatly folded.
“From tomorrow onwards, you’re with us,” he said with a nod.
I thanked him sincerely before finally leaving the restaurant, my heart light, my steps shaky but I felt truly proud of myself for another achievement.
I reached home with the uniform pressed against my chest, hardly feeling the ground beneath my feet. My mind was still buzzing, half disbelieving, half overflowing with joy. The moment I pushed the door open, he looked up from the notebook he was reading.
The second he saw my face, he stood abruptly, “Meera? What happened? Why are you crying?”
I shook my head, smiling through the tears. Before I could speak, he crossed the room in long strides and pulled me into his arms. My face pressed against his chest, and I let out a shaky laugh.
“They promoted me,” I whispered.
He froze for a heartbeat, then slowly pulled back to look at me, his hands still resting on my shoulders. “What?” he asked, as if he needed to hear it again to believe it.
“I… I got promoted. Tomorrow onwards I’ll be taking customer orders. And my salary is going to be Seventeen thousand,” I said, the words tumbling out breathlessly.
A wide, proud smile spread across his face. Without warning, he wrapped me in the tightest hug yet, lifting me slightly off the ground.
“Meera, that’s amazing. In just three months? You did this on your own ” he said, his voice filled with genuine excitement. I laughed, embarrassed and overwhelmed.
“I still can’t believe it…” I said and he held my face between his palms, his eyes shining.
“You should believe it. You earned this. You worked hard every single day, and now look……you’re rising so fast. I’m… I’m so proud of you.” he said pressing his lips on her my forehead.
No one had ever said that to me before, not with that much sincerity, not with that much warmth.
I lowered my gaze, feeling my throat tighten again. “I just… I never thought someone like me could get such an opportunity…”
“Someone like you? Meera, you’re strong. You’re hardworking. And you’re brave enough to start life from zero. Do you know how rare that is?” he said and brushed away a tear that slipped down my cheek.
“You deserve every bit of this success,” he whispered and a soft silence settled between us, the kind that feels like safety. He finally smiled again and tapped the uniform bundle in my hand. I spread the new uniform carefully on the bed, smoothing the fabric with my palms. He stood beside me, admiring it with the same excitement I felt inside.
“It suits you already,” he said softly.
I smiled, but there was a strange heaviness blooming in my chest. He looked at me with so much pride, so much tenderness, as if my happiness mattered to him more than anything. His presence filled the little room with warmth I had never known before.
For a moment, just a moment, I let myself imagine what it would feel like if he were real. If I could come home every day to someone who saw me this way, believed in me this way.
He touched my shoulder gently. “Tomorrow will be a beautiful day for you, Meera.”, he said and my throat tightened.
“Thank you,” I whispered and blinked quickly, forcing myself to smile.
As the sky darkened and the room fell quiet, I sat on my bed, holding my phone. The screen lit up, and there he was, his beautiful fictional face on the cover of the novel.
My heart swelled painfully.
He wasn’t real, he wasn’t waiting for me, he lived inside a story, in words written by someone else… not in the world where I struggled and fought to survive.
Still, every time I closed my eyes, it was his voice that comforted me. His smile that lifted me. His imaginary warmth that held me together when the world felt too heavy.
I lay down slowly and drew the blanket over myself.
My fantasy gave me hope, the courage to stand, to dream, to believe that someone someday might look at me the way he did in my imagination. But knowing he was only a character in a novel made my heart ache softly. Still… just for tonight, I let myself smile.
Because sometimes, even a fantasy is enough to keep a lonely heart alive.
I arrived at the restaurant earlier than usual, my heart thudding with a strange mix of excitement and nerves. In the changing room, I carefully slipped into the new uniform, black pant, a grey shirt, and a black waistcoat with yellow stripes. The fabric felt stiff and unfamiliar against my skin.
When I looked into the half mirror, I froze. This was the first time in my life I had worn pants and a shirt. I felt shy, but at the same time, somewhere deep inside, a little spark of pride flickered. I adjusted the collar, straightened the waistcoat, and finally placed the cap on my head.
For a moment, I didn’t recognize the girl in the mirror. She looked… confident. Capable. Like she belonged here.
Stepping out, the other staff greeted me with thumbs-ups and small cheers. I felt my cheeks heat in embarrassment, but their support eased my nervousness.
My immediate supervisor walked over and handed me the ordering gadget. He taught me the way of handling it and taking orders using it. I nodded, clutching the device like it was a lifeline.
I was assigned three tables. My heart pounded as if I had been given the responsibility of an entire wedding hall. Taking a deep breath, I approached my very first table.
“Two plates of biryani, one full tandoori,” the man said.
I offered a polite smile and entered the order into the gadget carefully, double-checking each item before pressing ‘send’. A small vibration confirmed the order had reached the kitchen. I poured water for them, ensuring the glasses were filled equally, and stepped back to observe quietly, ready for any further request.
While they waited, I coordinated with the service staff, making sure the plates reached the customers the moment they were ready. I didn’t want even a second of delay to make them unhappy.
Their satisfaction mattered more than anything. When I placed the bill book, one of the customers paid with a card and slid 30 rupees inside as a tip.
For a second, I just stared. When I was a cleaning staff, I usually received ten rupees, twenty at the most. But this felt more, a tiny proof that I was doing something right. I quickly smiled and thanked them with folded hands before calling the cleaning staff to clear the plates and reset the table.
As I walked to attend the next customer, the thought kept echoing inside me.
I have to do something more. Something better. Something that shows I’m different, that I deserve this chance.
With that determination burning quietly in my chest, I stepped forward to continue my duty with more confident than I had felt in a very long time.
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A/N:
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