At the opening party of my dream restaurant, my wife and her family never showed up.....

Описание: At the opening party of my dream restaurant, my wife and her family never showed up. When I called my wife, she laughed, coldly, and said, oh, was that today? ITL closed down soon. Anyway, LOL, her mother yelled, don't bother us, and then they regretted it. The golden glow of the restaurant sign illuminates the street.
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 Savor my dream finally brought to life after years of relentless struggle. I stand at the entrance staring at the name I designed. The letters elegantly lit against the Deep Navy background. Tonight is supposed to be a celebration, an opening night filled with love, support, and the people who matter most.

But as I scan the crowd, pouring in through the grand glass doors, there's a holiness inside me that I can't shake. Where is she? I pull my phone out of my pocket, my fingers tightening around it as I check for messages. Nothing. No missed calls, no texts. Just an empty silence that cuts deeper than any critic's review ever could.

The guests arrive in waves, some familiar faces, some new chefs from across the city. A few notable names in the food industry, a handful of investors eager to see their money in action. Servers glide between tables, their trays, balancing meticulously plated or d'oeuvres. Laughter fills the air, a chorus of admiration and curiosity.

My focus is elsewhere. My wife, Mira, and her family, the people who should be here, the ones I expected to stand beside me tonight are nowhere to be found. I take a deep breath pushing back the sting of disappointment. Maybe she's just running late. Maybe her family is on their way. I hold onto the excuse like a lifeline, even as doubt.

Creeps in minutes, turn to an hour. Still nothing. With my heart pounding against my ribs, I step outside onto the sidewalk away from the noise and dial her number. The phone rings twice before she picks up. Her voice is light. Almost amused. Oh, was that today? For a second, I think I've misheard her. I glance up at the glowing sign above me, the name Savor, staring back as if mocking the situation.

Neira. My restaurant. Our restaurant. This is the opening night, I say. Trying to keep my voice steady. You said you'd be here. I thought a scoff cuts me off. It'll close down soon. Anyway. LOL, my fingers tighten around the phone. The laughter in the background, the casual malice in her voice. It's not just indifference, it's intentional.

Then I hear another voice, her mother, Felicia, loud and sharp. Don't bother us, and just like that, the line goes dead. I lower the phone slowly. My hands suddenly cold despite the warm evening air. A numbness spreads through my chest. A weight so heavy, it almost knocks the breath out of me. I stare at the screen, willing it to light up again, to show me a message, a callback, anything that proves I didn't just hear what I heard.

But nothing comes. The people I fought for, sacrificed for the ones who were supposed to be my greatest supporters. They never even believed in me. The realization isn't sudden it's been creeping in for years, like a crack in a foundation that I kept pretending wasn't there. Myra's disinterest in my dreams.

Her family's endless comments about my little restaurant fantasy, the way they sneered. When I left my stable corporate job to chase something real, they didn't think I would make it worse. They wanted me to fail. The anger doesn't come right away. At first, it's just quiet. Devastation, the kind that sits heavy in your chest and doesn't let go, but then, then something else rises beneath it, something colder, sharper.

They will regret this. They all will. I tuck my phone back into my pocket and turned toward the restaurant, schooling my face into something neutral before stepping back. Inside the room is alive with conversation, clinking glasses, and the rich aroma of the dishes I spent years perfecting. My team moves with precision Rafael.
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