The Woman in the Hallway
He stopped at The Imperial, a luxury restaurant.
“Whiskey. Double. Leave the bottle,” he muttered, sinking into a corner booth.
Glass after glass, he waited for the ache to fade. It didn’t.
An hour later, on his way to the restroom, he took a wrong turn — into the staff corridor.
That’s when he saw it.
Two young waiters laughed near a supply closet.
A woman in a blue janitor’s uniform was mopping the floor, moving slowly, with a limp.
“Come on, hurry up, Grandma! You dragging a leg or what?” one joked.
The other burst out laughing.
Something inside Ethan snapped.
He stepped forward, voice low and cold.
“Shut your mouths. One more word, and you’ll be scrubbing subway floors by tomorrow. Understand?”
They froze, nodding.
Then he turned to the woman. She trembled, struggling to lift the heavy bucket.
“Let me help,” he said.
She looked up.
And the world stopped.
Gray eyes — tired but deep.
A face from another life.
“Lena?” he whispered.
She flinched, trying to hide her face, but he gently took her hand.
“Set another table,” he told the waiter. “Dinner for two. Now.”
Before she could protest, he guided her into the main hall.
