Angela blinked. “Excuse me? I asked for champagne. Is there a problem?”
Rebecca avoided her gaze. “It’s not available at the moment.” But on her cart, the bottles gleamed.
Moments later, the man in 3B, a white business traveler, requested champagne. Rebecca poured without hesitation. Angela’s chest tightened as she watched the bubbles rise in his glass. The sting wasn’t about alcohol—it was about being dismissed, made to feel she didn’t belong.
