But one question lingered in her mind: 'What was that thing I stumbled upon?' She tried to recall as hard as possible. By sight, she could only remember the tea that was about to be spilled on the tray. By hearing, only talking from the room. By smell, the tea. By taste, triple chocolate muffin (still wishing she could taste that again). But by feeling, she could feel something hard. That's the only way she could explain it - hard.

Between her work, she went in front of the VIP room door, the place where she felt that thing. There was nothing at the door. She traced back how she fell, how her toes bent. She traced where the thing touched, along the length of her right foot.

What could it be?

Duty calls. She had to go.

People at the cafe were whispering about her, the accident. The star had written quite a bad review about the cafe, especially about her. He had also written that the tea tasted too bitter. Either it really was bitter or he was just too bitter. She was in deep thought about this when she crossed paths with him who also looked like he's in deep thought. She went to the kitchen to ask Rose about him. She found her at the coffee brewer.

"Hey Rose!"

"Hi!"

"I wanted to ask you about that tall guy with white hair. Who is he?"

"Who do you mean?"

"That guy, with striking green eyes."

"Oh, you mean Oscar?"

"Oscar is his name, huh?"

"Yeah, Oscar Holmes, 28 years old, six foot seven inches. He was the employee of the month for 14 months straight, until you came. Been the blue-eyed boy before you came." Then she chuckled, "blue-eyed boy." "He has been working here for five years too," she added.

"You know everything about not only celebrities but your coworkers too?"

She shrugged, "I used to handle documents before this." She said as she poured coffee into a cup. Susan watched the dark liquid fall into the cup.

"Besides," she continued, "He's good-looking. Everybody used to like him. He used to be pretty nice too." The phrase 'used to like him' echoed in Susan's mind.

It was mid-noon. The time when there were the least or no customers at all. The last customer who was served by Rose just got up and left. This was the time when the waiters and waitresses chatted loudly, cleaned the place or took a break.

Susan was observing Oscar from a distance. He kept a straight face almost all the time—solemn, with a tinge of sadness. ‘He has all the reasons to hate me,’ thought Susan. ‘I broke his streak, I got the people’s attention. It’s just so connected.’

Then she remembered the thing she stumbled upon. She traced her foot in her mind. Could it have been a shoe? How did a shoe come there? Could it be that he was standing there? ‘What are you even thinking, Susan? Just forget about it.’

She was still staring at Oscar as he cleaned the table. Sensing someone looking at him, Oscar noticed her gaze, but she quickly pretended to be looking at something farther behind him.

Oscar continued staring at her, his thoughts churning. ‘How could she even escape being fired for that “accident”? It was so perfect, so precisely timed. And the drama after that… that could’ve gotten her fired in no time. Does she have some kind of magical power or something? I was right there with the tray of sweets, right behind her. I put my foot just when her foot was raised to move forward. Just the right time! How could she—?! How dare she?!’

Anger and hatred began boiling within him. Then he saw that she noticed him glaring at her—still holding a spray bottle in one hand and a damp cloth in the other. He turned away abruptly and walked off, taking deep breaths to calm himself down.

Susan watched him retreat to the kitchen and then noticed Michael nearby, leaning casually on the countertop with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, laughing and talking with a group of waiters and waitresses gathered around him. ‘What is he doing here?’ Susan wondered.

She overheard Michael saying, “My dad still lectures me about success and dreaming high and stuff. I mean, c’mon, I’m almost 30, and I’m being treated like I’m almost 13.” The group burst into laughter.

Susan had never heard Michael talk this informally before. It made her see him in a completely different light.

A telephone started ringing from his office. “Oh, there she is,” Michael said in an annoyed tone.

“Who’s she?” one of the waitresses asked.

“My sister,” Michael replied with an exasperated grin. “Her pet chihuahua is sick, and she gives me a full report of what it ate and what it did from time to time. She talks to me as if I’m a veterinary doctor.” The group laughed again.

“I wish your pet a speedy recovery!” one of the waitresses said.

Michael grinned widely and thanked her. His hair was disheveled—not combed neatly like it usually was every morning. He walked back into his office.

Susan had always pictured Michael as stressed out, strict, spick-and-span, too busy to socialize, and hot-headed. But today, he seemed like an entirely different person: jolly, stress-free, and chill—someone who didn’t carry too much responsibility on his shoulders.

Everyone around seemed to act as though this happened every day. But for Susan, this was the first time seeing him like this. Curious, she decided to ask one of them if this behavior was new or if it had been happening before she joined—just as Oscar had apparently been different before her arrival.

She approached an older waitress who was drying dishes nearby. The woman had probably been working at the cafe for a long time; she might know something.

“Was he always like this?” Susan asked in a low voice.

“Who?” the waitress asked back.

“The boss,” Susan clarified.

“Oh,” the waitress laughed lightly. “Him? This is my first time seeing him like this too. He rarely comes here at this time. Even if he did come by, he’d only talk about work and how to do it properly. I’ve never heard him talk to us this casually either.”

The waitress paused briefly before adding with amusement, “He never told us about his family before today either! He even shared how his father dislikes his haircut because it always falls into his face—and how his dad makes him wear clips and hair gel every morning.” She laughed again. “It’s funny to see such a father-son relationship—especially when the son is a grown man.”

She chuckled once more before concluding, “Something must’ve happened in his life recently… Nobody knows what it is.”

Susan nodded thoughtfully and helped her with the dishes.

For the rest of the day, Susan and Oscar stole glances at each other—his filled with hatred and hers filled with suspicion.

-3 MONTHS LATER-

'Life has its own difficulties, goodness might come later.' This very sentence, with all its meanings, can be re-applied in Susan's life.

In the morning, when she woke up in her cramped apartment room, she thought it was just another day in her life. But how can it be 'just another day' when she works in a place where all sorts of people go in and out, leaving their good and bad legacies behind with the people working there?

When she went to the cafe, she thought, 'Yet another fine day in The Billionaire's cafe. Everybody's minding their own business.' Then she took the first order of the day, a daily customer, an actress who was playing a side character's role in a drama series. She comes regularly for her morning cappuccino and has a friendly personality.

Susan had taken a few orders and had served a few orders until—a limousine parked in front of the cafe. Limos were usual. Nothing to be surprised about.

Then a bodyguard came out. Again, nothing to be surprised about. He opened the door, but nobody came out. Now that was strange. Then suddenly vans started coming and surrounding the limo and out came the media people with their cameras and mics and whatnot. Then, out of the limousine stepped out a young lady, a very very young lady she was, with a visibly loose tooth in the front. She wore a grand gold gown with long gloves, a sparkling tiara and a white folding hand fan in her hand. In all her grandness, she stood, waving at the cameras.

She was about to walk in when she noticed something on the ground, she looked at the bodyguard and said something. He replied looking nervous, even scared. Then she took a glance of the cameras around and said something to the bodyguard which made him look pale. Then she looked straight ahead, held up her fan and waved it quickly twice.

The bodyguard, understanding the sign language, started shooing off the people around. She entered the cafe with careful steps and announced, "It'sh my shiksht birfday, everyone." There was silence, a confused silence. "Vish me!" Her shrill, demanding voice forced everyone in the cafe to wish her 'happy birthday'. "I vant cake!" She ordered, "vif candles on it!"

All the waiters and waitresses sensed the danger and started rushing about the place. One of the waiters asked the child, "What kind of cake would you like to have? Chocolate, caramel, red velvet or cheesecake?"

She thought for a moment and shrieked "Shtrawberry Shortcake!"

"Umm...sorry but that's not part of the menu."

"I vant shtrawberry shortcake!!" She shrieked at the top of her lungs.

"Okay, okay, I'll get it for you," he replied, knowing there is no use in arguing with a child. So he asked, "How big do you want it?"

"I want it big! Really really big!" She showed the size with her arms.

"Okay, please take a seat."

With her nose in the air, she ordered, "Charlie, eshkort me." Her bodyguard came and took her to her seat.

The waiter ran to the head waitress and asked quite hopelessly, "The lady wants a strawberry shortcake. How will we make that happen?"

"Tell her it's not part of our menu of course."

"I told her that; she wouldn't listen."

"Umm... Chef, can you make strawberry shortcake right now?"

The baker of the cafe, an old man with wise eyes and a Santa Claus look on his face replied, "I can't make a strawberry shortcake right now!" He was holding a tray of large chocolate chip cookies, fresh from the oven. "I'm making these now."

The head waitress started thinking hard. Susan, who was listening to this conversation, suggested, "Why don't we order from a bakery nearby?"

Everyone was struck hearing that. "Yeah... why didn't I think of that?" The head waitress looked at Susan as if she was the most wonderful creature in the whole world. "Call the nearest bakery!" She ordered.

"But there are no nearby bakeries," the waiter said.

"That's why I said the nearest!" the head waitress shouted back.

"The nearest bakery is 30 minutes from here!" the waiter retorted.

"Then go get the cake! You have a scooter, right?" she asked.

"I do?" he replied uncertainly.

"Yes, you do! Take mine. I'll contact the bakery, and you'll go get it. Clear?" she instructed.

"Yes ma'am," he replied, taking the keys as she handed them over. He shot off immediately.

Then she called out, "Susan!"

"Yes ma'am," Susan replied.

"Here's the phone book, call the nearest bakery, won't you?" the head waitress asked.

"Yes ma'am," Susan answered and obeyed.

The child actress had already started throwing tantrums nearby. One of the waitresses came running, panting and shaking her head. "Ma'am! That kid...(pant)...is not staying still...(pant)...she's screaming for cake...(pant)...and disturbing everyone else...(pant)...please... help!"

"I don't know how to deal with children. Susan, you go," the head waitress ordered.

"What?" Susan asked, confused. "Go entertain that child."

"Entertain? But..." Susan started, but it was too late to argue. She was already being pushed out of the kitchen.

When they came near, the waitress pushed Susan toward the child, who was protesting, banging on the table, and screaming, "cake! cake! cake!"

An idea clicked in Susan's mind that would distract the child for a while. She turned to the waitress and shouted, "Seriously! You can't get cake for the princess?" Everyone grew silent.

"Uh...umm...but..." Susan winked at her, and she understood.

"Uh...I..." she continued. "Didn't you know it was her sixth birthday today?" Susan asked again with her hands on her hips.

"Princess Judith has been waiting for her cake for the past five whole minutes! Do you know how long that is? 300 seconds! You have to clap 300 times for five minutes to pass! The princess cannot wait for that long! Isn't that right, your highness?" "Yesh!" Judith shrieked, happy that she was being treated like a princess.

Susan continued, "It's just a strawberry shortcake! How long will that take?"

"Umm..."

"Don't even know that? What kind of waitress are you?" Susan teased.

"Yeah!" Judith shrieked again.

"You can't even get a simple strawberry shortcake for Princess Judith's sixth birthday. How disappointing can that be?" Susan said, playing along.

Then a screech was heard from outside, and the waiter came with the cake, saying, "I think I broke the speed limit." But at that point, nobody cared. All everybody wanted was for the child to have the cake and be quiet for some time.

The cake was served, and the candle lit. The lights were dimmed, and Susan began singing in a sweet, melodious voice. Everybody quietly listened to the birthday song.

And at last, the time came for Judith to blow the candle. But she noticed something on the cake and screamed, "I'm not a one year old! I'm shiksh! I vant shiksh candles on my cake!" "Oh yes, your highness! Six candles are needed. Paul! Get six candles!" Susan ordered.

"Yes!" Paul replied and got back on the scooter and drove off at once.

"Vat made you fink I wash one," Judith started, squinting her eyes to see the name tag, "Shu-Shan?" Someone snorted at that. Susan looked back, and Oscar was red, his eyes filled with tears as he swallowed his laughter.

Susan looked back at Judith, "I'm sorry, your highness. It was indeed my mistake. I didn't notice the number of candles on the cake. I'm truly sorry for the inconvenience."

By the time the candles arrived, someone shouted, "The candles, your majesty! The candles!"

The remaining five candles were lit. "Make a wish!" Susan reminded her.

Judith put her tiny palms together and mumbled her wish, "I want to be a real princess." And she blew her candles. When she blew her last candle, her loose tooth came flying across the table. "AAAA UUGGGHHH!" Judith started screaming.

Susan comforted her, and Paul cleaned the table.

Finally, Judith stopped crying and began eating her cake. "Charlie, eat shome cake, I can’t eat it all," she said to her bodyguard. Charlie looked at Judith with pride in his eyes and took a piece of cake.