Sarah immediately stopped.
"Yes, ma'am?"
"I've been waiting for some water. Could you please bring me a glass?"
Sarah looked startled.
"Oh my goodness. I'm so sorry."
She glanced toward the service station.
"I'll get it right away."
"Thank you."
Sarah hurried away.
Within a minute, she returned with a glass of ice water.
Camille smiled.
"Thank you."
"Of course."
Sarah hesitated.
"Is there anything else?"
"Not yet."
Sarah nodded and walked away.
Camille took a sip.
The water was cold.
But it did nothing to cool the uncomfortable feeling growing inside her.
She had experienced this before.
Not exactly here.
Not exactly like this.
But she knew the feeling.
The deliberate delay.
The refusal to acknowledge her.
The subtle message hidden beneath ordinary behavior.
You don't belong here.
Camille had spent enough years living in America to recognize the difference between an accident and a pattern.
Still, she didn't want to jump to conclusions.
She looked toward the kitchen.
Ethan was laughing with another table.
Then he walked past hers again.
Nothing.
No greeting.
No question.
No acknowledgment.
Twenty minutes had passed since she arrived.
Her stomach growled.
Camille sighed.
She raised her hand.
This time, Ethan noticed.
He stopped.
Slowly, he walked toward her.
"What can I get you?"
Camille stared at him.
"I'd like to order."
"Okay."
"I've been waiting almost half an hour."
Ethan shrugged.
"We're busy."
Camille looked around.
The dining room was busy.
But somehow everyone else seemed to be receiving excellent service.
She kept her voice calm.
"I understand that. But I've watched you serve several tables since I arrived."
Ethan's expression changed.
"What are you saying?"
"I'm asking why my table has been overlooked."
"You've been waiting, what, twenty minutes?"
"Almost thirty."
He sighed.
"Maybe you're being a little sensitive."
Camille felt something tighten in her chest.
There it was.
That word.
Sensitive.
The word people often used when they didn't want to discuss the reason someone was upset.
She straightened.
"I'm asking for the same service everyone else is receiving."
"I'm busy."
"And I'm a customer."
Ethan stared at her.
For a second, neither spoke.
Finally, he pulled out his notepad.
"What do you want?"
Camille looked directly into his eyes.
"The house special."
He scribbled.
Then walked away.
No apology.
No explanation.
Nothing.
Camille leaned back.
She told herself to stay calm.
She told herself Matthew would be there soon.
But something inside her had already changed.
This wasn't simply poor service anymore.
It felt deliberate.
And she was beginning to suspect Ethan had made a decision about her the moment he saw her.
An Order That Never Existed
Forty-five minutes later, Camille was still waiting.
The restaurant had grown even busier.
Plates moved constantly through the dining room.
Wine glasses were filled.
Guests laughed.
Servers checked on tables.
But Camille's table remained untouched.
She stared at her empty place setting.
Her patience was disappearing.
She checked the time.
Almost eight o'clock.
She had ordered nearly an hour earlier.
Yet there was still no food.
Camille flagged down Sarah.
Sarah hurried over.
"Mrs. Johnson?"
"I ordered the house special almost an hour ago."
Sarah's eyes widened.
"You did?"
"Yes."
"Let me check."
Sarah disappeared toward the kitchen.
Camille watched her go.
A few minutes later, Sarah returned.
Her expression was uncomfortable.
"I'm really sorry."
"What happened?"
"The kitchen says they never received your order."
Camille stared at her.
"They never received it?"
Sarah shook her head.
"No."
"But Ethan took it."
"I know."
Camille slowly exhaled.
"Can you ask him to come over?"
Sarah hesitated.
"Of course."
She walked away.
Camille sat still.
The anger inside her was no longer subtle.
She wasn't angry because she had waited for food.
She was angry because she knew exactly what had happened.
Ethan had taken her order.
He had deliberately failed to enter it.
Then he had continued serving everyone else.
That wasn't an accident.
That was a choice.
Ethan eventually approached.
His posture was casual.
Almost arrogant.
"Is there a problem?"
Camille stared at him.
"You didn't enter my order."
Ethan shrugged.
"Must have been a mistake."
"You took my order almost an hour ago."
"Things get hectic."
"You didn't enter it."
"Like I said, it was a mistake."
Camille's voice became quieter.