Her fingers trembled as she leaned forward.
“Where did you get that?” she demanded, voice cracking.
“Tell me right now.”
The boy didn’t answer immediately. He only pointed—slowly, deliberately—toward the hedge walkway beside the terrace.
Every guest followed his finger.
At the edge of the greenery stood a woman in a beige suit.
Still.
Watching.
No emotion. No movement.
The woman in black went pale.
“…No way,” she whispered.
Her voice broke completely. “That’s impossible.”
The boy finally spoke again, softer this time:
“She told me you’d recognize her.”
The woman in black stepped back like the ground had shifted.
“You’re dead…” she whispered toward the figure in beige.
“You were supposed to be dead.”
The woman in beige finally moved—just one step forward.
Her voice was calm, almost cold:
“You left me to die first.”
A collective shock ran through the café.
The woman in black shook her head violently.
“That’s not true… I saved you!”
The boy suddenly raised his voice, confused and desperate:
“Mom said you both would lie!”
Silence.
Then the woman in beige lifted her hand slightly.
“He’s mine,” she said quietly.
“And now he knows everything.”
The café erupted into chaos—but the truth had already landed, and there was no way to undo it.
