I thought it was just going to be the two of us. You know how it is—you plan a quiet evening to finally catch up after a long week, and you’re looking forward to a bit of one-on-one time. That’s what I expected when I walked into Luigi’s that night. But as soon as I saw Sarah sitting at a table for six, my stomach did a slow somersault.
She didn’t just bring her parents; she brought her brother and a “cousin” I’d never heard of. I spent the next two hours watching them order the most expensive items on the menu—surf and turf, aged wine, the works—while I sat there picking at a side salad, feeling like a stranger at my own date.
The air in the room changed when the bill arrived. $400. Sarah didn’t even reach for her purse. She just gave me this expectant, almost pitying smile and pushed the check toward me. “It’s a family thing, honey. It would be a nice gesture,” she whispered.
But something in me snapped. Maybe it was the way her brother was already checking his watch, or the way her mom was looking at me like I was an ATM. I looked her in the eye and said, “I’m paying for my salad and your drink. The rest is on you guys.”
The table went dead silent. The “cousin” started huffing, and Sarah’s eyes filled with tears—the kind that feel a little too practiced. I felt like the villain in a movie I didn’t sign up for.
I stood up to leave, my hands shaking slightly. As I was grabbing my jacket, our waiter—a guy who had been remarkably quiet and attentive all night—brushed past me. It felt accidental, but then I felt a sharp corner of paper pressed into my palm.
“Read it outside,” he breathed, his voice barely a ghost of a sound.
I didn’t look back. I walked out into the cool night air, leaned against my car, and unfolded the scrap of paper. My heart was hammering against my ribs. In frantic, scribbled ink, it said:
“She’s not… who you think she is. That ‘family’ is a crew. They’ve done this three times this month. Check your pockets—the ‘cousin’ is a pickpocket.”
I reached for my back pocket. My wallet was gone. I looked back through the restaurant window and saw the “family” calmly split the bill and stand up to leave, not a tear in sight.