Have you ever had one of those moments where your past just barges into your present, uninvited? One minute, I’m at the restaurant where I work, wiping down tables, and the next, I’m looking into the eyes of Heather, the girl who made my high school years unbearable.

It’s a typical day. The restaurant is cozy and warm, with the comforting smell of coffee greeting you at the door. It’s the kind of place where the regulars know your name and ask about your life. Today, I’m helping out more than usual because Beth, one of our waitresses, isn’t feeling well—she’s pregnant and had a fainting spell earlier. Being a tight-knit crew, we all pitch in when one of us is down.

I’m scrubbing the back tables when I hear it—laughter. Not just any laughter, but the kind that takes me right back to high school. I don’t even need to look up to know who it is.

It’s Heather Parker.

She was the queen bee back in the day, surrounded by her loyal crew, Hannah and Melissa. And here she is, waltzing into the restaurant, laughing loudly like she owns the place. Nothing has changed. They used to mock me for everything—my clothes, my hair, even my dreams of leaving that small town.

I freeze for a second, gripping the cloth in my hand. They haven’t noticed me yet, but I can already feel that familiar heat creeping up the back of my neck. Sure enough, Heather’s gaze eventually lands on me, and that wicked smile I remember so well spreads across her face.

“Well, well, well. Look who we have here,” she says loudly, making sure everyone can hear. “Still wiping down tables, huh? Guess that’s all you ever amounted to.”

Her friends laugh, but I just keep cleaning, trying to block them out. It doesn’t matter. I’m not the same person I was in high school. I’ve moved on—at least I thought I had.

Heather keeps at it. “Is this what you dreamed of back in high school? Cleaning up after people who actually did something with their lives?” Her voice is dripping with sarcasm, and her friends are nudging each other, loving every second of it.

Then, she snaps her fingers at me, like I’m her servant. “Hey, waitress! Can you at least get us some water?”

Before I can even respond, I hear footsteps behind me. Jack, the sous-chef, walks out of the kitchen, his arms crossed and his gaze locked on Heather. “You don’t talk to her like that,” he says, his voice calm but firm. Maria, the head chef, follows, wiping her hands on her apron. “We don’t tolerate disrespect here,” she adds.

Heather rolls her eyes. “Oh, please. We’re just being honest,” she says, flipping her hair back. “Isn’t it a little sad, though? Who even cleans tables anymore?”

Jack steps forward, his voice steady. “She works harder in a day than you ever will in your entire life. Now, do you want that water or are you done embarrassing yourself?”

The rest of the staff starts gathering around me, offering silent support. Sarah, our bartender, speaks up. “If you can’t be respectful, you can take your business elsewhere.”

Heather scoffs, acting like she’s about to win some power play. “We’ll just speak to the manager,” she sneers.

That’s when I step forward. “You already have,” I say calmly. “I’m the manager. In fact, I own this place.”

Heather’s smug look falters. For the first time, she seems lost for words. The room falls silent, and then, all at once, my team erupts in cheers. Jack claps me on the back, and Maria shouts in victory. Heather’s face turns bright red as she stands there, speechless, before gathering her things and scurrying out the door.

As they leave, the room buzzes with energy. Jack winks at me, and Sarah smirks. “Talk about instant karma,” she says.

I laugh, feeling a swell of pride. Years ago, I would have done anything to escape people like Heather. But now? Now I stand tall, surrounded by people who respect me.

“Karma,” I say with a smile, “served with a side of justice.”