Love, After Dark

Chapter 6

The restaurant felt like stepping into a memory. Warm lights. The smell of garlic and freshly baked bread. The same satin tablecloths we’d sat at since I was little- familiar, comforting, home. We’d been coming here for as long as I could remember. Birthdays. Promotions. Big moments. Mr. Solano always greeted us like family, his accent thick, his smile wide. “Ah, the family!” He said. “Big night, yes?” “Big night,” my dad agreed, clapping him on the shoulder.

Dinner was loud and happy. Even Sia behaved, cracking jokes instead of insults. We laughed, shared stories, and for the first time all day, my chest felt light. I felt untouchable, like the world had finally tilted in my favor. Halfway through, I excused myself to the bathroom, still riding the high.

On my way back, a familiar voice stopped me. “Siri,” Mr. Solano said, holding a small plate with a chocolate dessert and a neatly wrapped box. “For the driver. And for your birthday next week.” I blinked. “You didn’t have to-” He waved me off. “I wanted to.” “Thank you,” I replied with a smile. He patted my hand. “I’m really going to miss you, kid.”

My smile faltered. “Miss me?” He only smiled back, eyes sad, and walked away.

At the table, I set the dessert down. “That was… weird,” I said. “He said he’s going to miss me. Is he retiring or something?” My parents exchanged a look. My eyes glanced back and forth between the two, and I knew Sienna had done the same. My dad sighed. “We were going to wait until next week.” My stomach dropped. “I got a job offer,” he said. “In a city called Redhaven.” “Where the hell is that?” I asked. “Language!”, mom shouted. “Up north,” he said. “It was an offer I couldn’t refuse. I accepted it.” “When do we leave?” Sia asked, her voice suddenly small. “Next Saturday,” he said quietly. “The day before your sister’s birthday.” “You’re joking?”, Sia replied. Dad only sighed.

I couldn’t speak. Everything I’d been floating on shattered. My head filled with images- Kayla. Graduation. Cory. Millburn. Gone. I stared at the table, my excitement dissolving into grief. Leaving the only home I’d ever known felt like someone ripping the ground out from under me. And suddenly, that certificate in my bag felt heavier than ever.