Ex-Wife Moving Wife Giving Birth? Congratulations, You’re Single Now novel Chapter 96

Chapter 8

Hey, duln’t you guys say you were starving? Why don’t we just grab something here?

“We can support Alina’s mom’s little… business. I mean, they’ve barely scraping by think of it as charity. Helping her afford college and all that.

It seems busy enough. The food’s probably not terrible, right?

Harper’s makeup was camera–ready tonight. She wore a strapless white mini dress that hugged her in all the right places, paired with heels that probably cost more than our entire week’s earnings.

Her eyeshadow–some expensive glittery shade–caught the streetlight perfectly. She looked like she’d just stepped off a yacht.

And then there was me.

Covered in grease, Hair plastered to my forehead with sweat. Soot smudged across my arms from wrestling with the grill burner.

The contrast was brutal. Humiliating.

We were both eighteen. But we might as well have been living on different planets.

I’d always known that.

But standing here–in front of the guy I’d wasted years pining over–feeling this small, this pathetic–made every cell in my body scream to run.

I turned back toward the grill, pretending to adjust the propane valve, trying to block out the weight of their stares.

But Mom didn’t catch the hint.

She rushed over, face lighting up like this was some kind of blessing.

“Oh, Alina! Are these your classmates? Nathon, sweetheart, it’s been too long!

“Come on, everyone, sit down! Order whatever you want–it’s on the house tonight!”

She started bustling around, clearing off two of the folding tables, scrubbing them down with obsessive care, preparing to push them together.

Nathon stepped forward to help her lift one of the tables.

That’s when the comments started.

05 2 2 2 2

Not whispered. Not subtle.

Just loud enough to make sure we heard every word.

“Ugh, we’re seriously eating here? This is, like… so unsanitary. I can literally smell the grease.”

“Who even knows what kind of people have sat in these chairs. I might actually throw up.”

“Harper, babe, look at this meat. Is that even FDA–approved? Like, is this stuff even legal?”

“I don’t do street food. Ever. My mom would kill me if she knew I was even standing here.”

One of Harper’s friends–a blonde girl in a crop top–wrinkled her nose dramatically, taking an exaggerated step back from the truck.

“God, is that smoke? My hair’s gonna reek for days

Mom’s hand froze mid wipe.

Her shoulders stiffened. He smir altered.

I felt my land bol

Nathen heard it to. His jaw clenched, and he shot the group a warning look.

Though. Mrs. Dennvan runs a clean business. Show some respect.”

HR voice was firm–hut it wasn’t enough

The damage was already done.

I could see it in Mom’s face. The way her confidence crumbled. The way she suddenly looked small.

And I was done.

I walked over, gently took the rag from her hand, and guided her back toward the grill.

Then I turned to face Harper and her little clique, forcing my voice to stay calm and polite–even though every word tasted like acid.

“Thanks for stopping by, but we’re actually pretty slammed tonight with real customers.

“If you’re not planning to order, we’d appreciate it if you moved along. We don’t want to hold up your evening.”

I kept my tone light. Friendly, even.

But the message was clear: Get the hell out of here.

Harper’s face immediately shifted into this wounded, doe–eyed expression–like I was the one being unreasonable.

“Oh my God, Alina, I was just trying to help you.

“I wanted to support your family. My friends didn’t mean anything by it–they’re just not used to… you know… this kind of dining experience.”

She gestured vaguely at the truck, her perfectly manicured nails glinting under the lights.

One of her friends snickered.

Nathon’s expression darkened, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade.

“Alina, don’t twist this into something it’s not.

“No one’s attacking you. They’re just not used to eating at food trucks. That’s all.”

I bit down on my tongue so hard I tasted copper.

I didn’t trust myself to respond to him.

Instead, I turned back to Harper and her friends, keeping my voice painfully polite.

“I’m sure you’ll find plenty of places more suited to your tastes just down the street.

Chapter 8

“We really do need to get back to work now. Have a great night.”

Mom stayed silent beside me, arms crossed tightly over her chest, eyes fixed on the ground.

Nathon stared at me for a long, cold moment–like he was waiting for me to apologize, to smooth things over like 1 always did.

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