James and Rachel, a couple in their early thirties, were the reason one would believe in true love again.

During my twelve years as a server at Romano’s, I’ve witnessed it all — from marriage proposals and anniversary celebrations to major business deals being sealed. But somehow, it was James and Rachel who have become my favorite customers.

My co-workers would often say, “Oh, we wish we had that kind of love in our life.”

They were regulars and visited the place every single Friday — table twelve by the window — no exceptions. James, always the charming one, would order his usual ribeye steak, medium-rare, while Rachel, a petite and soft-spoken young woman, with kind eyes and a gentle manner, would have the grilled salmon with seasonal vegetables.

They always shared a bottle of wine and a chocolate soufflé before calling it a night.

When it came to the check, they always shared it.

However, after some time, it felt like things started to change.

James changed his ribeye steak with some of the most expensive dishes the place offered.

What’s more, he would hand the bill to Rachel, who didn’t seem to be comfortable covering everything.

Over time, they started visiting the place with friends, and even then, Rachel was the one footing the bill.

One Friday evening, at exactly 7 p.m. James arrived at the restaurant with a group of friends. They were all in a good mood, celebrating a major business success. What was strange was that for the first time in years, Rachel wasn’t there.

But it didn’t take long before she arrived. She was breathing heavily, as though she was rushing to get at Romano’s on time.

While James and his pals ordered lavish meals, Rachel only got a salad.

It seemed like everyone was enjoying themselves — except for Rachel. Somehow, I had the feeling she didn’t feel like she belonged there.

Finally, when the check came, James tried to slide it to his wife — again.

“Rachel loves treating me,” he said jokingly, while she struggled to smile.

The total came to eight hundred and seventy-three dollars—more than many people spend on rent.

“James,” Rachel said quietly. “This is… this is a lot of money.”

“Come on, babe,” James replied, “Don’t be difficult. You know you can afford it.”

Rachel nodded and excused herself to the bathroom which was down a narrow hallway. I couldn’t help but follow her.

She was obviously very disturbed when she called her mother on the phone. “Mom, it happened again,” I could overhear her saying. “This time it’s nearly $900, that’s way more than I can afford for a restaurant check.”

At that moment, I decided to intervene. I knew Rachel long, and I believed she deserved I stepped up for her.

Once she hung up the phone, I waited for her to get out of the bathroom and said, “You know what? You don’t have to do this. When you return to the table pretend there is an emergency at work or something and let me handle the rest.”

Rachel, who was as quiet as always, just nodded.

Moments later, her phone rang and she acted as though they needed her at the office as soon as possible. And before James could ask more questions, she excused herself again and left the place.

It didn’t take long before I approached James’ table and told them there was a mix up with their reservation and that the table was double-booked.

James smiled and said it was fine as long as we offered another table. And that was the answer I was waiting for.

The moment they stood up in order to go to the other table, I said, “You would need to settle the account before we could make any changes to your seating arrangement.”

James’ face went pale as the implications sank in. “What do you mean, settle the account?”

“The bill for this evening’s celebration,” I explained gently.

As James pulled out his card, it was obvious he wasn’t happy with paying that much money, and his business associates seemed to notice that.

“Is there a problem, James?” one of them asked. But James tried to act as though everything was fine.

The following day, Rachel came to the restaurant and thanked me for what I did. It turned out that James was fuming and yelled at her for not paying the bill before leaving, and she finally found the courage to tell him that it bothered her to treat her as his personal ATM.

I am not really sure how things between them turned out. I only know that after years, this Friday, the couple I believed was the synonym of love didn’t show up at Romano’s as usual.

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