In an upscale restaurant, Sarah spots her former boss among the wait staff.
Emma, are you free on Saturday night? she asks on the phone. I want to introduce you to someone. Business dinner at a nice place.
Sarah adjusts her glasses and puts aside the paperwork shes been reviewing.
What do you mean introduce? she replies. I told you Im not looking for anyone.
No, not that kind of introduction, Emma laughs. Its a business partner. Hes looking for a capable accountant for his new firm. The salarys good, the conditions are excellent. I thought of you straight away.
Sarah hesitates. Her current job is stable, but the offer sounds tempting.
What restaurant? she asks.
The Crown on Oxford Street. Have you heard of it?
Sarahs eyes widen. The Crown is one of the citys most expensive and prestigious eateries. The average check starts at about £60 per person.
That sounds lavish, she says. Alright, Ill be there. What time?
At seven. Dress nicely; the crowd is upscale.
After hanging up, Sarah stands before the mirror. The reflection shows a 52yearold woman who looks her agesilvering hair, fine lines around the eyes, a tired face. Nothing unexpected after thirty years as an accountant.
On Saturday evening, Sarah spends a long time choosing an outfit. She settles on a darkblue dress she bought for a company anniversary, adds a little makeup and modest jewellery, and steps into a taxi heading for the restaurant.
The Crown greets her with the soft glow of crystal chandeliers and subdued music. At the entrance, a Swissdressed maître d bows slightly and opens the door.
Welcome, he says with a light bow.
Sarah steps inside and looks around. Marble columns, velvet armchairs, paintings in gilt frames create an atmosphere of opulencefar from her own world, and she feels a flicker of awkwardness.
Do you have a reservation? asks a neatlydressed receptionist.
Yes, under the name Parker, Sarah answers.
One moment, the receptionist scans the list. A table for you is ready. Table seven by the window. Ill show you.
They walk through the dining room, and Sarah notices other patronswellgroomed, stylish, confident. Emma is already seated with a middleaged gentleman.
Sarah! Emma stands up. Finally! Meet Victor Harper. Victor, this is Sarah Parker, the accountant Ive been telling you about.
Victor smiles, offers a handshake, and they sit. He talks about his business, asks about Sarahs experience, and the conversation flows easily. Sarah can already picture herself in the new role.
Shall we order first, then continue? Victor suggests, waving a waiter over.
A woman in a black servers uniform approaches. Sarah lifts her eyes to the menu, and her breath catches.
Its Irene Whitaker. Her former boss.
The same woman who, seven years ago, turned Sarahs life into a nightmarewho berated her in front of colleagues, nitpicked every detail, made her redo reports ten times, and drove her to a nervous breakdown that forced Sarah to quit and spend six months recovering.
Irenes face pales, her hands tremble as she holds the order pad.
Good evening, Irene says, voice barely steady. What would you like?
Emma and Victor remain absorbed in the menu, oblivious to the tension. Sarah watches her former tormentor, unable to believe what she sees.
Irene looks older now. She always seemed older than she was, but now she appears exhausted, her eyes dull, her onceimpressive suit replaced by a modest servers uniform. The confidence that bordered on arrogance has vanished.
Sarah Parker, have you decided? Victor asks.
Yes, of course, Sarah recovers. Ill have the Caesar salad and the grilled salmon.
Irene writes the order, her hand shaking so hard the letters smear across the paper. Sarah sees her former boss fighting to maintain professional composure.
Anything else? Irene asks quietly, not looking up.
Nothing more, Victor replies. Could we have water and a glass of wine to start? He points to the wine list.
Irene nods hurriedly and retreats. Sarah watches her leave, a swirl of conflicting feelingsschadenfreude? pity? satisfaction?
You look pale, Emma notes. Everything alright?
Just a bit tired, Sarah forces a smile. No problem.
The conversation continues, but Sarah barely hears it. Her mind races, memories flooding back.
She remembers her first day at the accounting firm. Irene had greeted her coldly, scanning her from head to toe.
Alright, newcomer, Irene had said then. Theres no room for slackers here. Youll work hard, and I wont tolerate mistakes. Understand?
Sarah had nodded, assuming strictness. Soon she realized it was outright tyranny. Irene would criticize a report five minutes late, rebuke a misplaced comma, and publicly berate Sarah for a tenminute traffic delay.
Do you think Ill believe your excuses about traffic? Irene would shout. Irresponsibility! Professional incompetence! If this continues, youll have to find another job!
The staff kept quiet, fearing Irene. She would even insult Sarah in front of clients, saying, Half my team are useless. No one dared object.
Sarah endured. The pay was decent, but the stress took a tollinsomnia, headaches, rising blood pressure.
Then came the day she submitted a quarterly report after two weeks of work. She doublechecked it; everything was perfect. Irene found a trivial fivepound discrepancya mistake that didnt affect the total.
What is this?! Irene roared, slamming the folder down. Do you even know what youre doing? This is why the company loses money! Fix it immediately!
Something snapped inside Sarah. She stood, looked Irene in the eye, and said calmly,
Im resigning, right now. Give me a termination letter; Im leaving today.
Irene was stunned. How can you
Im resigning, Sarah repeats, firmer. And you know what? In all these years you never said a kind word. You never praised me, only humiliated me. I wont put up with it any longer.
She packed her things and left. That same day she suffered a hypertensive crisis and was hospitalized. Doctors diagnosed severe stressinduced exhaustion and prescribed total rest.
Sarah spends six months recovering, learning to enjoy life again. When she returns to work, she finds a small, friendly firm where the boss is kind and values his staff. Life gradually steadies. Years pass; Sarah eventually forgives Irenenot for Irenes sake, but for her own peace. Yet the memory never fades.
Now fate brings them together again, but the balance has shifted.
Irene approaches the table with a tray, sets glasses, pours water, uncorks a bottle of wine. Her hands shake, almost dropping the corkscrew.
Is everything alright? Victor asks kindly.
Yes, excuse me, Irene murmurs. Itll be fine.
She pours the wine and hurries away. Sarah watches her go, wondering how the oncefeared department head ended up as a waitress.
The dinner continuessalads, mains, dessert. Each time Irene returns, she avoids looking at Sarah, serving quietly, trying to finish her shift quickly.
Victor discusses the job details between courses. The salary is indeed attractivewell above what Sarah currently earns. Benefits, bonuses, paid leaveall sound enticing.
So, what do you think, Sarah Parker? he asks as coffee arrives. Ready to try?
I need to think it over, Sarah replies. Its a serious decision; I dont want to rush.
Take a week, Victor says, sliding his card across the table. Call me when youve decided.
Emma smiles, clearly hoping Sarah will say yes.
When the bill arrives, Sarah notices it totals over £200. Victor pays, and they part ways. Emma catches a taxi, Victor heads to his car, and Sarah lingers, claiming she wants a short walk.
She steps outside, strolls along the street, then reenters through a side door shes seen before. A security guard eyes her.
I forgot my scarf in the cloakroom, Sarah lies. May I get through?
Talk to the receptionist, the guard says.
But Sarah slips inside, follows a corridor to a door marked Staff. She pushes it open and finds the waitstaff break room.
There, Irene sits on a chair, clutching a handkerchief, quietly crying.
Irene Whitaker? Sarah calls softly.
Irene startles, sits up, wipes her tears, and stands.
Sarah Parker I Im sorry
Sit down, Sarah says, closing the door gently. No need to stand.
Irene sinks back, looking even more brokenred eyes, gaunt face, hunched shoulders.
I didnt want you to see me like this, she whispers. Its humiliating.
What happened? How did you end up here? Sarah asks, taking a seat beside her.
Irene pauses, gathering thoughts.
After you left, I kept working. Then a audit uncovered that the companys director was committing fraud, forging documents with my signature and stamps. I was completely unawareI was too busy bullying staff.
She swallows. The police opened a case. The director fled abroad, and I was named an accomplice. I got a suspended sentence and a ban on senior roles.
Did you know? Sarah asks.
I swear I didnt! No one believed me. My husband divorced me, saying he couldnt live with a criminal. He took the house and the car. I was left with nothing.
Sarah feels a mix of vindication and compassion. I was angry for years, but that anger only ate me away. I chose to let it go.
Irene nods, tears flowing again. I deserve this. I was terrible. Im ashamed of how I treated you God, Im so sorry!
Sarah hands her a napkin. Why were you so harsh? she asks quietly. What drove you?
I dont know, Irene admits. I think I was compensating for my own insecurities. My husband treated me like a servant at home, never respected me. At work I took it out on others, feeling powerful for once. Foolish, isnt it?
It is, Sarah agrees. And cruel.
I understand now, Irene says. Today a customer told me Im too old to be a waitress, that I should retire. I smiled and nodded because I have no answer. I need this job.
Sarah looks at her and remembers the terrified version of herself seven years ago. The circle has closed.
Did you come here just to watch me? Irene asks. To feel satisfied that I got what I deserved?
No, Sarah shakes her head. I came to talk.
You should hate me, Irene says, bewildered.
I stopped hating you long ago, Sarah sighs. Bitterness poisons you. I forgave you, not for you but for myself.
Irene sobs again, this time softer. Thank you thank you for forgiving me.
A low hum of conversation, clinking plates, and soft music fill the room.
How much do you earn here? Sarah asks.
About twenty pounds plus tips, Irene answers. Its modest, but it covers a rented room and food.
Sarah ponders. Would you like to work as an accountant again? A regular position, no management?
I would love to, Irene brightens. But they wont take me. I told them
They will if I recommend you, Sarah says, pulling Victors card from her bag. The man Im dining with today is hiring a chief accountant. Ill accept the job if he also hires you.
Irenes eyes widen. You you want to help me after everything I did?
Yes, Sarah replies simply. I want to help.
But why? Irene asks, confused. I was so terrible to you!
Because Im not like you, Sarah stands. I dont seek revenge. I want people to improve. Youve changed, I can see that.
Irene grabs Sarahs hand. Sarah Parker, I dont know what to say. I dont deserve your kindness.
Everyone who repents deserves a chance, Sarah says, releasing her hand. But theres a condition: if you ever mistreat anyone again, Ill make sure youre fired. Agreed?
Agreed! Irene exclaims, earnest. I swear Ive changed! I wont
Well see, Sarah says, heading to the door. Tomorrow Ill call Victor and sort everything out. Ill let you know.
Irene Whitaker! Thank you, thank you so much, she calls after her. For the forgiveness, the help for being better than me.
Sarah turns back. Dont thank me yet. Youll have a lot of work, and Ill be demanding but fair. Be ready.
She exits the staff room, feeling light and at peace. She chose forgiveness over vengeance, compassion over spite.
The next day, Sarah calls Victor.
I accept your offer, she says. But I have a condition.
Im listening, Victor replies.
I need an assistant. An experienced accountant I know, currently in a tough spot with a conditional conviction. If you take her, Ill start next week.
So Im responsible for this person? Victor asks.
Yes, Sarah confirms.
Deal, Victor says. She can come with you.
Sarah contacts the restaurant.
Please inform Irene Whitaker, she says. We need her documents ready. We start Monday.
A trembling voice answers, Thank you I wont let you down.
On Monday, Sarah and Irene walk into the new office together. Victor greets them warmly, shows them their desks, and explains the workflow.
Irene works quietly, focused, never looking away from the spreadsheets. She completes every task quickly and accurately.
At lunch, they sit in a nearby café.
May I ask something? Irene ventures.
Go ahead, Sarah replies.
Why did you do it? I ruined your life, sent you to the hospital, and yet you helped me. Why?
Sarah sips her coffee, thinking.
You know, Irene, I was angry for a long time. That anger ate me from the inside. Then I realized it didnt help me, it only wasted my energy. I let go, forgave, and moved on.
She pauses, recalling the night at the restaurant.
At first, I was thrilledjustice, karma. Then I saw your tears, heard your story, and realized you were already punished enough. I didnt want to crush someone already at the bottom.
Irene nods, eyes bright with gratitude.
Revenge never makes you happy, Sarah continues. Helping does.
Thank you, Irene whispers.
Weeks pass. Irene arrives early, leaves late, never complains. She treats a new junior colleague, fresh from university, with patience, guiding her through tasks without raising her voice.
One evening, Sarah approaches her.
You handled the newcomer well today, Sarah says.
Irene smiles shyly. I remembered how you once came to me, nervous and inexperienced. I was cruel then. Now I feel ashamed. I try to be different, to help rather than hurt.
Keep it up, Sarah pats her shoulder. Youre doing great.
Their relationship shifts from formal to almost friendly. They share lunches, discuss news, exchange plans. Irene opens up about her life; Sarah does the same.
Im grateful for what happened, Irene admits one day. Losing everything taught me to value people, to be kinder. I was horrible before, but I hope Im better now.
You are, Sarah affirms. Im glad I could help.
You saved me, Irene says, gripping Sarahs hand. Literally. I thought my life was over when I was a waitress. You reached out and pulled me from the bottom.
Sarah can only give a firm handshake.
Six months later, Irene secures a decent flat, buys new clothes, even looks younger. Most importantly, she has changed insideshes now a considerate, helpful person.
A tax inspector visits the office, harsh and demanding, looking for any infraction.
Irene tightens, her expression flashing through irritation, anger, and a desire to snap back.
Instead, she remains calm, answers politely, provides documents, and says, Excuse us, but we comply fully with the law. If you find any errors, please point them out and well correct them.
The inspection ends without any penalties. The inspector leaves, and Irene exhales, looking at Sarah.
Did I pass? she asks.
Perfectly, Sarah smiles. Im proud of you.
Before, I would have lost it, caused a scene, Irene admits. Now I see that aggression only breeds more aggression. Patience disarms even the toughest people.
Sarah nods. Her experiment succeeded; Irene truly transformed. Forgiveness proved the right path.
Walking home later, Sarah reflects on how oddly life turns. Seven years ago she suffered under a tyrannical boss, dreaming of revenge. Now that same woman is a colleague, almost a friend, and Sarah feels glad she chose forgiveness. Revenge would never have made her happy; helping another did.
She recalls the desperate, ashamed look on Irenes face that night in the restaurant, and now sees a calm, grateful expression.
She made the right choice and has no regrets.
