The next day, Tom decided to walk around the city. He was looking for a new place to rent. He wanted something simple and quiet, no matter the price. By lunchtime, he still hadn't found anything that felt right.
Hungry, he stepped into a small restaurant that served stews. He glanced at the menu and ordered the first dish he recognized.
A waitress brought his food. She had a bright smile and kind eyes. "I don't think I've seen you here before," she said. "First time?"
Tom nodded. "Yeah."
She set the plate down in front of him. "Well, welcome! My name's Tifanny. This place is a family business. My dad and I run it together."
Tom tried the food. "It's good," he said simply.
Her smile widened. "I'm glad you like it. You should come here for lunch more often. We make everything fresh, and I promise it'll always taste this good."
Tom nodded again. He knew she was just promoting the place, but there was something warm about her. Even so, he found her a bit nosy. "Thanks," he said, keeping it brief.
Tifanny didn't seem to mind. "Enjoy your meal!" she said cheerfully before walking away.
As Tom ate his meal, a group of three men in business suits entered the restaurant. They looked serious and walked straight to the counter. Tifanny greeted them with her usual bright smile, but her expression turned uneasy as they spoke.
Tom couldn't hear what they were saying, but the conversation didn't look pleasant.
After a moment, Tifanny excused herself and went into the staff room. She came back with an older man, who Tom guessed was her father. The man had kind but tired eyes, and his shoulders slouched slightly as he approached the group.
Tom watched as the father spoke to the men in suits. From their body language, it seemed the old man was pleading with them. The men, however, appeared cold and unbothered. After a few tense minutes, they finally left.
Tifanny and her father stood together at the counter, both letting out deep sighs of relief. They exchanged a few quiet words before Tifanny returned to work, trying to put on a brave face for the other customers.
Tom noticed all of this but decided not to get involved. It wasn't his business, and he assumed such encounters were common for them. He finished his meal, paid his bill, and stepped out into the street.
Tom eventually found an apartment that was as quiet as he wanted. It was simple and tucked away from the busy streets. He made the deposit and arranged to move in immediately.
It was easy—he only brought his valuables, leaving all his furniture behind to avoid drawing attention. He planned to buy new furnishings the next day.
That evening, as he stepped out to explore the neighborhood, he heard loud voices echoing through the hallway.
A girl was yelling, and the other voice sounded familiar—he recognized it as the landlord's. Curious, he followed the sound a few steps down the hall and stopped.
There, in front of an apartment not far from his, he saw Tifanny, the cheerful waitress from the restaurant. She looked completely different now. Her face was flushed with frustration, her hands gesturing wildly as she argued with the landlord.
"I told you I need more time!" Tifanny's voice cracked slightly, and her eyes were glistening with unshed tears. "I just need one more week!"
The landlord, an older man with a stern face, didn't seem moved. "A week. That's all you've got," he said coldly before turning on his heel and walking away.
Tifanny stood there for a moment, frozen, her chest rising and falling as she tried to calm herself. When she turned, she spotted Tom standing a short distance away, watching.
Her eyes widened in shock, and her face turned bright red, the earlier frustration replaced by embarrassment. She quickly looked down, her lips trembling as she seemed to search for something to say. But no words came.
Without a word, she turned and darted into her apartment, slamming the door shut with a loud bang.
Tom stood there for a moment, feeling awkward but unsure what to do.