Chapter Eight: The Diner

Daniel waited in the booth at Mel’s, the kind of place that hadn’t changed since the 70’s, and wore that fact like a badge of honor. The vinyl seats were cracked, the linoleum dull, and the smell of burnt coffee and grease clung to the air like memory.

His coffee sat untouched, growing cold. He’d ordered it out of habit, not desire.

He looked more disheveled than he had earlier his dark charcoal suit still clinging to his frame, but his red tie was gone, stuffed into a coat pocket, and the top button of his shirt had long since been undone. His cuffs were rolled, exposing the tension in his forearms, veins taut, fingers tapping restlessly against the chipped ceramic of the mug.

He checked his watch. Zenith, not Rolex. Not Cartier. It was a reminder of a different kind of success. Quieter. Earned.

Daniel had bought it after winning his first major case in corporate law. After years of scraping by doing legal aid, after seeing women flinch and kids cry and broken men break others. The Zenith had been his reward, not for wealth, but for surviving that shift. For stepping into a world that didn’t want him and taking up space anyway.

But tonight it just ticked on like a judge’s gavel, counting down to a verdict he wasn’t sure he wanted.

He raked a hand through his curls and exhaled. His eyes were bloodshot, rimmed with fatigue. He was tired. Anger was exhausting a constant hum behind the ribs, a slow grind of the jaw, a clench you couldn’t shake.

And now, it had nowhere left to go.

He thought about Olivia. About her face when he told her to take off her shirt.

About how she flinched.

About how he stopped.

He thought about Samantha.

About trust. About touch. About betrayal.

He rubbed his temples, then dropped his hand, stared into the black swirl of coffee like it might give him some kind of answer.

The door chime jingled. A soft, unassuming sound. He didn’t look up right away. But he knew. He could hear the subtle sound of Marissa’s golden bangles and the click of her trademark boots.

She wasn’t like Olivia, wearing dark leather and heavy eyeliner. She was warm, wearing soft camel cardigan over a brown blouse, her braided bun perched high like a crown, Marissa moved through the diner like she belonged there without pretense, without performance. Her presence didn’t demand attention, but it had a gravity to it. Daniel could feel the air shift.

Their eyes met. Her face was unreadable, composed in that deliberate way Marissa had mastered over the years, still, but never vacant. And yet, even in this moment, Daniel was struck by how beautiful she was.

Not the kind of beauty that announced itself. No. Marissa’s beauty was subtle, deliberate. A full face with smooth, deep-brown skin that caught the diner’s low lighting like burnished bronze. But it wasn’t softness that defined her. Not really. There was steel beneath the roundness of her cheeks, a quiet edge behind those deep-set eyes.

Her gaze didn’t pierce, it held. Warm, but unflinching. Like she was reading him, studying the shape of his silence.

He remembered once, Samantha had joked that Marissa looked like a woman who was always five minutes away from ruining a man’s life with a smile.

Daniel hadn’t laughed then. He didn’t laugh now. Because he knew even then: Marissa didn’t need to raise her voice to break you. She just had to look at you like this.

She slid into the booth, setting her bag gently beside her. In spite of the mystery involved in dragging her here, she still smiled politely.

Daniel cleared his throat. “Thanks for coming.”

Marissa glanced at the mug in front of him, then at the untouched coffee. “That’s the saddest thing I’ve seen all day,” she said softly.

He gave a faint, humorless huff. “It’s been a long day.”

She nodded once. “So …” her warm brown eyes scanned the dinner and then Daniel. He had this dark tired expression about him. “Why’d you ask me here?”

Daniel swallowed. He looked at her the slight arch of her thick brows, the curve of her fingers against the table, the quiet patience she wore like armor. He wondered, briefly, if she already knew. If Olivia had told her. If she had suspected something.

“Daniel.” Her voice was still warm, but it had sharpened just slightly. There was a weight to the way she said his name, like a warning cloaked in velvet. She was a master at that. Quiet restraint with just enough bite to make you sit up straighter.

He sighed and rubbed his temples. “Listen, I need to tell you something …” he paused and she raised a brow. “And it’s not going to be easy.”

Marissa didn’t move. Didn’t blink. She just waited. And that was the worst part. Knowing that he was going to hurt her.

“Samantha she’s been cheating on me,” he finally said.

Marissa’s eyes softened a moment, of course she understood why he looked like he did. Why he had been in need to call someone. She did understand why her though. Not until he said the next part.

“She and Olivia have been sleeping together.”

That was like a sudden clash of lightning. A Statement so bold and maddening it bordered on conspiratorial. “What?”

Before she could ask more Daniel looked at her, “Just listen, please.”

And she did.

Daniel told her everything. He spared no detail.

He told her about the photos, the videos, the affair that had been happening right under his nose. He told her about the bar, about Olivia, about what he had tried to do—what he almost did.

And he showed her the proof.

Marissa didn’t speak for a long time.

She just sat there, staring at the photos, flipping through them slowly, her dark eyes scanning over every detail, every betrayal.

When she finally looked up at him, her expression was unreadable.

But he could see it in her eyes. The understanding.

Because they were the same. They had always understood each other in ways they didn’t talk about.

Being minorities in white spaces meant swallowing rage every single day. Because anger wasn’t safe for them. Anger was a weapon other people used against them. And Marissa, like Daniel, had learned to be careful with it.

Marissa set Daniel’s phone down. She folded her hands together, thumbs pressing against each other in slow, deliberate rhythm.

“I should’ve known,” she said finally.

Her voice was quiet, not broken—but measured. A calmness that came only from being past the point of shock.

Daniel watched her closely. “You couldn’t have known. Neither of us could.”

Marissa gave him a look, sharp and tired. “I did know. Well, not exactly. Not like this. But I knew something wasn’t right.” She inhaled deeply, then exhaled through her nose. “She got distant. Closed off. Less… Fuck I don’t know. Less Olivia.”

“At first I thought it was stress from work, she’s been miserable at Langley and Partners. Her father’s been breathing down her neck about the firm.” Marissa scoffed it sounded like she was making excuses. “But then she started keeping her phone face down. Got cagey. And when I brought it up, she’d pivot. Turn it on me. Make it seem like I was insecure.”

Her lips tightened into a bitter line. “I believed her.”

“That’s what makes it hurt more,” Daniel said softly. “You didn’t doubt her. You trusted her.”

Marissa looked up at him. “And you trusted Samantha.”

He nodded.

The silence sat heavy between them.

Then, after a beat: “Do you think they love each other?” she asked.

Daniel’s jaw tensed. “I don’t know.”

Marissa leaned back slightly, her fingers brushing against her temple. “I keep asking myself which would hurt more. That it was just sex. Or that it wasn’t.”

Daniel stared down at his hands. “I think what hurts most is knowing it didn’t matter what it meant. They chose to lie anyway.”

Another pause.

“You know what’s funny?” she said. “People always say we’re the stable ones. You and me. The quiet ones. The rational ones. And maybe that’s true. But right now I want to scream.”

He smiled bitterly, “Yeah, I know the feeling.”

“I can’t believe you were gonna **** Olivia, that’s some dark shit.”

Daniel winced, the shame crawling back up his spine. “I know. In the end though I couldn’t go through with it.”

“That’s the only reason I’m still here,” she said crossing her arms. She didn’t say anything for a moment. Then she let out a breath through her nose and added, “but I get it.”

Daniel blinked, looked at her. “You do?”

“I mean, it’s fucked up. Don’t get me wrong.” Her eyes flicked over him, searching. “But after what they did? I understand wanting to make someone pay.”

Daniel leaned back against the booth, staring at the ceiling like he might find forgiveness in the cracked plaster. “That’s the problem. I didn’t just want to hurt Olivia. I wanted her to feel powerless. The way I felt.”

Marissa didn’t flinch. “And then?”

“I saw her flinch. And I saw myself.” His voice was quiet now. “And I thought of my son. What kind of man I’d be if I went through with it.”

Marissa didn’t answer. She just nodded once, then reached for the mug in front of her and took a sip, despite the bitter taste. She wasn’t trying to comfort him. She was trying to understand him. There was a difference.

They sat across each other for a while, Marissa wondering how one even departs a conversation like this.

And then Daniel’s phone buzzed.

Both of them glanced at it.

Samantha

Daniel stared at the screen. The contact photo, a candid shot from some trip upstate, Samantha in sunglasses, laughing mid-sentence burned into his vision.

Marissa’s expression didn’t change, but she sat back slightly, folding her arms. “You gonna answer that?”

Daniel didn’t move for a beat. Then he slowly picked up the phone and read the message.

Samantha: We need to talk. Please. Tonight.

He felt the back of his throat tighten.

Marissa saw his face shift, something quiet and sick behind his eyes. “What’d she say?”

Daniel showed her the screen. Marissa read it, then sat in silence. Her face unreadable.

Then she said, “Are you going to?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted.

“You want to.”

He didn’t answer. He didn’t know how to answer