I walked to the counter.
“I’d like a refund,” I said calmly. “We’re leaving.”
The server blinked. “We don’t do refunds after the order is prepared.”
“I haven’t touched it.”
“It’s still against policy.”
Policy again.
I stared at the untouched cup, the perfect foam art on top, already beginning to sink.
“You forced my wife to stand outside,” I said. My voice shook despite my effort to stay composed. “Over nothing.”
“She needed to order something.”
“We paid. Together.”
“She didn’t consume anything.”
That was the phrase she kept repeating. Consume.
As if Elena’s worth in that space depended entirely on whether she swallowed something from their menu.
I didn’t argue further. There was no point.
I left the coffee and cake exactly where they were and walked out.
When I stepped onto the sidewalk, Elena tried to smile.
“It’s okay,” she said again, like she was the one comforting me.
But it wasn’t okay.
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