My ex husband is my boss

*PART 4*

As I stood before the gate of the luxurious Dinning Hall Restaurant, I couldn't help but admire the exquisite interior of the modern building. The Italian-inspired design, with its expensive woodwork and Roman Greek-style tiles, made it a sight to behold. However, my familiarity with such luxury establishments left me unimpressed.

As I approached the gate, ready to enter, a black-clad guard stepped in my way. He raised his hands, signaling that I couldn't go inside.

"Sorry, you can't go in," he said, blocking my path.

Curious and not wanting to cause a scene, I asked politely, "May I know why I can't enter?"

"I'm sorry, but this restaurant is reserved for the wealthy class, and you..." he hesitated, glancing at my attire.

He was right. The clothes I was wearing were ordinary and inexpensive, which led him to assume that I was poor. I wasn't saddened by the fact that he indirectly called me poor but rather disheartened by the tendency of people to judge others based on their appearance.

"I'm here for lunch, and don't worry, I won't run away without paying the bill," I tried to conceal my embarrassment, but the guard saw through it.

"I'm truly sorry, ma'am, but it's the restaurant's policy to not allow anyone who looks..." he stopped himself mid-sentence. However, I understood what he wanted to say was "poor."

I could sense the sadness in his voice because I knew we both came from the same middle-class background. I could tell that he disliked the act of discriminating against people who were in the same position as him. But it was his job, his means of livelihood.

I didn't feel anger or shame at being insulted in front of a luxury restaurant. Instead, I felt sorrow at the pervasive judgment based on one's clothing and the discrimination that stems from a person's wealth.

As I stood near the gate, waiting for James to arrive, an idea crossed my mind. If he came with me, perhaps we could enter together, and they would assume I was accompanying him. James always carried himself with a representative and classy appearance, matching the high-class society. Maybe I should wait for him.

My stomach growled loudly, and I found myself scrolling through my Instagram account to distract myself. Fifteen minutes had passed, and James hadn't shown up yet. I was getting incredibly hungry but didn't want to appear desperate by calling him.

As people passed by, I found myself identifying the scents they were wearing. "This scent is from that brand, oh! This one is from a floral brand," I silently guessed the perfumes they wore. I was well-versed in all the brands, their scents, and which trends were popular across the country. I had a time when I too used to wear those perfumes and brands, after all.

While I continued scrolling through Instagram and guessing perfume scents, a familiar fragrance suddenly caught my attention. "No! It's the same scent," I murmured, trying to locate the person wearing it. I turned my head and noticed a group of five individuals heading towards the restaurant's door. It wasn't just any group; they were bodyguards.

In the center of the group, I saw a man walking towards the door. Even from behind, his tall stature and striking personality were evident. He wore a branded jacket, leather shoes, and a cowboy hat, but it was undoubtedly a high-end brand. He exuded the aura of a wealthy boss or a celebrity, surrounded by four bodyguards protecting his affluent presence.

I couldn't help but stare at the man and his bodyguards as they reached the door and entered the restaurant. There was something oddly familiar about him, and his fragrance matched the one I had noticed earlier. I pondered for a moment, trying to connect the dots.

"That man seems familiar, and his scent was the same," I mumbled to myself, shifting my position to get a better view. Lost in my thoughts, I accidentally bumped into someone.

"What the hell!" exclaimed a girl in a red Gucci dress, who had fallen to the ground due to the collision. Her Gucci shoes and bag lay on the ground, getting dirty from the impact.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry," I quickly apologized, helping her up from the ground. I felt genuinely sorry for knocking her down and ruining her branded outfit.

"I didn't see you coming, I'm really sorry," I said, bowing my head in an apologetic manner.

I extended my hand to help the girl in the red Gucci dress up from the ground. However, instead of accepting my gesture, she looked at me with disdain and brushed off her dress with a look of disgust.

"You should watch where you're going, you clumsy peasant," she sneered, her voice dripping with condescension.

Taken aback by her harsh words, I tried to diffuse the situation. "I apologize once again. It was an accident, and I didn't mean any harm," I replied, keeping my voice calm despite the insult.

She scoffed, rolling her eyes in a dismissive manner. "Save your pathetic apologies. People like you don't belong here. This is a place for the elite, not some lowly commoner."

I felt a surge of indignation rise within me, but I knew it wasn't worth engaging in an argument with her. Instead, I took a deep breath and decided to walk away, not wanting to spoil my day any further.

As I turned to leave, I noticed the girl whispering something to one of her bodyguards. The bodyguard, a tall and imposing figure, moved towards me with a stern expression on his face.

"Excuse me, miss," he said firmly, blocking my path. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave. We don't tolerate your kind in this establishment."

My heart sank as I realized the unfairness of the situation. It seemed that the girl's entitled behavior had prompted her to summon her bodyguard to take action against me, simply because I didn't fit into her definition of the elite.

With a mix of frustration and disappointment, I quietly nodded and complied with the bodyguard's request. I made my way out of the restaurant, feeling the weight of discrimination and prejudice heavy on my shoulders.

As I walked away, I couldn't help but reflect on the stark contrast between the luxurious interior of the restaurant and the ugliness of judgment and classism that I had just encountered. It was a reminder that appearances and material wealth didn't define a person's worth, and that true character lay in how we treated others, regardless of their social status.