(Please read the note at the end!)
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I am tired of ignoring the creepy side eyes of my co-workers and my customers.
Owning my own restaurant in one of the most populous cities in the United States provided me with fame, money, satisfaction, and everything an early-thirties person could want. However, with a wonderful environment comes negativity from the same people.
I established Cuisine Français after moving to California with my family five years ago, and the restaurant had been in full swing and reaching new heights of success for three years. After its successful launch and the attention it earned, I launched another small branch of the same chain with the same name in Quebec, where I was born and raised with my family before settling in the United States.
The people who came here to try the food did so either because they were curious about the place after hearing about it from friends or because they already lived nearby. Some of the visitors were regulars, while others were tourists or even locals who created content for their food blogs.
Nevertheless, nobody who visited here ever left feeling let down.
Even as head chef, I was unable to keep an eye on everything that was happening in the kitchen. As a result, I had a number of sous chefs to handle the job in the kitchen and waiters to watch the main eating area outside the kitchen in case any guests needed anything.
After I had opened a single little place in Quebec, everything had been going wonderfully, but my mother had not stopped asking me about my plans for the future.
Future goals that include settling down and eventually starting a family.
"Will I ever get to be a grandmother or not?" My mother huffed before drinking her latte.
This was regular for her: coming into my workplace every weekend, buying a latte with a chocolate croissant and ordering the main chef (as she says while ordering her regulars), and then asking me the same question every time.
Other days, she was a full-time social butterfly.
"Mom." I complain. "I promised you that I would sometime, but not now." I am still working towards my goals and dreams."
"We've achieved a lot, son." She places her latte on the table and stares at me with soft eyes. "There was a time when I worked as a caretaker, and your father was a mere employee in your best friend's company." Her tone becomes softer. "Look at us now; we have everything that we wanted, but it's time for you to stop dedicating your life only to your work."
A sense of painful nostalgia hit my senses. It was as if I had been transported back in time, feeling a bittersweet longing for moments long gone.
When we lived in Quebec and I was a teenager, we all lived like any other family, having to think twice before spending every single penny. Despite the fact that my mother was the caregiver for the Grogans and my father was a manager in their firm under my best friend Jade's father, we were still experiencing financial difficulties.
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𝐃é𝐟𝐢 𝐌𝐨𝐢
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