The doors opened smoothly, and warmth enveloped us as we stepped inside. The restaurant was alive with quiet energy. Low conversations murmured beneath soft music, glasses clinked, and somewhere nearby, something sizzled, releasing a rich, mouthwatering scent into the air. The lighting was dim but intentional, casting everything in a flattering glow that made the space feel intimate without being cramped.
The hostess greeted us with a professional smile. “Hello, I’m Sarah, and I’ll be your hostess for the evening. Do you have a reservation?”
“Yes,” I said, giving my name.
She checked her tablet and nodded. “Right this way.”
We followed her through the dining area, past neatly dressed tables and flickering candles. I noticed the way Evania’s eyes widened slightly as she took it all in, her attention drawn to carefully curated décor.
The hostess stopped near a window and pulled out a chair for Evania, who thanked her softly before sitting. I took the seat across from her as the hostess placed menus in front of us.
“Your server will be with you shortly,” she said, then left us alone.
Evania picked up her menu immediately.
“This is great,” she breathed, eyes scanning the page. “I’ve always wanted to come here.”
That made me pause.
“You have?” I asked.
She nodded eagerly, still looking down at the menu. “Yes. I’ve heard so many good things. People talk about this place like it’s life-changing.”
I smiled faintly. “That’s a pretty high standard.”
“I know,” she said, laughing softly. “But everyone swears the food is incredible.”
I watched her for a moment, the enthusiasm written plainly across her face, and felt an unexpected surge of satisfaction.
“I’m glad we could share the experience together,” I said, which earned a tiny smile from her.
“Well,” she says without looking up, “this is already stressful.”
I huff out a quiet laugh. “We just sat down.”
“I know,” she replies, flipping a page. “But there are too many options. Why would they do that to people?”
I tilt my head. “You’re anti-choice?”
“I’m anti too many choices,” she corrects. “Give me three solid options and let me live in peace.”
I glance down at my own menu. Steak. Chicken. Fish. Pasta. Variations of the same thing dressed up with different sauces.
“Then this place should be perfect for you,” I say. “It’s all the same food pretending to be different.”
She looks up at me, eyes bright with amusement. “You’re not wrong.”
I relax back into the seat, letting the menu rest on the table for now. I already knew what I wanted, having been here once before.
“So,” she says, folding her menu closed but keeping her finger tucked inside like a bookmark. “First impressions.”
I blinked. “Already?”
“Relax,” she said, eyes alight with mischief. “I meant about the restaurant.”
“Oh.” I nod. “It’s nice. I really like the lighting.”
“So,” she says, breaking it gently. “Are you always this calm?”
