A smile is the price of survival ”

The clinking of utensils and the low hum of conversation continued uninterrupted, creating an eerie contrast to the unease bubbling between Hailey and Maxwell.

"I guess this is just the lifestyle here," Maxwell said, breaking the silence. His voice was tinged with an awkward laugh, but his eyes darted around the room. "Seems like everyone's used to this—except us."

Hailey crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair. "Yeah, I guess," she muttered, her tone flat. Her gaze shifted to the extravagant chandelier overhead, its shimmering crystals swaying ever so slightly as if moved by some unseen force.

Maxwell, ever the optimist, leaned forward and gestured toward the food on their table. "Hey, relax. It's just our first day. I'm sure we'll get used to this place. Besides, it'll get better." He picked up his fork and jabbed at the plate in front of him. "Look at this. It actually looks kinda delicious."

Hailey raised an eyebrow, her lips pressing into a thin line. "Yeah, sure. Let's hope it doesn't come with a side of whatever the hell is going on here," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Come on," Maxwell urged with a chuckle, trying to lighten the mood. "Let's eat before it gets cold. You haven't eaten all day, and we've got the whole of tomorrow ahead of us. We'll figure everything out then."

Hailey sighed, relenting, and picked up her fork. She hesitated for a moment before taking a bite. Almost immediately, her expression softened. "Mmm," she murmured, her voice a mix of surprise and delight. "Not joking—this food is amazing."

Maxwell grinned, visibly relieved. "See? I told you. Maybe this place has a few perks after all."

Hailey rolled her eyes but couldn't hide the small smile tugging at her lips. She took another bite, savoring the unexpected burst of flavor. For a moment, the tension between them eased, the strange happenings around them temporarily forgotten as they focused on their meal.

This food might be my only reason for staying the whole week," Hailey said, breaking the silence. She set her fork down and glanced at Maxwell, who rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath, "Yeah, right."

A few tables away, an elderly couple sat quietly, their demeanor calm and measured as they ate. They seemed content, the man occasionally leaning in to murmur something to the woman, who would nod with a small smile.

"Rush, when will this ever be over?" the woman whispered, her voice low but urgent. She darted a glance toward Hailey and Maxwell, her hand trembling slightly as it rested on the table. "The new couple has already taken their first meal. You know how it always is by their third—"

"Shhh, Sarah," the man, Rush, interrupted, his voice firm but not unkind. "We've spoken about this."

Sarah's lips tightened into a thin line, her frustration barely concealed. "I can't take it anymore," she hissed. "Watching this for more than a decade and not being able to say a word—it's killing me."

Rush sighed deeply, setting his utensils down with a deliberate calm. He reached across the table and placed a weathered hand over hers. "There's nothing we can do, Sarah, and you know it. If you've forgotten, these moments are our moments too. Let them have their time."

Sarah opened her mouth to protest, but before she could respond, a waiter on roller skates zipped past their table, his movements impossibly smooth and precise. He carried a silver tray laden with drinks, the glasses clinking softly.

"They're coming," Rush said suddenly, his tone sharp. His fingers tightened slightly around Sarah's hand. "Smile."

Sarah hesitated, her expression flickering between defiance and resignation. But after a moment, she forced a smile onto her face—one that might have fooled anyone not sitting so close.

"Remember, my love," Rush said softly, his voice tinged with both affection and weariness but still managed to put on a creepy smile . " A smile is the price of survival "

Sarah held her smile, though her eyes betrayed her turmoil. She glanced toward Hailey and Maxwell once more, her gaze lingering on them as if seeing something they couldn't yet understand.

The waitress glided swiftly over to Hailey and Maxwell's table, her movements fluid and precise. She paused, her smile wide and unnervingly fixed, her posture exuding a rigid attentiveness as if their response held some dire consequence.

"I trust you're enjoying your meal?" she asked, her voice chipper but tinged with something overly rehearsed, almost strained.

Maxwell nodded, glancing at Hailey. "We're actually enjoying ourselves," he replied. Then, with a teasing grin, he added, "My girlfriend here can't stop praising the food."

Hailey rolled her eyes and lightly smacked his arm.

The waitress responded with a sharp, mechanical laugh that echoed unnaturally, making both Hailey and Maxwell flinch. Her grin didn't falter for even a second. "I'm glad to hear that," she said, her tone oddly clipped. "It's important that you enjoyed your meal. Please let me know if there's anything else you need."

With that, she stood there for a beat too long, her unblinking gaze flitting between them, before turning sharply and gliding away to the next table.

Hailey leaned in and whispered, "That laugh was horrible," before letting out a chuckle of her own. "She sounded almost like… errr…"

"A machine," they both said in unison, their voices overlapping as they exchanged a knowing look.

They fell into a brief silence, the playful mood between them slowly fading as a strange unease crept in. The room, once filled with the hum of conversation, now felt oddly stifling, as if the air itself had thickened. The clinking of silverware and soft murmurs from nearby tables seemed distant, almost muffled, and Hailey found herself glancing around, trying to shake the unsettling feeling that had settled over her. Her eyes fell on the elderly couple once more. The woman's unblinking smile and the man's sharp, watchful gaze felt almost too deliberate, as though they were part of some unspoken ritual neither Hailey nor Maxwell could comprehend.

Maxwell shifted in his chair, the once-delicious meal now cold and unappetizing in front of him. The easy banter they'd shared just moments ago seemed to have evaporated. "Let's just get through this week," Hailey murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. She didn't meet his gaze, instead keeping her eyes on her plate, as if doing so might somehow anchor her.

But even as the words left her lips, the feeling of being watched only deepened, a prickle along her spine that wouldn't go away. She looked around again, her eyes sweeping over the other diners, but they all appeared engrossed in their own meals—too calm, too composed. It was as if they were all playing their parts in a script she hadn't been given.

Maxwell took a deep breath, trying to push the tension away, but neither of them could shake the sense that something, or someone, was watching them more closely than they realized. The weight of it pressed in, and the night, once so promising, now felt like it had only just begun.