"EH? Where’s my steak?" I exclaimed, clearly outraged.

"Mine’s gone too?" Benjamin, Elizabeth, and Luca echoed, their expressions equally baffled and disoriented. Only Midori and Nicole, the calmest ones at the table, had their plates untouched.

Carlos, with that smug smile plastered across his face and a mischievous glint in his eyes, looked at us all and declared proudly, “You were talking too much and eating too little. Clearly, you weren’t hungry anymore. My mother taught me never to waste food.”

For a moment, silence hung over the table as we all processed what had just happened. Carlos, already finishing the last bite of his meal and dabbing his mouth with a cloth napkin, looked utterly unbothered. The absurdity of the situation hit us all at once, and indignation quickly replaced the shock.

“Why didn’t you touch Midori’s or Nicole’s plates—just ours?” Luca demanded, his voice tinged with frustration. He had been saving the best cut of meat for last, only to discover it had vanished like magic.

Carlos’s grin grew even wider, full of mischief, as if he had been waiting for this very question. “I’m not crazy or ungrateful. Midori is the reason we’re here in the first place. Without her, none of this would be happening. And besides, she never stopped eating—even while the rest of you were busy chatting.” 

"And as for Nicole..." He paused dramatically, carefully choosing his words. "Well, I’d like to stay alive to enjoy tomorrow’s delicacies."

Nicole, who had been silent until now, shot Carlos a death glare that could have cut through steel, though she still said nothing.

“Carlos, do you realize you basically stole food from all of us?” Elizabeth asked, her tone dangerously sweet, though her expression was anything but friendly.

“I didn’t steal anything. I merely did what any sensible person would do: rescued food that was about to be wasted,” Carlos replied with the serene confidence of a wolf explaining the virtues of hunting.

“Well, I guess it’s our fault for not guarding our plates,” Elizabeth sighed, shaking her head with a faint smile. She knew there was no point in dragging the argument any further.

A ripple of nervous laughter spread across the table, though no one dared to challenge Carlos any more.

“We can always just order more,” Midori said nonchalantly, reminding everyone that, after all, she was footing the bill.

Carlos’s eyes lit up at Midori’s remark. “Midori, you’re an angel—no, a goddess,” he declared, already gearing up to order another round of dishes.

She simply watched him with an amused and curious smile, marveling at how so much food could possibly fit into such a slender frame. Oblivious to the astonishment of those around him, Carlos continued stacking plates with the gleeful enthusiasm of a child, utterly unconcerned by the growing pile in front of him.

The group’s laughter filled the air—a joyful and familiar sound, one of those perfect moments when the world seems to pause, leaving only the table, the friends, the warmth of camaraderie, and the delicious food.

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and warm bread mingled with the gentle autumn breeze flowing through the open window. The golden morning sunlight filtered through the amber and crimson leaves, casting a warm, glowing hue across the scene. Autumn had always held a certain magic, a promise of calm moments and comforting scents lingering in the air. But, as always, the unexpected lurked just beyond the surface.

As conversations drifted to movies, vacation plans, and the latest series everyone had been watching, something felt... off. I couldn’t quite explain it, but an unease settled into my mind. My gaze drifted toward the window, where falling leaves seemed to descend in an oddly deliberate manner, as if nature itself were moving in slow motion.

Then, it happened.

A muffled, urgent voice shattered the rhythm of our chatter—a distant shout, frantic and filled with desperation:

“WATCH OUT! GET OUT OF THERE!”

Before anyone could react, the screech of skidding tires and the roar of an out-of-control engine filled the air. I turned my head toward the window just in time to see it: a massive truck hurtling toward us, its metallic bulk hurtling forward at terrifying speed. Everything seemed to slow down.

The driver, pale and desperate, wrestled with the steering wheel, his efforts to regain control futile.

And then, the collision.

The deafening crash erupted as the truck slammed into the restaurant. The large window directly in front of us shattered instantly, sending shards of glass flying through the air like razor-sharp rain. The sound reverberated off the walls, and for a fleeting moment, the world seemed to hold its breath.

Then, silence.

A profound, eerie stillness enveloped everything, as if time itself had stopped.

It had been a beautiful autumn morning... but no longer. In that instant, reality fractured, just like the shattered glass now scattered across the floor, glinting faintly in the warm sunlight.

If only it had ended there.

It had been a beautiful autumn morning, yes—but it was also the end of everything.