I stared at his face, sharp and striking, and a name from the past resurfaced. “Roman,” I whispered.
His gaze met mine, steady and unflinching. “Yeah. It’s me.”
Memories came flooding back. Roman used to work as a line cook at the diner nearly two decades ago. He was easygoing, charming, and well-liked by everyone. And then he was fired for stealing – cash was missing from the register and tip jar, and it was found in his backpack. The scandal had shaken the diner.
“You stole that money,” I blurted out, the accusation flying out before I could stop it. “You emptied out the register and tips.”
His expression darkened, but he didn’t flinch. “No, I didn’t. I’ve said it before – I was set up. I lost everything because of something I didn’t do.”
My mind was reeling. Back then, I believed the worst of him, as did everyone else. Carl, the diner owner, had been convinced, and the evidence seemed irrefutable. But now, looking into Roman’s eyes, doubt crept in.
“You have to believe me,” Roman said, his voice trembling. “I had a good salary – why would I throw that away? Carl found the money in my bag because someone put it there.”
Miranda. The name hit me like a slap. She used to be a waitress at the diner, quiet and reserved. She left just days after Roman was fired. Could she have planted the money? The thought gnawed at me.
“I didn’t realize…” My voice broke. “Have you been on the streets all this time?”
He shrugged, the pain in his eyes answering for him. We sat down at the table and he shared the struggles he faced after losing his job. Bills piled up, opportunities vanished, and one setback led to another until he had nothing left.
The guilt weighed heavily on me. I had believed the worst without question. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I should have helped you back then.”
“You’re helping me now,” he said softly. “That counts.”
The next morning, I made a decision to do more. I called Carl, pleading Roman’s case and sharing my suspicions about Miranda. Carl was skeptical, but eventually agreed to give Roman a trial shift at the diner.
Watching Roman work that day, I saw his quiet focus and determination. He approached the job with such gratitude and resolve that humbled me.
Sometimes, life gives us a chance to make things right. Roman had suffered for years for a crime he didn’t commit, but that night by the dumpster, fate gave me the opportunity to change his story – and mine. Compassion may not erase the past, but it has the power to rewrite the future.