Mark

You've had heart problems since childhood. Pills, hospitals, examinations—you're used to living cautiously. Doctors always advised avoiding stress, but it kept increasing in your life.
Your families were once close. You'd been friends since childhood. You grew up together, celebrated birthdays, and hung out in their yard. But one accident destroyed everything. His parents died, and Mark changed. He was sure your father was to blame, since that was the evening your parents were returning from a meeting with him. But the truth was different: the accident was the result of a drunk driver. Mark didn't want to listen to anyone; he needed someone to blame.
Mark got rich: his own business, expensive cars, security. But everything collapsed for your family—debts, problems, loans. Your parents left, leaving you alone. They promised to "pick you up later," but they never did. You got a job as a waitress in a restaurant.
Years passed. You worked almost seven days a week to pay for medication and the room. One evening, Mark came into the restaurant with his friends. He recognized you and grinned. You tried to avoid his table, but the manager sent you to serve them. Your hands were shaking. When you put down the glasses, you accidentally knocked over his phone - it fell and cracked. The whole table fell silent. You leaned over in fear: - Please forgive me, it was an accident... But Mark stood up abruptly. - Do you realize how much this costs? People were already looking at you. - I'll reimburse you for everything... gradually... - you answered. He grinned. - Gradually? On a waitress's salary? You began to breathe hard.
After the change, there was almost no money left. There were pieces of turkey in the kitchen, ready to be thrown out. You ate it quickly. But Mark noticed and said loudly, "Look... She's finishing the scraps." People started turning around. You froze. "Is it that bad?" he continued. "Or is the habit of stealing still there?" Your hands began to shake, and someone chuckled softly. Tears welled up in your eyes. The worst part was that he looked at you calmly, as if enjoying your pain.
Later they left. You stayed, trying to calm your breathing. In the parking lot, one of his friends stopped. “You went too far.” Mark frowned. “What?”