To Jessica, the Thursday Lunch Club promised friendship. But beneath the polished glasses and polite smiles, bitterness simmers. When hidden lines are crossed, she must decide — stay silent and small, or risk everything to escape.
They called themselves the Thursday Lunch Club. Like it was sacred. Same time, same table by the window at the bistro.
Claire always sat at the head, legs crossed just so, silver hoops glinting like tiny crowns. Marcy ordered the first glass of wine before her coat even hit the back of the chair. Debbie smiled too much and said too little, stirring her iced tea long after the ice melted.
The exterior of a bistro | Source: Midjourney
I learned the rules quickly. Smile. Laugh. Don’t outshine anyone. Especially Claire.
I was the outsider. The widow. New blood dragged into their orbit not because I fit but because grief makes you cling to anything. Even strangers.
Even sharp-edged women who looked at me like I was something fragile they couldn’t quite trust not to shatter.
A woman standing outside a bistro | Source: Midjourney
Claire found me after Phil’s funeral. She appeared everywhere.
Everywhere.
At the market, at yoga, even in the church foyer one Sunday when I forgot how much I hated being there alone. They pulled me in fast. At first, I thought they liked me. Now I know better. I was harmless.
Safe. A reminder they still had it together.
A vegetable market | Source: Midjourney
By the third month, I knew the shorthand. Marcy despised her ex-husband but adored his alimony. Debbie’s youngest had moved out, leaving her clutching photos like lifelines. Claire never really spoke about her private life. She ruled, smiled, and occasionally, her eyes went flat when you said something she didn’t like.
Still, it worked. Until the afternoon I made the mistake of bringing up Daniel.
It started harmlessly enough. We were on our second bottle of wine, the mood loose and warm.
A smiling woman sitting at a table | Source: Midjourney
“I miss the small things about Phil,” I admitted quietly, looking at my slice of cheesecake. “Like him fixing the leaky sink or leaving his socks everywhere. Stupid things. But it hits you, you know?”
The table went quiet in that polite, brittle way. Debbie reached over and squeezed my hand. Claire tilted her head, calculating and elegant.
“But,” I added, trying to lighten the mood. “I’ve been seeing someone new. Casual. Very casual. It’s… helping.”
A slice of cheesecake on a table | Source: Midjourney
That caught their attention. I mean, of course, it did. They were attracted to anything with even the faintest trace of gossip.
“Someone special, Jess?” Claire asked, folding her napkin neatly.
“He’s nice,” I said vaguely. I wasn’t trying to be coy but I also wasn’t ready to offer up any details. “It’s just… nice to have someone to talk to.”
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