A Free Coke, A Fatal Cost

I was working a dead-end job at a fried chicken joint when a delivery driver’s wife started a vicious rumor that I was sleeping with him.
All because I’d given him an extra Coke on the house.
I thought she was insane, so I just ignored it. But then she posted a secretly-shot, revealing photo of me changing in the locker room, and it went viral, racking up a million comments.
Men started lurking outside the restaurant late at night. One night, they dragged me into an alley and assaulted me. I called the police, but the internet just called me a slut who was asking for it.
My spirit broken, I threw myself off the Blackwood Bridge.
The next thing I knew, my eyes shot open. I was back at the restaurant, on the exact day the delivery driver came to pick up his order.

1
“Hey, sweetie, is that order ready? How about you toss in an extra Coke for your favorite driver…”
A delivery guy pushed open the door, phone pressed to his ear, shouting over at the counter.
“Unbelievable,” my coworker, Tim, muttered beside me with a sarcastic laugh. “The nerve of some people, always trying to get something for free.”
“He’s calling for you, sweetie. You handle it,” he said, nudging me. “I’ll go get the Coke. Better than getting a one-star review from this jerk.” He turned and grabbed an empty cup.
A jolt shot through me. My eyes locked onto the familiar face walking toward us.
It was him.
The driver’s name was Kevin. His route was in our area, so he was a regular. And in that instant, it hit me. I had been reborn.
In my past life, on this very day, Kevin had flirted with me while picking up an order. I felt sorry for him, sweating in the summer heat, so I gave him an extra Coke. I never imagined his wife would storm into the store, screaming that I was trying to steal her husband.
I’d thought she was crazy and refused to engage. But then she pulled out the photo—the one she’d somehow taken of me changing into my uniform—and claimed I was a waitress by day and a prostitute by night.
The post exploded online. The cyberbullying was relentless. Then came the assault in the alley. The crushing weight of the world’s malice broke me, made me doubt my own worth, and stole my will to live. Hopeless, I’d leaped from the bridge.
The suffocating sensation of the cold river water filled my lungs all over again.
“No!”
I lunged forward and smacked the paper cup out of Tim’s hand.
“We have to follow the store policy! The combo comes with one Coke, so he only gets one!”
Tim’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Annie, what’s gotten into you today? You’re acting nuts.” He gestured vaguely. “You were just spacing out a second ago. It’s just a Coke. We’ve given them out before.”
I watched Kevin’s approaching figure, taking a deep breath to calm the storm raging inside me. “Tim, I heard corporate is sending secret shoppers around. If we get caught, they’ll dock our pay.” I fabricated an excuse, my mind racing. “Besides, what if every driver starts demanding free stuff?”
Tim just shrugged, bending down to toss the fallen cup in the trash. “Ugh, if my mom wasn't sick, I’d be so out of this place. All these targets, all this 'customer is always right' crap. I'm not just worried about complaints anymore, now I've gotta worry about pissing off the delivery guys, too…”
He grumbled for a bit before moving to pack the next order. I ignored him, carefully placing Kevin’s meal into the delivery bag.
“God, it’s hot as hell out there,” Kevin said, leaning against the counter. He looked me up and down, a smirk playing on his lips. “That last one was for me. Did you sneak an extra Coke in there?” He leaned closer. “A pretty thing like you, I can tell you’ve got a good heart. We should get bubble tea after your shift.” He clicked his tongue. “Seriously, a total waste of those long legs, slinging chicken.”
I pretended not to hear him and turned to the prep station to bag an order of nuggets.
His phone was on speaker, and a woman’s sharp voice cut through the air. “Who are you talking to, honey? I’m warning you, if you’re messing with some little tramp… Full house! I win!”
“It’s nothing, babe. Just grabbing the food. I’m on my way back,” he cooed into the phone.
Through the front window, I saw him snatch the bag from the counter and head for the door. A wave of relief washed over me. This time, I was in the clear.
The lunch rush was over, leaving only a couple of occupied tables. At one of them, a stylishly dressed girl had her phone propped up, live-streaming a foodie review. Our place had a trendy, artsy vibe and our signature snacks were popular with the younger crowd, so we often had influencers filming here.
In my past life, Kevin had lingered at the counter, chatting me up, and I’d been too flustered to notice the streamer. On impulse, I walked over to the girl’s table, refilled her lemonade, and made a bit of small talk.
The moment I returned to the counter, Tim leaned in, whispering conspiratorially, “Hey, while you were busy, I felt bad for the guy. Looked like he was having a rough day. I threw in that extra Coke and repacked the bag for him.”
My body went rigid. I shot up from my stool.
“Tim, are you trying to get me killed?”
My voice was so sharp it made him flinch. He stammered, “W-what’s the big deal? Why are you freaking out?”
There was no time to explain. I bolted out the door, desperate to get that damn Coke back. If he left with it, history would repeat itself. I would die again, and Tim would lose his job.
But it was too late. The street was empty. Kevin was gone.
“What is wrong with you?” Tim demanded when I walked back in, looking completely defeated. “It’s one soda. You don’t have to make a federal case out of it.”
I looked up at him, the words caught in my throat. I felt an invisible force pushing me back onto the same dark path I’d walked before.
“Ding-dong! You have a new order…”
The bright chime of the order system pierced the silence. An idea sparked in my mind. “The system has his contact info,” I muttered to myself. “I can call him. I’ll just tell him the Coke was from you, Tim.”
I rushed to the terminal and started scrolling through the recent orders. Tim’s face darkened. “You’re sick,” he grumbled. “Fine, I’ll pay for the damn Coke myself.”
I couldn’t explain something as insane as being reborn, and I couldn’t think of another lie. All I could do was offer him a weak, apologetic smile. “Tim, it’s… it’s not what you think.”
But Kevin didn’t answer. I called again and again, but it went straight to voicemail every time.
The rest of the afternoon, I was a wreck, completely out of it. Tim was getting annoyed. He pointed out it was just the two of us on shift, and he couldn’t do all the work. I forced myself to snap out of it and went with him to the walk-in freezer to prep for the dinner rush. On the way, I brushed past the main power panel and my hand instinctively flicked a switch.
“Weird,” Tim muttered, picking up a loose plug from the floor. “Didn’t the manager just fix the security cameras before she left for the weekend? How is the power cord busted again?”
His words struck me like a bolt of lightning, unlocking a forgotten memory. In my past life, I had tried to pull the security footage to prove my innocence, to show I’d only exchanged a few harmless words with Kevin. But the cameras had been broken.
A seed of suspicion took root in my mind, but before I could process it, the landline on the counter began to ring, shrill and insistent.
“Hello, is this The Crispy Coop? You shameless little homewrecker, you think you can get away with seducing my husband? You just wait! I’m coming down there to rip your face off!”
Tim had barely lifted the receiver when a screeching female voice erupted from the earpiece. It was Kevin’s wife, Brenda.
“Ma’am, I think you have the wrong…”
Before Tim could finish, the line went dead with a loud click.
My heart hammered against my ribs. I didn’t remember Brenda calling to threaten me last time. The script had changed. Was it because I was reborn, or was it something else?
Then I remembered the frantic calls I’d made to Kevin’s phone. Brenda must have checked his call log, seen my number, and taken it as proof.
Damn it. I slapped my forehead in frustration.
Tim looked bewildered. “Annie, who was that?” He slammed the phone down. “I swear, the crazies are out in full force today. I’m so done with this job.”
“Tim,” I said, my voice low and serious, “if someone comes here looking for a fight, you have to stop her.”
The inevitable was coming. If I tried to run from it like last time, I’d only be feeding the flames of that madwoman’s rage.
Tim frowned, a flicker of doubt in his eyes. “Did you get into some kind of trouble? You’ve been acting strange all day.”
I shook my head. “How could I? I’m here all day. It’s about that delivery driver from earlier…”
Just as I was about to explain, a group of customers walked in. The conversation was cut short as we scrambled to take their orders.
The minutes ticked by. The dinner rush hit, and I moved on autopilot, taking orders, serving food, a practiced smile on my face. But beneath the surface, a primal fear was clawing its way up my throat.
Memories from my past life flooded back. The venomous online comments. The slimy feel of a stranger’s hands forcing their way under my clothes in that dark alley. The bone-deep despair as I stood alone on the edge of the bridge.
I’d had no family since my parents died. I worked hard, I was kind to everyone, I smiled even when I didn’t feel like it. All I wanted was a small, quiet place in this city where I could support myself.
But no one ever told me that kindness without a spine is just weakness. No one told me my good intentions would only feed someone else’s malice.
“Welcome to The Crispy Coop!”
The door swung open again. A woman in a red dress and heavy, garish makeup stormed in. Even with the caked-on foundation, I recognized her immediately.
It was Brenda.
She stalked toward the counter, her head held high, the sharp clicks of her heels echoing through the quiet restaurant. The few customers still dining shot her annoyed glances.
“You!” she shrieked, her bloodshot eyes locking onto me. “You’re the one! You feel proud of yourself, you little slut, chasing after another woman’s husband?”
I was holding a tray, about to deliver an order, and her shove sent me stumbling backward.
Tim stepped between us. “Ma’am, let’s all just calm down…”
I quickly set the tray down and looked her straight in the eye. “I think you have the wrong person.”
“The wrong person?” Brenda’s voice climbed to a hysterical pitch, spit flying from her lips. “You look so innocent, don’t you? But you’re nothing but trash! You thought my husband was hot, so you decided you’d just climb into his bed, is that it? Let me tell you something, you little bitch, I see trash like you, and I take it out!”
It was happening again. The exact same words she’d used before.
I took a deep breath and stepped forward. “Ma’am, if you don’t stop, I’m calling the police. You can have your husband come down here right now and we can sort this out. But you will not stand here and slander me.”
Brenda just laughed, a harsh, ugly sound. “You have the nerve to call the cops? You’re the one who was flirting with him, giving him free Cokes! I don’t see you giving free drinks to any other drivers, do I? Shameless whore!”
Understanding finally dawned on Tim’s face. He realized this was the wife of the driver from earlier. He jumped to my defense. “It was your husband who was begging for free stuff! He’s the cheapskate! This has nothing to do with Annie!”
Brenda sneered and pulled a stack of photos from her purse. She slammed them down on the counter with a loud smack.
“Everyone, look! Here’s the proof!” she yelled to the gawking customers.
The photos scattered across the floor. A few curious onlookers picked them up. Most were of a young woman’s back, dressed in shorts and a tank top.
But one photo was perfectly clear.
It was me. In the employee locker room, changing out of my uniform. Someone had taken it a few days ago.
Brenda pointed a trembling, crimson-nailed finger at the photo of me. “No wonder my husband’s been coming home so late,” she wailed, her voice thick with fake tears. “No wonder he’s been giving me less money. I knew something was wrong when I heard about that Coke, and then I find out you asked him to get bubble tea with you… You all know what ‘getting bubble tea’ really means! It’s just a code for doing that!”
A murmur went through the crowd.
“No way. I come here all the time. She doesn’t seem like that kind of girl.”
“But a wife wouldn’t just show up and make a scene for no reason, right?”
“What would she want with a delivery driver, though? That doesn’t make sense.”
Brenda shot a glare at the person who’d spoken. “What’s wrong with a delivery driver? He’s handsome, that’s what! This bitch will spread her legs for anyone! She needs to be exposed for the trash she is!”
With that, she advanced on me, her eyes wild. Suddenly, she reached into her handbag and pulled out a black plastic bag.
I knew what was inside. In my last life, I hadn’t seen it coming. She’d thrown it right in my face. The image of myself, standing there humiliated, covered in rotting food scraps and stinking like a garbage can, flashed before my eyes.
#FriedChickenHomewreckerGetsTrashed
Someone had filmed it, and the video went viral. To the world, I was the villain.
Not this time. I wasn’t going to be a victim again.
SMACK!
My hand cracked across Brenda’s face, the sound echoing through the stunned silence.
“Who is this lunatic?” I yelled. “Somebody call an ambulance, I think she’s having a breakdown!”
The slap caught her completely off guard. She stumbled back, losing her grip on the bag. It burst open, and a wave of rancid, foul-smelling kitchen slop splattered all over her red dress.
The stench was overwhelming. Her face contorted in a mask of shock and rage. A piercing scream tore from her throat as she lunged at me. “You hit me? I’m going to tear you apart!”
I joined the other onlookers, pinching my nose and backing away in disgust. That one slap had been for all the pain, all the humiliation, all the despair she had caused me in my past life.
“Y-you just wait! I’ll destroy you!” Brenda gagged, finally retreating. She shot me one last venomous glare and stormed out, leaving a trail of filth and fury in her wake.
The next day, she showed up at the restaurant bright and early. She didn’t yell, she didn’t break anything. She just ordered the cheapest item on the menu—a lemonade—sat at a table by the door, and started a live stream.
With tears streaming down her face, she told her phone camera all about me, the “homewrecker,” and how I had destroyed her perfect, happy family.
Our business plummeted.
A few days later, the manager pulled me aside outside the restaurant. She sighed, her face etched with worry. “Annie, you’re a good kid. I believe you,” she said. “But look at the situation. The store is going under.”
I said nothing, just watched her.
She hesitated, then finally spit it out. “Why don’t you… take a few days off? Go home and rest.”

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