A customer spoke to me rudely that afternoon.
Before I could respond, he stepped between us—
voice calm, but sharp enough to cut through steel.
"She's not your servant. If you don't respect people here, you can leave."
The customer backed off instantly.
I stared at him.
"You didn't have to do that," I said softly.
"Yes," he replied, still tense.
"I did."
"Why?"
He swallowed.
"Because when someone talks to you like that…"
He paused.
"…I lose my calm."
His protectiveness felt like a confession.