What Goes Around Comes Around

“Me? And that troll? He’s married with two kids. Spare me, Lord” Sophia rolled her eyes.

“He’s hideous, too” Anna added with a completely straight face. “His mustache is probably thicker than his pubic hair.”Anna added with a straight face and Sophia burst out laughing. “Oh God, stop. I’m going to remember that expression every time I see his face.”They laughed for a while, then fell into a comfortable silence, watching the snow in peace.

“Have you heard about the new restaurant in your neighborhood?” Anna finally asked. “I heard they’re hiring for the night shift.”

“What about the pay? Is it worth it?”

“$20 an hour. Since the place is new, you wouldn't get that much work, so you'd be free to study, too” Anna replied happily.

Sophia seemed satisfied, her shoulders finally dropping an inch. “Send me the details. I’m in.”

- Later that night, Sophia's apartment, Toronto, Canada -

- Sophia's POV -

I’m cooked. Literally.

I agreed to edit that pathetic script, but I’ve been stuck for two hours just fixing the grammar mistakes. Ricky, when I catch you, Ricky. I need to hurry up before my shift starts; I called them earlier and they told me to come in tonight. First impressions are everything, so I really need to move. I thought about using AI to fix the remaining pages, but I can’t upload files to the free versions of the popular models. Can I just cry? Why is everything so expensive? I’m saving every penny I have just to survive this life.

“Maybe I can find a free model if I search harder” I muttered then rolled up my sleeves, put on my glasses, and stared intensely at the screen. I scrolled frantically through the results, page after page, until I saw it.

Nendo? Never heard of it, but who cares? Popularity isn't important right now.

[Fix the spelling and grammar mistakes in this scenario. Do not change the events.] I typed, then attached the file.

The reply was a bit delayed, but it popped up after a few minutes:

“Your file is ready to be downloaded. The file was too large, so I split it into a ZIP folder.”

Ehhh? You didn’t have to split it, dumbass. Anyway, I don’t have time to argue with an AI model. I downloaded the ZIP and clicked it. My screen froze. I wasn't sure if the file was just too big to load or if my laptop had finally decided to give up. Then, a window titled NENDO popped up out of nowhere.

BINGO. You are now infected.

Dear Client, this is Ransomware. Either pay me $5,000 or you will lose access to your files forever. Don't try to play tricks or install an antivirus. I am invincible.

It took a second for the reality to sink in. I’ve been hacked. I’m trying so hard to convince myself this is a hallucination, but 5k?! I’m struggling to pay $800 a month! I found a chat box to reply to the virus—which is ridiculous—but I figured I should try to make a deal before I lose my mind.

Sophia: Hello, sir. Umm... I don’t have the exact amount you want, so... do you mind if you just give me access to the script? Please.

Why am I so pathetic? Begging a virus? At my age?

Nendo: Who do you think I am? Your friend? I’m a RANSOMWARE. Do you even know what that means?

Sophia: A... virus?

I replied as politely as possible because I was honestly scared of making him angry. Wait, "Him"? Am I really personifying a piece of code?

Nendo: A type of malware which prevents you from accessing your device and the data stored on it, usually by encrypting your files. Source: NCSC Government.

Sophia: Still a virus.

Nendo: Are you dumb? These are TWO DIFFERENT THINGS.

Sophia: Look, I get it, you’re annoyed. But I’m going to be late, so please help me out. Make it 500.

Nendo: Thousand?

Sophia: Dollars. If I had thousands, I wouldn’t be here negotiating with a virus.

Nendo: No.

Sophia: 800?

The moment I sent that, I got disconnected. The virus literally dumped me. Screaming internally, I changed my clothes and rushed out. As if my life couldn't get any worse, now I’m stuck with a digital extortionist.

My mom has been a single parent for as long as I can remember. I never saw my dad or even knew who he was. I’m her only daughter, but I do have someone I consider a brother— we’re not going to talk about that now. Maybe life was tough on my mom too; she workes as a bartender in a nightclub just to make ends meet. But sometimes I wonder if she ever wanted me. I’ve always felt like a burden. I’ve never felt truly accepted.

I hopped on my motorcycle and arrived at the restaurant. The place looked cool—authentic and unique.

“You must be Sophia Warner, right?” A lovely woman welcomed me the moment I entered. I’m not exactly a social butterfly, so my smile felt a bit awkward. I hoped she didn't notice.

“I’m Rosalie, the owner of this restaurant.” She extended her hand, and I shook it with a warm smile.

“I’m so sorry I’m late, I just—”

“Don’t say a word. It’s your first day! Come on, let me introduce you to the place.” She pulled me inside before I could even finish my apology.

She showed me the ropes and taught me how to make a few drinks. I was actually quite satisfied—the workload was light and we rarely saw a customer. Naturally, a customer walked in the second my manager stepped out.

“Hello, sir. How can I help you?”

He looked suspicious—wearing a black hoodie with the hood pulled low to cover his face. Please don’t be a thief, but he actually smelled incredible.

“One Spanish latte. One blueberry cheesecake” he said.

I punched the order into the screen, but before I could give him the total, he dropped thirty dollars on the counter. He went to sit at the farthest table, acting as if I was the virus. A virus? Please, not again.

Thankfully, his order wasn't complicated. I still couldn't see his face. Was he ugly? Why did I even care?

“Here’s your order. Enjoy” I said, forcing a smile. I went back to the counter, but I couldn't help glancing at him every now and then. I was bored enough that I started trying to guess what he looked like. Based on his build, he looked fit and very tall—maybe 189 cm?

“Got a problem with me?”

I jumped. I thought he was talking to someone on his phone because he’d been scrolling for a while.

“You, there.” He pointed a finger at me, and I felt my heart race.

“M... me? You must be imagining things, sir.” I needed to be careful; I didn’t want to get fired on day one.

“Imagining things? Are you insulting me?”

Normally, I wouldn't hesitate to snap back at a guy, but something about this man made me freeze.

“No, sir. I was just... asking” I said, emphasizing the word. A sarcastic laugh came from under the hood.

“If you can prove you weren’t staring the whole time, I’ll tip you an extra fifty dollars.” His tone was challenging. He turned his head toward me, and the hood shifted just enough to reveal a glimpse of a smug, handsome face.

“If you’re willing to tip that much, I’ll prove whatever you want, even if it’s a lie” I replied confidently.

He stood up and walked toward the counter. “Anything?”

Please don't be a creep, I thought, bracing myself. “What if I offered you $100,000?”

I immediately assumed the worst. I clenched my fist, ready to punch him, but he caught my hand midway. “Hey, hey. You don’t even know the deal yet.”

“A deal? From a brat like you? I hate guys who take advantage of—”

“A contract. Sign a marriage contract with me. That’s it. I won’t ask you for anything else.”

“A what?” I stared at him, wondering if my ears were clogged.

“It’s a simple deal. I need a fake wife, and you clearly need the money.”

“I’m not a gold digger. And what makes you think I need money?” I snapped, my fist still held in his grip.

“Because why else would you be working here?” He sighed, then slid a piece of paper with a phone number across the counter. “Think about it. The offer is valid for two days.”

He released my hand and vanished before I could respond. It felt like a fever dream. Just then, Rosalie walked back out.

“You met him?” she laughed.

“Is he... someone famous?” I asked, still dazed.

“He’s been here every day since I opened” she said, leaning on the counter with a grin. “He always orders the same thing and stays on his phone. But yesterday, I heard him arguing with his dad on a call. Sounds like he’s dealing with some drama at home.”

“Do you know what he just said to me? He asked me to sign a marriage contract!”

Rosalie froze. Honestly, that was the only natural reaction anyone could have after hearing a story like that. As I stood there staring at the door where he’d vanished, I realized one thing for certain: my life wasn't just getting complicated—it was getting much, much worse

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