Chapter 29: The '90s Horse Party
Feeling like he was finally back on track, Ethan felt considerably more relaxed.
Though his body was exhausted, his spirit was exceptionally energized—a classic case of "the flesh is weak, but the soul is willing."
After work, he pushed open the clinic door and stepped outside. After a moment's hesitation, he decided to head to the Williamsburg Diner. After all, he hadn't been there in weeks and genuinely missed Max; plus, she would absolutely roast him for "vanishing off the face of the earth" during his absence.
The cab pulled up outside the Williamsburg Diner in Williamsburg, Brooklyn.
Ethan got out and saw a crowd of bizarrely dressed '90s-costumed people gathered on the sidewalk, making him momentarily wonder if the driver had taken him to the wrong address.
The diner entrance was absolutely packed, neon lights flashing, and massive gold "90s" balloons hung prominently on the door.
The crowd drank and chatted to TLC's "Waterfalls" pumping through outdoor speakers, the air thick with the scent of cheap beer, drugstore perfume, and potent nostalgia.
In the center of the chaos, Caroline, wearing a pink baby tee and an orange-red mini skirt, looked like a "Clueless extra who wandered onto the wrong set," simultaneously greeting guests while counting cash.
Most absurdly, Chestnut the horse was standing casually by the curb, nonchalantly munching on a carrot.
Seeing Caroline confirmed it—Ethan was definitely in the right place.
"Hi, Caroline. What's all this?" Ethan walked over to greet her. "Why did you bring Chestnut out here too?"
Caroline, clutching a thick roll of twenties, turned to see him: "Oh my God, Ethan! Long time no see! This is the '90s Horse Party we're throwing tonight."
"I'm the brilliant mastermind behind this beautiful disaster. Wanna join? One hundred dollars cover charge."
"Absolutely."
Ethan readily handed over the cash, and Caroline pointed inside with a grin: "Max is inside. Make yourself at home, Doc~"
The interior of the diner was even more chaotic than outside.
Colored lights strobed rhythmically, and the walls were plastered with vintage posters of "Friends," the Backstreet Boys, and Spice Girls.
Max was clearing glasses, dressed in perfect '90s grunge-girl aesthetic: a yellow cargo skirt, red flannel shirt tied around her waist, denim vest layered over a crop top, and that signature black fedora—just the right amount of attitude.
"Oleg, what's wrong? Don't you appreciate our '90s Horse Party?"
Oleg complained loudly, "I thought you said '90s Whores Party. I wore this ridiculous spandex bodysuit for nothing and even applied actual deodorant."
Max laughed and shook her head: "Well, thank you for that misunderstanding. You've blessed us with one day of breathable air."
Just then, the owner Han Lee walked over excitedly. He was wearing a homemade white T-shirt with an awkward photo of himself striking a pose, accompanied by bold text.
"I researched what was popular in the '90s on Google and made this shirt myself—'TALK TO THE HAN!' Get it?" He looked absurdly proud. "Han't touch this!"
"It's actually pretty genius."
Han added in a conspiratorial whisper: "I'm hoping this shirt helps me... find a girlfriend tonight."
"You mean get laid?" Max cut in bluntly. "Good luck with that."
Just then, a familiar voice came from the entrance:
"Max."
She turned her head and froze for two solid seconds.
"Holy shit... Are you dead? Or am I so exhausted I'm hallucinating?"
Ethan walked forward with a warm smile, and without any verbal explanation, he pulled her directly into a tight embrace.
Max was genuinely stunned for half a second, nearly dropping the coffee pot in her hand.
"Whoa, getting physical right away—are you drunk? Or did you lose some kind of bet?"
She said it sarcastically, but she didn't push him away, only gently patting his back.
"Alright, three seconds are up. Any longer and I'm charging you by the minute."
Ethan released her gently, his tone sincere: "I genuinely missed you, Max."
She paused, then raised an eyebrow skeptically: "Listen to yourself, acting like I'm the one who ghosted you for three straight weeks."
Caroline walked in from outside and chimed in cheerfully: "Hey, you two! Some guy just asked me how much it would cost to get a hug from 'that hot busty waitress.'"
"Max is always radiant!"
Ethan complimented her, then asked: "Can I still order actual food?"
"Absolutely not! Kitchen's completely closed," Max said matter-of-factly. "Have some cupcakes. Tonight they're ten bucks each—special event pricing. Yours is free, obviously."
"The kitchen's closed? How did you convince Han to let you throw a party here?" Ethan asked while biting into a red velvet cupcake.
Max answered casually, "We told him that hosting a party would help him lose his virginity."
Caroline added helpfully, "And we also promised—it would help him pay off his business loan."
Max shrugged: "Unfortunately, so far neither has happened."
The group glanced over to see Han awkwardly dancing solo in a corner, completely alone.
"Look at how pathetic he is." Max shook her head and said to Caroline, "Why don't you throw him a bone and give Han some attention."
Caroline swatted her playfully with a grin.
Several well-dressed preppy guys walked in. Caroline immediately recognized one of them, her face instantly draining of color, and she turned and bolted into the kitchen.
Ethan was genuinely bewildered. Max immediately followed her in, dragging him along involuntarily.
The Kitchen.
Max lowered her voice urgently: "What are you doing hiding back here? Let's go out there and publicly humiliate that asshole so he learns the price of being scum!"
Caroline shook her head frantically: "No! I absolutely cannot face him."
"Why not? He's the one who dumped you first!"
"I can't face him... because I'm just a broke waitress now."
Ethan raised his hand politely: "Can someone please provide me with essential backstory here?"
Caroline sighed heavily: "That guy out there is William. The literal second I went bankrupt, he dumped me. Blocked my calls, my emails, everything. The last time we saw each other, I was still an Upper East Side socialite with a trust fund and a penthouse."
She lowered her head miserably: "Now I'm just a waitress hiding in a kitchen wearing a polyester uniform."
Ethan nodded, indicating he'd successfully received the critical context.
Max put her hands on her hips defiantly: "So you actually think you were more valuable as a person back then?"
"Please. You're earning your own money now, building your own life, creating an actual business."
"Back then, you were just a decorative doll sitting on daddy's trust fund. That jackass is the one who should feel ashamed."
Caroline looked up, her eyes slightly red: "But... I genuinely can't face him like this."
"What's there to be afraid of?" Max said, frustrated by her lack of spine. "He's literally just some moron who paid a hundred bucks to awkwardly dance with a horse. He's the pathetic one, not you."
Ethan, silently observing this drama unfold: "???"
Caroline asked softly: "Really?"
Max smiled and gestured toward Ethan: "Ask the doctor."
"Caroline, Max is absolutely right." Ethan collected his thoughts carefully and said, "That man genuinely doesn't deserve the person you've become."
"Why not?" Caroline asked instinctively.
"Because he never loved you; he loved your money," Ethan said, cutting straight to the core. "Think about the timeline. You declare bankruptcy, and he immediately ghosts you—blocks your calls, ignores your emails, completely vanishes."
"That behavior definitively proves he only cared about your trust fund, not your intelligence, beauty, personality, or potential. That kind of shallow opportunism is just..."
Ethan considered for a moment, then used terminology in Max's signature style: "Pathetic and douchey."
He leaned forward slightly: "Look at it from another perspective, Caroline. You're actually incredibly fortunate. You discovered his true character before you legally bound yourself to him."
"Imagine if you'd married him, had children with him, and entrusted your entire future to this person."
"Then one day, he meets another woman with a bigger inheritance, or simply embezzles your joint assets, abandons you and the kids, and disappears permanently."
"At that point, the emotional devastation you'd experience would be exponentially greater—a thousand, ten thousand times worse than what you're feeling right now."
Ethan paused for emphasis and concluded, "So honestly, this outcome is actually the best possible thing that could have happened to you."
As Caroline absorbed this, the panic and self-doubt in her eyes gradually evaporated.
She took a deep, steadying breath and nodded: "You're right. I really am... incredibly lucky."
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