She straightened abruptly, louder now, “This is harassment. I’m being targeted because I have places to be. Some people just take.”

Maya flinched. Mom’s shoulders curled inward.

The woman pointed at Mom: “Maybe you shouldn’t block the aisle with that… thing.”

My vision sharpened. “Don’t call her a thing.”

Without hesitation, she grabbed champagne and caviar, stuffing them into her bag. No payment, no pause.

“Some of us actually contribute to society,” she said loudly. “Some of you just take.”

Maya looked close to tears.

The woman turned and walked out.

I stepped forward, instinctively, but Mom’s hand tightened around my wrist—surprisingly firm.

“Don’t leave me,” she whispered.

So I stayed.

The applause faded into uneasy silence. Balloons drifted aimlessly.

Maya swallowed. “I’m sorry. I tried to—”

“You did,” I said. “Thank you.”

A short while later, Ben came down the aisle. Composed at first, then softened when he saw Mom. He knelt beside her chair.

“Mom? Hey… are you alright?”

Mom kept her gaze down. “Ben, please don’t make this a big deal.”

Ben’s expression hardened. “Who did this?”

Maya spoke quickly. “A woman cut the line, bumped the chair, said really hurtful things.”

“Did she pay?” Ben asked.

“No,” Maya said. “She took items and left.”