My family borrowed money for my restaurant, and opening day is in two weeks

Dear Delyara, I have wanted my own restaurant since I was eighteen. My parents remortgaged part of their house to lend me money. My brother put in savings. My wife has worked extra shifts while I built this place. Everyone says they believe in me. That sentence has become unbearable. We open in fourteen days. Reservations are weak. The extraction system cost more than expected. One chef quit yesterday. Every night I calculate how quickly the money disappears if tables remain empty. My father visited this afternoon and stood in the dining room looking proud. He said, “Whatever happens, you did it.” I almost shouted at him because whatever happens is not neutral. If I fail, my parents will still owe money against the house they finished paying for years ago. My dream has become collateral in people’s lives. I used to fear embarrassment. Now I fear seeing my mother cut expenses because I wanted strangers to eat food with my name above the door. At three this morning, I stood inside the kitchen with every light on and imagined opening day. Then I imagined closing day. Right now, both feel equally real.