On their tenth wedding anniversary, Emma’s husband Mark took her to the most elegant restaurant in town, only to humiliate her with an inexpensive salad. He had no idea that she would make him pay for his brutality, along with the entire restaurant, the following night.
Warm, golden light filled the diner from the chandelier’s mellow radiance. The exquisite table arrangements and velvet seats created a refined environment.
My spouse, Mark, had assured me that the tenth anniversary of our marriage would be the most memorable. I had visioned a decadent evening complete with exquisite dishes and bubbly champagne.
I saw the knowing looks the waiters exchanged as we were seated. They appeared to know Mark well. The priciest restaurant in town, “La Belle Époque,” was where he had a reservation. This location was meant for significant events, and tonight was one of them.
Mark grinned indifferently and gave me the menu. He answered, “Order whatever you like, dear,” but there was another message in his eyes. I quickly perused the menu, which was chock-full of expensive but delicious items, the descriptions of which made my mouth swim.
“I think I’ll start with the lobster bisque and then move on to the filet mignon,” I exclaimed, feeling really excited.
Mark’s grin narrowed. Really, would you mind starting with a house salad? Be brief. You really intend to reduce your weight, right? The next time we visit, perhaps you’ll wear that gorgeous red dress I have my eye on.
His remarks resembled a smack. I felt a sharp blush of humiliation as I looked around. Did he think of this as a joke? However, I could tell he was serious by the steely glitter in his eyes.
It’s our anniversary, Mark, I gently objected. “I had the thought—”
He cut the waiter off with a wave, saying, “You thought wrong.” “I’ll have the Chateaubriand, medium rare, and my wife will have the house salad.” with a bottle of your finest red wine.
The waiter paused and gave me a pitying look. “Excellent, sir.”
With a sad heap of green salad in front of me, I suppressed my rage. Mark showed off how soft the meat was and how flavorful the sauce was as he relished every mouthful of his opulent dinner. For him, at least, the wine was flowing freely. I sipped my water, feeling as though the dinner would never end.
It was difficult to accept Mark’s domineering behavior throughout supper. While I nibbled at my salad, he was savoring every mouthful of his steak and making comments about it.
I made an effort to remain composed, but my rage was simmering under the surface. Without even glancing at me, he placed his dessert order—a rich chocolate soufflé—and declared, “She’s done.”
I was ashamed. And here I was, getting the cold shoulder on our wedding anniversary. I made the decision not to let this go while he was enjoying his dessert. I would make sure that this anniversary would be in his memory for all the wrong reasons. I grinned to myself and started formulating a strategy.
Early the following morning, I got up. Mark continued to snore next to me. With ideas flying through my head, I silently got out of bed. He departed for work, and I started working on my own. I planned numerous plans and asked pals for a few favors. It was time to swap roles.
I prepared all day long. I communicated with the management of “La Belle Époque” first. I gave my explanation, made reservations for the same table for the next night.
The manager agreed to assist, understanding my predicament. I then borrowed the gorgeous red dress that Mark had always praised by calling a friend who worked at a store.
I then got in touch with a buddy of mine who works as a lawyer and helped me open a personal bank account. She verified the specifics of our account and the emergency cash that Mark had concealed. Having the money made me feel confident enough to take the next step.
After getting everything ready, I left Mark a message saying, “Meet me at La Belle Époque at 7 PM.” Put on beautiful clothes. – Emma
All the things were ready when Mark got home. The message was waiting for him on the kitchen counter, and the house was silent. When he discovered it, he undoubtedly grinned, believing he was going to get away with a further night of luxury at my cost. He had no idea what I had in store for him.
As I got ready for the evening, I had a mixture of anxiety and exhilaration. I knew this was a risky move, but it was required. I wanted to prove to Mark that I was not going to be a doormat and to take back my dignity. For very different reasons, this was going to be an anniversary that we both would never forget.
Mark showed up to the restaurant with a smug expression. I was sat immediately, dressed in the red outfit he adored. He sat down, and I smiled at him, a mysterious, charming grin.
Emma, what’s this all about? His interest peaked, he asked.
“You’ll see,” I gestured to the waitress in response. “I’ve decided to place an order on our behalf.”
Though he narrowed his gaze, he remained silent. Our first course was lobster bisque, which the server brought out. Although Mark’s eyes became wide, he remained silent. The nicely cooked filet mignon was served next. I saw him becoming more and more confused as the finest wine in the house was poured.
“I don’t understand, Emma,” he remarked hesitantly. “We were only here yesterday. What is the event?
I murmured, my voice brimming with love, “Our anniversary.” “Well, it was a night to remember. I want to forget about last night. This is one that I want to remember, and I made sure you would too.
Mark went from being confused to suspicious. He surveyed the eatery, attempting to put everything together. I kept a tight eye on him, relishing his discomfort. When the main course arrived, I relished every morsel. But Mark was too preoccupied with trying to figure out what was going on to really touch his dinner.
I got up and made a toast, drawing interest from everyone in the restaurant. “Pardon me, folks. I must make a unique announcement.
Mark had a terrified expression. “What are you doing, Emma?”
My voice remained firm and confident as I replied, “I just wanted to share something with all of you.” “My spouse took me here for our anniversary last night, but he demanded that I get a cheap salad while he treated himself. I wanted to demonstrate to him what real excess feels like tonight.
The room was filled with murmuring. Mark got a beet red face. “Sit down, Emma,” he growled.
I disregarded him. That’s not all, though. Mark, you’ve always taken great satisfaction in being the one in charge and the giving one. I’ve attributed the cost of our dinner to the emergency money you’ve been withholding from me for years.
His mouth fell open. How come? How did you manage to—?
“Oh, Mark, you ought to be aware by now that my intelligence exceeds yours. Not just that, but also! I have some exciting news for all of you, ladies and gentlemen! My husband is giving you all of his money today and is covering all of your meals!
Mark’s face lost its color. “This isn’t funny, Emma.”
I stood up and replied, “No, it’s not.” However, it’s reasonable.
As I turned to go, I felt as though the last ten years were lifted off of me. The diners cheered as I left, and Mark just sat there looking shocked and embarrassed.
He was going to remember this anniversary forever. And I wouldn’t either.