…So I took their food and walked back to the table with a smile that was terrifyingly sweet. The chef had prepared a “special” appetizer just for them. It looked like delicious, crispy calamari, but he had marinated it in his private stash of Carolina Reaper extract—stuff so hot he usually wears gloves just to handle the bottle.
“Compliments of the chef,” I chirped, placing the plate down. “He feels terrible about the soup incident and wanted to apologize.”
My ex, arrogant as ever, smirked at his new girl. “See? She still knows her place.” He stabbed a huge piece with his fork, and she did the same. They popped the food into their mouths simultaneously.
The silence lasted exactly three seconds.
Then, pure chaos. My ex’s face turned a shade of violent purple. The girl’s eyes started streaming tears, turning her mascara into black streaks down her face. She gasped for air, clawing at her throat. My ex tried to shout for water, but his voice cracked into a high-pitched, humiliated squeak.
“Water!” he finally choked out, banging on the table.
I held the pitcher, looked him dead in the eye, and tipped it… pouring it straight onto the floor.
“Oops,” I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “My hands are just so shaky from crying earlier. So clumsy of me!”
The entire restaurant, including the regulars who had watched them bully me, erupted in laughter. The girl bolted for the bathroom to vomit, and my ex ran out the front door, knocking over a chair in his blind panic.
The chef high-fived me as I walked back to the kitchen. I didn’t just get my revenge; I got a standing ovation. And the best part? He left his wallet on the table. Looks like he’s paying for everyone’s round of drinks tonight.
Bye, loser. 👋
