On our tenth wedding anniversary, my husband Mark took me to “La Belle Époque,” the fanciest restaurant in town. I expected a night of indulgence, but instead, Mark humiliated me by ordering a cheap salad for me while he feasted on a lavish meal.
The next evening, I decided to turn the tables. I booked the same table and wore the stunning red dress Mark loved. When he arrived, I had already ordered lobster bisque and filet mignon for both of us. Mark looked confused but didn’t argue. The best wine flowed, and I watched his bewilderment grow.
As the main course was served, I stood up and clinked my glass, gaining the attention of the entire restaurant. “Last night, my husband made me feel small by ordering a cheap salad for our anniversary. Tonight, I wanted to show him what true indulgence feels like.”
The diners murmured as Mark’s face turned red. “Mark, you’ve always prided yourself on being generous. Tonight, I’ve paid for our meal using the emergency fund you’ve hidden from me for years.”
Mark’s jaw dropped. “Emma, this isn’t funny.”
“No, it’s not,” I said, standing tall. “But it’s fair. Also, everyone here gets their meal paid by my husband tonight.”
As I walked out, the diners applauded, and Mark sat there, stunned and humiliated. This was an anniversary neither of us would forget.
