Some minutes later, the champagne arrived. My friend raised her glass. “To dignity and clever plans,” she toasted.
We sipped our champagne and watched as the waitress walked over to my husband’s table, bill in hand. The confusion on his face when he saw the bill was almost satisfying. He looked around, finally spotting me. His face turned pale.
I stood up and walked over to their table, my friend right behind me. “Hi there,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “Enjoying your evening?”
My husband stammered, “W-what are you doing here?”
“Oh, just having a lovely dinner with my friend,” I replied, looking at the young woman next to him. She looked uncomfortable, realizing the gravity of the situation.
My friend stepped in with the cold and firm voice. “You know, scenes are for those who’ve lost their self-respect, so we decided to handle this with class. Enjoy your meal, it’s on you,” she said, pointing to the bill.
I turned to leave, but I looked at my husband one last time. “Consider this the end of us. I deserve better than a man who doesn’t value his vows.”
After that, I walked out of the restaurant, my friend by my side, feeling a strange mix of heartbreak and empowerment. The evening air was cool against my flushed cheeks, and for the first time in a long time, I felt a sense of clarity. I didn’t need to make a scene to reclaim my dignity. I had already won by walking away.
