Emma’s husband Mark took her to the town’s most upscale restaurant

on their tenth wedding anniversary, only to humiliate her with a

cheap salad. Unbeknownst to him, she planned her revenge for the following night.

At La Belle Époque, known for its exquisite ambiance, Mark promised

an unforgettable evening. As we were seated, he told me, “Order whatever

you like, dear,” but his eyes conveyed a different message. I chose lobster

bisque and filet mignon, but Mark insisted, “Would you mind starting with a

house salad? You need to lose weight.” His remarks were humiliating. He ordered

Chateaubriand for himself and a salad for me. The waiter gave me a pitying

look as I swallowed my rage, watching Mark enjoy his luxurious meal.

The next morning, I began planning my revenge. I contacted the restaurant to

reserve the same table and explained my situation. A friend lent me a stunning

red dress, and a lawyer helped me access our emergency funds. I left Mark

a note: “Meet me at La Belle Époque at 7 PM. Dress nicely. Emma.”

Mark arrived at the restaurant, smug. I greeted him with a mysterious smile.

“I’ve ordered for us,” I said. As the courses arrived, confusion flickered in

his eyes. I stood up to toast, drawing the restaurant’s attention. “Last night,

my husband made me order a cheap salad while he indulged. Tonight, I wanted

to show him what real indulgence feels like.” The crowd cheered as Mark’s face turned beet red.

I walked out, feeling liberated. Mark would never forget this anniversary, and neither would I.