He Left Me for a ‘Fancier Woman.’ I Waited Five Years to Do THIS (2 of 3)

There he was. Matthew. Same smug expression, same carefully styled hair. But this time, he wasn’t alone. Across the table sat a gorgeous woman, elegant and poised. She laughed at something he said, her hand brushing against his.

And suddenly, every ounce of humiliation he’d ever poured into me came rushing back.

I could’ve turned around. Pretended I hadn’t seen him. But instead, I felt something spark—a mischievous, dangerous little voice inside whispering: This is your moment.

So I walked in.

The hostess led me to a table just a few steps away from theirs. I sat down, smoothed my dress, and waited. When the waiter came by, I leaned in with my sweetest smile.

“Excuse me,” I said softly, “could you do me a small favor? Send a glass of champagne to that table over there. Tell them it’s from ‘an old friend of Matthew’s.’”

The waiter raised an eyebrow, but nodded.

I watched as the glass was delivered. Matthew looked confused, then annoyed. His date tilted her head curiously. She asked him who it was from. He stammered, fumbling for words. She pressed again.

That’s when I decided to twist the knife.

I stood up, walked over, and said warmly, “Matthew! So wonderful to see you. I just wanted to say hello—and to make sure your lovely date knows exactly what kind of man you are.”

The color drained from his face.