Liam and I once had what looked like a solid marriage, but after a heartbreaking miscarriage, he began to drift away. The final blow came when I found him in my kitchen with my childhood best friend, Daria — half-dressed, laughing, and unapologetic. I didn’t argue. I simply asked them to leave, filed for divorce, and started over.
Two years later, while I was locking up my restaurant, I heard their voices again. Liam and Daria mocked me, assuming I was still barely getting by. But when I told them I owned the restaurant, had designed it from the ground up, and was fully booked for weeks, their laughter stopped. They asked for a table, but I refused.
The next day, they posted a bitter one-star review. Instead of hiding, I responded publicly, explaining that I decline service to rude, disrespectful customers. My loyal patrons flooded the page with glowing reviews, and even a local food blogger praised the way I handled it. Business only grew stronger.
As for Liam and Daria, they disappeared once more. Today, I’m engaged to Mark, my head chef — a man who is steady, kind, and everything my ex was not. When I told him the story, he just smiled and said they got what they deserved. I laughed and replied, “It’s not revenge. It’s dessert.”