He agreed immediately.
That night, I wore a simple black dress, tasteful makeup, and carried myself with calm restraint. When Daniel and I arrived, the staff guided us to our table—right beside Mark’s, exactly as I’d arranged.
And there he was. Mark, suited up, sitting across from a young woman at least eight years my junior. She gazed at him with adoration, her hand brushing his as they toasted. Their words of affection drifted over the partition.
I sat down smoothly, feigning ease. Daniel filled my glass, smiling politely:
“It’s been years since we shared a meal. You haven’t changed—you’re still strong, still radiant.”
At that moment, Mark finally looked up. His eyes froze, the glass shaking in his hand, lips parted but speechless. His face drained of color. The woman across from him, confused, followed his stare—and met my calm smile.
Daniel, still casual, twirled his wineglass and spoke:
“Good to see you again, Mark. Never thought it’d be in such… circumstances.”
The words cut sharper than any shout.
Mark stammered, “Daniel… you… what are you doing here?”
I answered for him:
“I invited him. Since you planned a special dinner, I thought I deserved one too.”
The young woman’s face paled, her eyes darting between us. The silence around that table grew suffocating.
Mark lowered his head, clutching his napkin. I, on the other hand, cut into my steak leisurely, as though it were just another evening out.
Daniel leaned toward me and asked gently:
“Do you want to say anything to him?”
I studied Mark for a long moment, then shook my head.
“No need. His choices already said it all—the place, the woman, and the fact that I chose to sit right here.”
I set down my utensils, dabbed my lips, and rose to leave.
“Daniel, thank you for coming. I think dinner is over for tonight.”
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