Then I took my half-full glass of wine, held it up to toast, and before anyone could blink — I poured it over his head.
The entire restaurant went silent.
Mark leaped up, sputtering, red wine dripping from his hair and shirt. Margaret gasped, eyes wide in disbelief.
“Emily! What on earth—”
“Oh, don’t worry,” I interrupted, voice steady. “It’s just wine, remember? No need to overreact.”
A few people nearby clapped quietly. Others hid their laughter behind their hands.
I placed the empty glass on the table, looked directly at my husband, and said, “You’ve humiliated me for the last time.”
Then I turned and walked out of that restaurant with my head high.
That night, I checked into a hotel. For the first time in years, I slept peacefully — no shouting, no mockery, no walking on eggshells.
