Dinner went as awkwardly as expected.
Margaret dominated the conversation, bragging about her neighbor’s son who had just been promoted. When I tried to share about my own work — how I had closed a big deal that day — Mark interrupted.
“She’s been lucky lately,” he said, chuckling. “But let’s see if she can keep it up.”
Lucky. That’s how he described years of my hard work.
I tried to brush it off, focusing on my meal. But then the waiter came by with a bottle of red wine. Margaret smiled. “Oh, Mark, let’s celebrate your promotion! Pour us all a glass.”
Mark lifted the bottle and began pouring. Then, just as the waiter turned away, he “accidentally” tilted it too far — and a cascade of red splashed all over my dress.

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