Suddenly, my appetite vanished. I didn’t feel like forcing myself anymore.
“Excuse me,” I called to the waiter, “Can you take this dish off the table? I’ll pay for it separately.”
But before the waiter could move, Simon pulled the plate toward himself. “Oh come on, I missed a few days at the hospital and now you’re acting like a drama queen? Maybe if you were watching where you were going, you wouldn’t have ended up getting hit by a car.”
I had seen him when he actually cared about me. So now, it was painfully obvious—he didn’t anymore.
Once, when I had a fever, he carried me on his back through the freezing night to the ER, crying the whole way. And now? He hit me with a car and didn’t even bother showing up.
He knew I hated bitter melon. For years, he never ordered or brought home anything remotely bitter. And now suddenly, like it was five years ago and we’d just met, he ordered bitter melon again.
I curled my lips into a tired smile. “I really hate bitter melon. I can’t even stand the smell.”
“Then don’t eat it,” he snapped. “Simple.”
The irritation in his tone was obvious. But I kept my smile polite. “I think… we should—”
Before I could finish the sentence, a woman walked up to our table.
“Simon, after all these years, you still remember I love bitter melon!”
I looked up calmly at the woman standing in front of me—flawless makeup, expensive clothes, her chin slightly raised as she looked down at me with thinly veiled disdain.
Without waiting for permission, she pushed Simon inward on the booth and slipped into the seat right across from me—shoulder to shoulder with him.
“Let me introduce myself,” she said, her voice as sweet as syrup. “I’m Simon’s girlfriend. Sean Michelle.”
I didn’t say a word. She leaned in closer to him, brushing her arm against his and gave me a sideways glance.
“Simon, aren’t you going to introduce her? She’s…”
Simon’s face stiffened. Clearly, Sean’s sudden appearance had caught him off guard. His eyes darted nervously to mine. I almost laughed.
“Meggy Klindsey. I work for Mr. Gudrick’s company,” I said smoothly. “The restaurant was full, so we’re just sharing a table.”
His head whipped toward me, panic flashing in his eyes for just a second—before he exhaled in relief.
“Yeah, that’s right,” he nodded quickly. “This is Meggy. One of my employees.”
Sean smiled like a cat with a mouse trapped under its paw.
“Ms. Klindsey must be extremely talented, then. I’ve never seen Simon eat at the same table with any woman besides me.”
She then placed her phone down next to her wine glass, nudging it slightly forward like it was accidental. But the message was loud and clear.
I caught a glimpse of her messenger profile photo. It matched Simon’s. A couple profile. Even their outfits today were matching—same color palette, coordinated down to the watch bands. Luxury. Designer. Deliberate.
Under the soft restaurant lighting, they looked picture-perfect. Like a magazine spread. I set my chopsticks down and stood up. Sean grabbed my wrist—her long manicured nails digging into my skin just out of his sight.
“Miss Klindsey, you’re leaving already? Did I say something wrong?” Her eyes shimmered with fake regret. “Let me apologize, okay?”
I wasn’t in the mood to play games with a girl pretending to be all sugar and innocence. I yanked my hand out of her grip.
Just as I was checking my wrist, where her nails had actually drawn blood, she suddenly swung her own hand and smacked a nearby little boy on the face. The child’s wail rang through the restaurant. He clutched his cheek and started sobbing uncontrollably.
Sean’s face turned pale, her eyes wide with fake horror. “Oh no, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to! Sweetheart, are you okay?”
Simon jumped in, apologizing profusely to the parents and immediately transferring money to cover damages. But then, the little boy suddenly pointed at me.
“It was her! She swung the lady’s hand and made her hit me! She should say sorry!”
Sean immediately gave me a look of deep hurt. “Miss Klindsey… I don’t know what I did to upset you. If you have a problem with me, just take it out on me. Please, don’t drag innocent people into this…”
Gasps and whispers rippled through the restaurant. I could feel the heat of their judgmental stares on my back.
Simon turned toward me and glared. “What are you standing there for?” he barked. “Apologize. Now! Stop making a scene.”
Like I was the one who embarrassed him. Like I was the one out of line.
