Before we move on to the main story, here’s a bit of context. About five years ago, I was engaged to this guy named Mark. We had been together for three years and I was in love with him: you know, the kind where you cannot imagine your life without your favorite person.

Luckily, Mark reciprocated my feelings and always assured me that he too felt the same way. We were deep into our wedding plans and I was over the moon to start a new chapter of my life with him when, out of the blue, he called it quits. Yes, you heard that right. He broke up with me.

His reasoning? I “wasn’t good enough for him.” Apparently, he’d landed a big promotion at work and suddenly felt like I didn’t fit his new image. Sounds crazy, right?

According to him, he needed someone more refined, someone posh—basically, someone who wasn’t me. He claimed I lacked ambition and drive and that he wanted a partner who could match his “high standards.” It hit me hard. I was a total wreck, wallowing in self-misery for months.

I knew I had to pull myself together, but I just didn’t know how. Everything reminded me of him, of us, and of the time we had spent together. It took me ages to move on from him, but the pain is still fresh in my mind, and so are the memories.

It hit me hard, and it took me ages to move on from him. Fast forward to the present: I’m 35, delightfully single, and absolutely thriving in my career. Last Saturday, I decided to treat myself to dinner at a fancy new restaurant in town.

Guess who I saw through the window as I approached the entrance? You guessed it: Mark! He looked just as smug as ever, laughing and enjoying dinner with some stunning woman.

I knew I couldn’t let this opportunity slip by; I had to warn her in a way he’d never see coming. So, I stepped into the restaurant, feeling a surge of anger, and then, suddenly, inspiration struck.

I called over the waiter and, with a sweet smile, asked if he could do me a favor. “Hello. I need your help. Do you see the man at that table? He’s my ex-fiancé,” I explained, keeping my tone light. “It would mean the world to me if you could help me pull off a little prank.”

The waiter’s eyes twinkled with interest. “What did you have in mind?” he asked, leaning in slightly.

“First, let’s send over a bottle of your most expensive champagne with a note,” I said, already feeling the thrill of my plan coming together.

He nodded, taking mental notes. “What’s the note supposed to say?”

“To Mark, who always settles for second best,” I replied, grinning. The waiter chuckled and walked away to arrange the first part of my revenge.

From my table, I watched as the waiter presented the bottle and note to Mark. His face turned a brilliant shade of red, and the woman looked completely puzzled. I could see Mark trying to explain something, but she didn’t seem too convinced.

Next, I decided to hit a bit closer to home. I called the waiter over again. “Now, I’d like to send them an appetizer,” I said. “Something he’s highly allergic to. And another note.”

The waiter raised an eyebrow but didn’t question me. “What should this note say?”

“Just a reminder of what you can’t have,” I replied, feeling a bit wicked. He nodded and went off to carry out my instructions.

I watched with glee as the appetizer was delivered. The woman’s face shifted from confusion to irritation, and Mark looked like he was ready to explode. He was obviously trying hard to maintain his composure, but it was a losing battle.

For the final act, I needed some outside help. I quickly called my friend Sarah, who lived nearby. “Hey, Sarah, I need a huge favor. Can you come to the new restaurant downtown? I need you to play a little part in my revenge plot.”

Sarah arrived within 20 minutes, just as Mark was looking like he might crack under the pressure. She walked up to their table, pretending to recognize Mark.

“Oh my God, Mark!” she exclaimed, loud enough for the whole restaurant to hear. “I haven’t seen you since you were at that dating seminar last month. How’s your fiancée? Did she finally agree to the open relationship?”

The entire restaurant seemed to go silent. Mark’s date looked horrified. “What is she talking about, Mark?” she demanded.

Mark stammered, trying to explain, but the damage was done. “Clara, it’s not what it sounds like,” he blurted out, his face turning an even deeper shade of crimson. “She’s just a friend, making a joke.”

Clara wasn’t buying it. She narrowed her eyes, her face a mix of anger and disbelief. “A joke? About a fiancée and an open relationship? Really, Mark?” She grabbed her purse and stood up. “I can’t believe I wasted my time on you.”

She stormed out, leaving Mark standing there, red-faced and furious. I watched from my table, savoring every moment of his downfall. As a cherry on top, I decided to go for one final blow.

I walked over to Mark’s table, smiling sweetly. “Hi Mark,” I said, enjoying the look of shock on his face. “Guess I wasn’t so ‘not good enough’ after all, huh?” His mouth opened and closed like a fish, but no words came out.

Feeling triumphant, I turned and left the restaurant. My heart was pounding, but it felt amazing. Outside, I took a deep breath of the cool night air, feeling lighter than I had in years.

A few days later, I heard from a mutual friend that Clara had broken up with Mark that night. Apparently, he’s been trying to figure out how it all went so wrong ever since. He’s even been asking around, trying to piece together what happened. Meanwhile, I’ve moved on, happier than ever.