“Everything okay?” I asked as we sat down.
Fiona glanced up, startled. “Oh, yeah. Just checking something quick.”
I nodded, trying to hide my disappointment. This was supposed to be our special night, but she seemed a million miles away.
The waiter appeared with menus. “Can I interest you in our anniversary special? A bottle of champagne to start?”
“That sounds perfect,” I said, smiling at Fiona. “What do you think, honey?”
She was staring at her phone again. “Hm? Oh, sure. Whatever you want.”
I sighed and ordered the champagne. As the waiter walked away, I reached across the table and gently touched Fiona’s hand.
“Hey, can we maybe put the phones away? It’s our anniversary.”
Fiona looked guilty. “You’re right, I’m sorry. It’s just this new video series I found —”
I tried to keep the irritation out of my voice. “Another prank channel?”
“They’re hilarious, Aidan! You should see some of these —”
I tuned out as she launched into a description of the latest viral prank. My mind wandered back to the past few weeks, and I felt my stomach tighten.
It had started innocently enough, Fiona showing me funny videos on her phone, and both of us laughing. But then she’d started trying to recreate them at home.
There was the time she jumped out from behind the shower curtain, nearly giving me a heart attack. The fake spider in Nora’s lunchbox that made our daughter cry. The “broken” glass prank that left Callum afraid to touch anything in the kitchen for days.
Each time, Fiona would laugh it off. “It’s just a joke!” she’d say. “Don’t be so serious!”
But I’d seen the fear in our kids’ eyes, felt the constant tension in my own shoulders. It wasn’t funny anymore. It was exhausting.
I snapped back to the present as the waiter returned with our champagne. Fiona was still talking, gesturing animatedly about some YouTuber’s latest stunt.
Fiona stood up abruptly. “I need to use the restroom. Be right back.”
I watched her walk away, a sense of unease growing in my stomach. Something felt off.
Suddenly, a commotion erupted behind me. I turned to see Fiona stumbling between tables, clutching her throat.
“I can’t breathe!” she gasped, falling to her knees. “Help me!”
The restaurant erupted in chaos. People rushed to her side, calling for help. I sat frozen, unable to process what was happening.
Then Fiona started laughing. “Just kidding!” she announced, getting to her feet. “It was a prank!”
The silence that followed was deafening. I felt the eyes of every patron boring into me. Fiona grinned, oblivious to the horror on everyone’s faces.
“Ma’am, that was extremely inappropriate,” the manager said, approaching our table. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
I stood up, grabbing my coat. “I’m leaving,” I said, my voice tight with anger. “Without my wife. You can get an Uber home on your own,” I informed her.
Fiona’s smile faltered. “Aw, come on. It was just a joke!”
I didn’t even respond. I couldn’t even look at her. I rushed out to the car and made off before she had time to respond — besides, she needed to settle the bill anyway.
As soon as I got home, I headed for the kids’ rooms. “Pack a bag,” I told Nora and Callum. “We’re going to Uncle Declan’s for a bit.”
An hour later, I was knocking on my brother’s door, two sleepy kids in tow. Declan took one look at my face and ushered us inside without a word.
“Guest room’s all yours,” he said, helping me with the bags. “Want to talk about it?”
I shook my head. “Not tonight. Thanks, bro.”
My phone buzzed incessantly with messages from Fiona. I ignored them all and tried to sleep.
The next morning, I woke to find 37 missed calls and twice as many texts. I scrolled through them, my anger reigniting.
“You’re overreacting.”
“It was just a joke!”
“How could you embarrass me like that?”
“You owe me an apology.”
I tossed the phone aside, disgusted. How could she not see how wrong she was?
As if on cue, my phone rang again. This time, it was Greta, Fiona’s mom. I hesitated before answering.
“Aidan! What’s this I hear about you abandoning my daughter at a restaurant?” Greta’s voice was shrill with indignation.
I took a deep breath. “Hi, Greta. It’s not what you think.”
“Oh? Then explain it to me, young man. Because from where I’m standing, you left your wife alone on your anniversary. That’s pretty low.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose, feeling a headache coming on. “Fiona pulled a prank, Greta. A bad one. She pretended to choke in the middle of a crowded restaurant.”
There was a pause on the other end of the line. “She did what?”
I recounted the events of the previous night, including Fiona’s recent obsession with pranks and how it was affecting our family.
When I finished, Greta was quiet for a long moment. Then she sighed heavily. “Oh, Aidan. I had no idea it had gotten this bad.”
“Yeah, well. Now you know.”
“I… I don’t know what to say. If things are really this bad, I… I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted a divorce.”
Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. Divorce? Is that where we were headed?
“I don’t know, Greta,” I said honestly. “I just need some time to think.”
After we hung up, I sat on the edge of the bed, my head in my hands. Was this really the end of our marriage?
I spent the day in a daze, mechanically going through the motions of caring for the kids. By evening, I’d made a decision.
I called Fiona. “Meet me at the restaurant tomorrow at 7 p.m. We need to talk.
She agreed immediately, sounding relieved. I hung up before she could say more.
The next night, I arrived at the restaurant early. My palms were sweaty as I clutched the envelope containing the divorce papers I’d had drawn up that afternoon.
Fiona walked in, looking smaller and more vulnerable than I’d ever seen her. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her hair disheveled.
“Hi,” she said softly, as she took a seat alongside me.
“Hi,” I replied, my throat tight.
We sat in awkward silence for a moment. Then Fiona burst out, “Aidan, I’m so sorry. I never meant to hurt you or the kids. I just got carried away with the pranks and —”
I held up a hand to stop her. Without a word, I slid the envelope across the table.
Fiona’s hands shook as she opened it. Her eyes widened as she realized what she was looking at.
“No,” she whispered, tears spilling down her cheeks. “Please, Aidan, no. We can work this out. I’ll stop the pranks, I promise. Please don’t leave me.”
I let her cry for a moment, my own eyes stinging. Then I took a deep breath.
“It’s a prank,” I said quietly.
Fiona’s head snapped up. “What?”
“The divorce papers. They’re not real. It’s a prank.”
Her mouth opened and closed, no sound coming out. I leaned forward, my voice intense.
“This is what it feels like, Fiona. This is how your pranks make us feel. Scared, hurt, betrayed. Is this what you want for our family?”
Fiona’s face crumpled. “No,” she sobbed. “God, no. I’m so sorry, Aidan. I never realized…”
I reached across the table and took her hand. “I love you, Fiona. But this has to stop. No more pranks. Ever. Can you promise me that?”
She nodded vigorously, squeezing my hand. “I promise. No more pranks. I’ll delete all those stupid videos. I’ll do whatever it takes.”
I exhaled slowly, feeling a weight lift from my shoulders. “Okay,” I said. “Then let’s go home.”
As we stood to leave, Fiona hesitated. “Aidan? Thank you for not giving up on us.”
I pulled her into a hug, breathing in the familiar scent of her hair. “We’re in this together,” I murmured. “For better or worse, remember?”
She laughed softly, a sound I realized I’d missed. “I remember. Let’s aim for ‘better’ from now on, okay?”
I nodded, feeling cautiously optimistic for the first time in weeks. As we walked out of the restaurant hand in hand, I knew we had a long way to go. But at least now, we were on the same page.
And there wasn’t a prank in sight.
What would you have done?
A Wealthy Man Pretended to Be a Waiter and Invited a Woman on a Date to the Restaurant He Owns
When wealthy restaurateur Nate meets down-to-earth Beth at a gas station, her charm catches him off guard. Intrigued but wary from past heartbreak, Nate invites her on a date with a twist. Will his charade of being a waiter at a restaurant he owns reveal her true intentions?
Neon paint splatters covered my clothes, and I didn’t realize how ridiculous I looked until I pulled up to the gas station. I stepped inside, feeling sore and a little dazed from an intense paintball match, and that’s when I saw her.
The cashier.
A cashier at a gas station | Source: Midjourney
Her blonde hair was tied up in a messy bun, a few wisps escaping around her face. When she noticed me and smiled, I swear my heart somersaulted.
“If the Terminator walked in right now,” she teased, “he definitely wouldn’t ask for your clothes.”
I blinked. For a second, I didn’t know whether to laugh or melt into the floor.
“I… I was just playing paintball,” I replied sheepishly. My cheeks flamed up in what I could only hope wasn’t an obvious blush.
A shy man | Source: Midjourney
She grinned wider, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “Really? That was my first guess.” She looked me up and down, making a show of inspecting the damage the paint had done to my clothes. “Did you win, or…?”
“Uh, yeah. My team won.” I shrugged, trying to appear casual, though it was hard to feel composed under her playful gaze.
“Well, congrats, soldier. Need a victory snack?” She winked at me and nodded at the candy shelf, her tone still dripping with mock seriousness.
A woman working as a gas station cashier | Source: Midjourney
I couldn’t help but laugh. This woman — Beth, her name tag read — was a breath of fresh air. I don’t know what came over me, but the next thing I knew, I blurted out, “Would you like to grab dinner with me sometime?”
She blinked, the smile fading slightly as surprise flickered in her eyes. For a moment, I feared I’d misread the whole thing. But then she tilted her head and her grin returned to full force.
“Alright. Sure… just no paintball, okay?”
A grinning gas station cashier | Source: Midjourney
We exchanged numbers, and I walked out of that gas station with a date to look forward to. I was excited, but it didn’t take long for the anxiety to set in.
I’ve been burned too many times before. Women were more interested in the idea of Nate, the wealthy restaurateur than in Nate, the man who liked obscure indie bands and reading Manga. So, I devised a little test. Maybe it was crazy, but I had to know.
I invited Beth to my upscale Italian restaurant downtown. It was the crown jewel of my empire, and would now also be the stage on which I’d expose Beth’s true intentions.
The interior of an upmarket restaurant | Source: Midjourney
I watched from across the room as Beth entered in a simple red dress that made her look effortlessly beautiful. The staff already knew the plan, so I hurried over to greet her, my heart pounding.
“Hey,” I said, guiding her to a corner table. “I’m so glad you came. I saved us the best table.”
Beth smiled, glancing around. “Oh? You come here so often you know which table is the best?”
A woman speaking to her male companion | Source: Midjourney
I chuckled as I sat across from her, fidgeting with the napkin. “Yeah, I work here. Just finished my shift, actually.”
Her eyes flickered with surprise, but her trademark grin quickly replaced it. “Really? I’ve always wanted to be a waitress. Maybe I’ll jump in for a shift after dinner.”
I laughed nervously, watching her reaction closely. “I don’t recommend it. The pay’s awful, and the hours? Brutal.”
As if on cue, one of my waiters approached with menus, winking subtly at me.
A man seated at a table with his date | Source: Midjourney
“Good to see you, Nate. Still recovering from that lunch rush?” he asked, playing his part perfectly.
“Yeah, barely survived,” I said with a tight smile.
Dinner arrived, and soon we were talking and laughing like old friends. She told me about her love of books, and how she used to want to write, but ended up working at the gas station to help her mom out.
She was funny and quick-witted. Her humor caught me off guard at every turn and I was thoroughly charmed by her.
A woman in a restaurant | Source: Midjourney
Being with her felt… effortless.
As dessert approached, my restaurant manager, Tom, came over, looking furious. Of course, it was all part of the act, but Beth didn’t know that.
“Nate!” Tom snapped, glaring at me. “You skipped out on the last 15 minutes of your shift. What the hell? Get back to the kitchen and wash the dishes, or you’re fired!“
Beth’s eyes went wide, and I could see the shock register.
A wide-eyed woman | Source: Midjourney
Beth stood, her face softening with concern. “Hey, it’s okay. If you need to go, go. We can always—”
“I’m really sorry,” I cut in, feeling the weight of the lie. “I’ll have to finish up back there. I’ll, uh, text you later?”
“Sure,” she replied with a wink.
And with that, I excused myself, heading toward the kitchen, my mind racing. I needed time to think and to plan my next move, but I had barely been back there for two minutes when the kitchen door creaked open.
A staff entrance in a restaurant kitchen | Source: Pexels
Beth slipped in, her face glowing with a mixture of amusement and determination.
“You haven’t started yet?” she teased, rolling up her sleeves. “Come on. Let’s wash these dishes together and then go for a walk on the pier.”
I stared at her, completely floored. How did I get so lucky? A flood of emotions swept over me. It was clear now that Beth really did like me, enough to wash a mountain of dirty dishes so we could continue our date at the pier… how was I going to tell her this was all a test?
A thoughtful man | Source: Midjourney
The dishes clinked together as we scrubbed side by side, our elbows occasionally bumping. Guilt stabbed at me each time Beth smiled at me like this was the most natural thing in the world — standing in the back of a high-end restaurant, washing dishes after a first date.
I couldn’t stop stealing glances at her, wondering how someone like her could be so unaffected by everything.
After we finished, Beth wiped her hands on her dress, completely unfazed by the water spots. She looked at me with a playful gleam in her eyes.
A smiling woman in a restaurant kitchen | Source: Midjourney
“Well, I can’t say I expected to end up elbow-deep in suds tonight, but it wasn’t half bad. So, what now? Are we walking to the pier, or are you making me clean the kitchen, too?”
I chuckled, but the sound caught in my throat. I had to come clean with her. It was now or never.
“Beth, I have to tell you something,” I said, my voice a little too serious for the moment.
She tilted her head, her smile fading just a bit. “Okay…?”
A woman smiling uncertainly | Source: Midjourney
I took a breath, the truth ready to burst out of me. “I’m not a waiter. Well, I used to be, but not anymore. I’m actually the owner of this place. I own this restaurant and two others in the city.”
Beth blinked, her brows knitting together in confusion. “Wait… what?”
“The whole thing tonight was a setup,” I admitted, guilt creeping into my voice. “I wanted to see if you liked me for who I am, not for the money or the restaurant. I know it’s crazy, but I’ve been burned before, and didn’t want to risk it again.”
A guilty man | Source: Midjourney
For a moment, Beth just stood there, her expression unreadable. My heart pounded in my chest as the silence stretched on. Then, she crossed her arms and gave me a long, searching look.
“So, let me get this straight,” she finally said, her tone carefully neutral. “You lied to me all night because you thought I might be… what? A gold digger?”
I winced. “It wasn’t like that. I just… I’ve had bad experiences. But I like you so much… I just didn’t want to mess this up.”
Her gaze softened a little, but there was still a hurt flicker in her eyes.
A woman in a kitchen with a hurt expression | Source: Midjourney
“So, you were testing me.”
“I know it sounds terrible, and it is,” I said quickly, stepping closer. “But I had to be sure you liked me for me.”
Beth stood quietly for a moment, processing. Then she shook her head with a small, incredulous laugh.
“So… did I pass your test?”
I nodded earnestly, feeling the weight of the night lift off my shoulders. “With flying colors.”
A serious man | Source: Midjourney
She smiled back, and her playfulness quickly returned. “Oh, and for the record — your restaurant’s food isn’t that great. Next time, we’re going somewhere else, somewhere we won’t end up washing dishes, okay?”
I laughed, the sound echoing through the empty kitchen. “You got it.”
Here’s another story: At a family outing, my mother-in-law switched my mild chicken for an extra-spicy option, leaving me humiliated in a crowded restaurant. As my mouth burned and Linda smirked, I decided to plan a dinner that would teach her a lesson she’d never forget!
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
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