Chapter 2: Sharks at the Table

But after hearing that, Rachel’s face only got darker.

Her eyes shimmered, but not with excitement. She stared at the jar as if it were a lump of coal on Christmas morning, her lips twitching with the effort to keep her real feelings in.

Jessica, the hot-tempered one, slammed her palm on the table, rattling glasses and clattering silverware. Her voice cut through the restaurant like a fire alarm: “You call this cheap, tacky thing romantic?”

What hurt more was Rachel’s silence—she didn’t defend me, didn’t even look my way. I felt myself shrinking in my seat.

Melissa chimed in with a sing-song mockery: “So what if you folded them yourself? You’re a grown man, and you call this a gift?” The rest of the table giggled, clearly loving every second.

Brittany, queen of side-eyes, leaned back with her arms crossed and smirked. “Don’t you make good money? Can’t you get Rachel a better present? Do you even care about my girl at all?”

Erica, pretending to be the peacemaker but really just twisting the knife, smiled sweetly. “It’s not that gifts have to be expensive, but whether you put your heart into it is obvious at a glance.”

I pleaded, forcing a laugh and wiping sweat from my brow. “Ladies, please, stop roasting me. Really, I did put my heart into this gift. You’ll see in a minute. Can we eat first?” The waiter hovered nearby, pretending to refill water but clearly eavesdropping on the drama.

Rachel finally looked up, her eyes hard and glassy. She leaned back in her chair, arms crossed, and sneered, “Eat what? I’ve lost my appetite.”

Her words landed like a slap, loud enough for everyone nearby to hear. The birthday cake with its sparklers suddenly felt out of place.

Her attitude only fueled her friends. Like sharks smelling blood, they pounced, voices sharp and angry, electricity crackling at the table.

“This gift is fucking ridiculous,” Melissa said, her voice bouncing off the pressed tin ceiling. People at the next table tried to look away, but couldn’t help listening in.

Jessica jabbed her fork at me, her words like cross-examination: “And you talk about sincerity and effort? Please, you’re just a calculating stingy guy.”

Brittany shook her head, her voice heavy with practiced bitterness. “Men are all the same. Sweet as honey when they’re chasing you. Once they’ve got you, they don’t give a damn.”

They took turns tearing into me, every insult piling on like hot coals. My ears burned, and I could feel my heartbeat pounding in my throat. The restaurant felt like a sauna, the smell of food suddenly turning my stomach.

I couldn’t think of a single comeback. My hands clenched in my lap, jaw locked. In my mind, I kept replaying every step—how did it all go so wrong?

I wanted to shout, Just open the damn jar, Rachel. But the words stuck in my throat.

Not to mention I’d spent nearly $60,000 on a Mercedes for her, parked just outside with a bow on the dash. This was supposed to be the mic-drop moment. If only they’d let me get there.

Even this meal, at a hundred bucks a head, was almost a grand. We’d booked the private room at the hottest spot in downtown Dallas—white tablecloths, artisan bread, the works. Not exactly fast food money.

I knew most of them were always complaining about bills and rent, but tonight, you’d think they were all Real Housewives.

And Rachel just sat there, her face blank as a poker player’s, eyes fixed on the table, letting them insult me over and over.

Honestly, by this point I was starting to get pissed off. My fingers dug into the napkin, and my blood felt like it was boiling.

But it was Rachel’s birthday, so I tried to swallow my anger. I took a deep breath, just like my therapist taught me—count to ten, don’t make a scene. Still, the words caught in my throat.

“Rachel, you know how I usually treat you. Do you really think I’m stingy?” My voice was low, a little desperate. I searched her eyes for a sign of the girl I knew.

Ever since we got together, I’ve paid for everything—gifts, trips, that Tiffany necklace she posted on Instagram. I never kept score, but suddenly it felt like maybe I should have.