My mother and I were enjoying a rare, elegant dinner when a loud woman barged in, disrupting the entire restaurant. Just as we tried to ignore her, she flung food across the table, splattering sauce onto my mother’s dress. I wasn’t about to let that slide.
My mother and I had been looking forward to this dinner for weeks. Just the two of us, a rare chance to enjoy something special without rushing, obligations, or distractions.
A daughter hugging her mother | Source: Pexels
I had picked the restaurant carefully. It was one of the best in town, elegant but not stuffy, with dim lighting, soft jazz floating through the air, and the quiet hum of conversation.
It was the kind of place where people spoke in low voices, where waiters moved gracefully between tables. Everything there felt just a little more refined.
A luxurious restaurant | Source: Pexels
Mom rarely indulged in luxury. She was the kind of woman who always put others first, never one to spend money on herself. Growing up, she made sure I had what I needed before ever considering her own wants.
So tonight, I wanted her to simply enjoy. She had spent extra time getting ready, carefully picking out a navy blue dress that made her eyes stand out. I could tell she felt good in it, and seeing her like that made me feel good too.
A smiling woman in a dress | Source: Pexels
“This is lovely,” Mom said as she unfolded her napkin.
I smiled. “You deserve it.”
A waiter approached with a warm smile. “Good evening, ladies. Would you like to start with something to drink?”
Mom glanced at me. “What do you think?”
A mature woman in a restaurant | Source: Pexels
“We’re celebrating,” I said. “Let’s get some wine.”
The waiter nodded, and just as he turned away, the restaurant door swung open.
A woman in her 50s stormed in, dressed in a flashy leopard-print blouse, her blonde hair teased too high, her phone already on speaker. Her voice cut through the peaceful atmosphere like a chainsaw.
A mature woman entering a restaurant | Source: Midjourney
“Yeah, so anyway, I told her she better not pull that with me!”
Heads turned. Conversations slowed. The soft elegance of the restaurant cracked under her presence.
A deep, booming voice answered from the phone. “Oh, you KNOW she will.”
A woman talking on her phone | Source: Midjourney
She cackled, a sharp, high-pitched laugh that made people wince. Mom shifted in her chair, her shoulders tensing, while I sighed, already regretting that she had sat so close to us.
The woman strutted toward the table next to ours and dropped into the chair, setting her phone against her water glass. She made no attempt to lower her voice.
A mature woman talking on her phone in a restaurant | Source: Midjourney
“I told her, ‘I’ll RUIN you!’” she continued, practically shouting as she tossed her purse onto the table. She gestured wildly, her free hand moving through the air with dramatic sweeps.
A couple seated on her other side exchanged a look. The man leaned toward their waiter, whispered something, and moments later, they were quietly escorted to a different table far from her. She didn’t notice. Or she didn’t care.
An uncomfortable couple | Source: Pexels
The waiter returned with our wine, carefully placing the glasses in front of us, his voice lower than before. “Would you like a moment before ordering?”
I forced a polite smile. “Yes, please.”
Mom exhaled, shaking her head. “Some people have no awareness.”
I took a sip of wine and nodded toward her plate. “Let’s focus on the food.”
A dreamy young woman in a restaurant | Source: Pexels
Mom smiled, always one to take the high road. She picked up her fork, twirled some pasta, and took a bite, savoring the moment.
Then, disaster struck. It happened so fast. The woman let out another loud cackle and flung her arm outward, her fork still in her hand. A glob of thick, red marinara sauce flew through the air.
I saw it too late. It landed directly on my mother’s dress.
A sauce stain on blue fabric | Source: Midjourney
The navy blue fabric now had a bright red stain across the front.
A hush fell over the room. The sound of forks clinking against plates stopped. Nearby diners turned, their eyes widening as they registered what had just happened.
I looked at my mother. She had frozen in place, her fork hovering mid-air, her gaze locked on the stain. Slowly, she placed it down.
I turned to the woman.
A woman turning around | Source: Pexels
She had seen it. She had watched the sauce hit my mother’s dress.
And then, she smirked.
“Oops.”
That was it. No apology, no concern, not even a second glance before she turned back to her phone.
A woman smirking in a restaurant | Source: Midjourney
Mom reached for her napkin, dabbing at the stain with slow, careful movements. She didn’t say anything, but I could see the disappointment in her eyes, the moment of hurt she was trying to swallow down.
She continued dabbing at the stain, her expression calm, but I knew better. She wasn’t the type to make a fuss, no matter how much she deserved to. But I wasn’t my mother.
A mature woman covering her face with her hand | Source: Pexels
I leaned in, my voice sharp but steady. “Excuse me, you just got food all over my mother.”
The woman barely glanced up from her phone. “Yeah, well, accidents happen.” Her voice was flat, dismissive, as if she had spilled a drop of water and not ruined someone’s evening.
My fingers tightened around my glass. “Right. Just like how it would be an accident if someone bumped into your table and—whoops—spilled this very full glass of wine?”
A woman holding a glass of red wine | Source: Pexels
That got her attention.
Her eyes flicked to the deep red liquid swirling dangerously close to the rim. I tilted the glass slightly, just enough to let her imagine the worst.
“You wouldn’t,” she scoffed, but her voice had lost some of its edge.
I smiled. “Wouldn’t I?”
A woman with a serious expression at a restaurant | Source: Midjourney
For the first time, she looked uneasy.
She sat up a little straighter, finally lowering her phone. “Listen, sweetheart, don’t be so dramatic. It’s just a little sauce. Your mom can get it dry-cleaned.”
A sharp breath left my nose. “It’s not about the dress. It’s about basic human decency.”
She rolled her eyes and reached for her fork. “Jesus. People are so sensitive these days.”
A woman staring straight ahead | Source: Pexels
Before I could respond, a new voice cut in.
“Ma’am.”
The restaurant manager had appeared beside us. He was tall, dressed in a crisp black suit, his expression carefully composed. His voice was smooth, polite, but firm. He had seen everything.
He turned to my mother first. “I’m so sorry for what happened. Please forgive us for the inconvenience, and of course, dessert is on the house.”
A smiling manager talking to a woman | Source: Pexels
Mom, ever gracious, nodded. “That’s very kind of you.”
Then the manager turned to the woman.
“And as for you,” he said, his polite smile never reaching his eyes, “lower your voice or leave. Oh, and just so you know—” he gestured toward the couple that had moved earlier “—we’ve covered their meal. No one should have to suffer through such inconsiderate behavior.”
A manager and a waitress smiling | Source: Freepik
The woman blinked. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” His voice remained leveled, but his patience had thinned.
She let out an incredulous laugh. “Are you serious? This is discrimination.”
“Not at all, ma’am,” the manager replied smoothly. “We just value respectful diners.”
A restaurant manager with a notepad | Source: Pexels
For a moment, she looked like she might argue. Her mouth opened, but then she glanced around the room, noticing the way people were staring. The weight of dozens of judging eyes pressed down on her.
A ripple of quiet applause spread through the room.
Karen’s face turned an angry shade of red. She scoffed, looking around as if expecting someone to come to her defense, but no one did. Her eyes flicked to the manager, then back to me.
A serious woman in a restaurant | Source: Midjourney
“You won’t get away with this!” she snapped, her voice louder than ever.
James, still composed, tilted his head slightly.
Karen let out an irritated huff, yanking her phone off the table with one hand while shoving her chair back with the other. The legs scraped against the floor, making a sharp screech that cut through the quiet.
A woman leaving in a hurry | Source: Midjourney
“Unbelievable,” she muttered under her breath. She reached into her bag, pulled out some cash, and tossed it onto the table without counting. Then, with one final glare in my direction, she stormed out of the restaurant, her heels clicking loudly with each step.
The second the door swung shut behind her, the room seemed to breathe again. Conversations resumed, waiters moved with a little more ease, and the soft hum of jazz once again filled the air.
A lively night in a restaurant | Source: Pexels
I exhaled, my grip on my wine glass finally loosening. When I turned to my mother, I expected to see frustration, maybe even embarrassment.
Instead, she chuckled. “Well,” she said, shaking her head, “that was quite the dinner.”
I let out a small laugh, reaching for my glass. “To karma.”
She raised hers, and we clinked them together, the deep red liquid inside staying exactly where it belonged.
A happy mother and daughter | Source: Pexels
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.
After a Call from a Stranger, a Woman’s Recent Love Story Turns Into a Drama – Story of the Day
“All men are liars.” With these words, Violet ended her radio program. Her life experiences and the countless stories she heard from her listeners had proven it. But, a date with a coworker made her question her belief. After a call from a stranger, she was convinced she had been right all along.
Violet sat comfortably in her chair, leaning slightly toward the microphone in the cozy, dimly lit studio of a local radio station.
The equipment’s soft hum and the faint buzz of the control board’s lights cast a warm, golden glow across the room.
Opposite her was James, her co-host, his posture more relaxed, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the table as they listened to the voice crackling through the speakers.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“He’s pulling away from me…” Susan’s voice trembled, and a muffled sob came through.
“I don’t know what to do. We barely talk anymore. I never thought I’d turn to a radio show for advice, but I don’t have anyone else who’ll listen.”
Violet adjusted her headphones, her expression softening.
“Don’t worry, Suzy, right? That’s your name?”
Her voice was calm, like the steady rhythm of a heartbeat, offering comfort through the static.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Yes, it’s Susan,” the caller confirmed, her breath hitching.
“Well, Suzy, that’s why we have this segment—to help people like you with relationship struggles. Thank you for sharing your story. It’s brave of you.”
Susan hesitated before asking, “So… what do you think I should do, Violet?”
Violet straightened in her chair, her tone sharp yet controlled.
“The same thing I always say—forget him. He’s either cheating on you or stringing you along. Either way, you deserve better.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
James’s head snapped up, and he raised an eyebrow at her.
“Violet, maybe we shouldn’t jump to conclusions. It could be anything—stress at work, personal issues. Maybe he doesn’t know how to communicate.”
Violet gave him a sidelong glance.
“Or maybe he has a mistress,” she said dryly. “Let’s not sugarcoat it. All men are liars.”
The tension hung for a moment, but Violet quickly turned back to the microphone, her professional smile firmly in place.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Thanks for tuning in, folks. Enjoy the next song.” She flipped the switch, cutting their microphones.
Music filled the studio, and Violet leaned back, the faintest smirk playing on her lips.
James, however, shook his head slightly, unsure whether to push back or let it slide.
The studio lights dimmed slightly as the end-of-shift silence settled over the room.
Violet gathered her things—her notebook, headphones, and an oversized scarf she draped over her shoulder.
She moved with her usual efficiency, but her mind was already on the comfort of home and a hot cup of tea.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
James lingered by the console, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.
His usual easygoing demeanor seemed absent, replaced by a noticeable nervousness. Finally, he stepped closer, clearing his throat.
“You were ruthless with men today, as usual,” he said, flashing her a sheepish grin. His attempt at humor was met with a raised eyebrow.
Violet paused and glanced at him.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“You’ve been here six months, James,” she replied flatly. “I thought you’d have figured out by now what our audience expects.”
“So, it’s just for ratings, then?” James asked, tilting his head.
“You don’t actually believe all that?”
Violet shrugged, her expression unreadable.
“I never said that. What do you want, James? I was about to head home.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
James rubbed the back of his neck, looking anywhere but at her. “Well, uh… I’ve been meaning to ask…” His words trailed off as his confidence wavered.
“Spit it out,” Violet said, smirking slightly, amused by his awkwardness. “Talking is supposed to be your job.”
He chuckled nervously, his face flushing. “Would you, um… like to go on a date with me?”
“A date?” Violet blinked, caught off guard. “Like a date-date?”
“Yes. Exactly. There’s a great place nearby I think you’d like.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Violet hesitated, shifting her bag on her shoulder. “James, you know I’m not big on dating.”
“Because you think all men are liars, right?” James teased. His tone was light but daring. “Let me prove that not all of us are that bad. Some of us are mostly honest.”
“Mostly?” Violet repeated, laughing despite herself. “Fine. But don’t expect miracles.”
“That’s good enough for me,” James said, his grin widening as he grabbed his coat.
The small restaurant felt like a hidden gem, the kind of place you’d never stumble upon unless someone showed you.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Candlelight flickered on every table, casting warm, golden hues across the room while the smooth notes of live jazz wove through the air.
The musicians, tucked into a corner, played as though they were part of the room’s heartbeat, their gentle melodies making the space feel alive yet soothing.
James pulled out a chair for Violet, his movements natural, unforced. Violet raised an eyebrow but couldn’t help a small smile as she sat down.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Chivalry isn’t dead, I see,” she teased.
“Well, I try,” James said with a grin, taking his seat across from her.
Violet glanced around, taking in the cozy surroundings.
“This place is charming,” she admitted. “I didn’t know spots like this still existed.”
“Judging by that look on your face, you don’t go to places like this often,” James said, leaning forward slightly, his tone playful.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“I don’t go on dates often, that’s for sure,” Violet replied, smoothing the napkin on her lap.
“Really? Hard to believe. A radio host and such a beauty? You must have admirers.”
Violet’s cheeks turned pink, and she waved him off.
“Stop it. I used to date, but I gave it up a long time ago. It always felt like a waste of time.”
James tilted his head, curiosity flickering in his eyes. “Why’s that?”
Violet hesitated before answering.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“After dealing with betrayal, lies, and hearing all those stories on the show… It’s hard to believe in love anymore.”
James’s expression softened.
“Well,” he said gently, “not all of us are so bad.”
“Every man says that,” Violet sighed, leaning back in her chair.
James chuckled but didn’t push further. Instead, he started sharing a story about his childhood, painting vivid pictures of his clumsy adventures that left Violet laughing.
The conversation shifted naturally from funny anecdotes to deeper reflections about their lives.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Violet found herself relaxing in a way she hadn’t expected, her guard lowering with each shared laugh.
“See?” James said, grinning as she wiped away tears of laughter. “Not so bad spending time with me, is it?”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Violet replied, though her smile betrayed her words.
James stood, gesturing toward the restroom. “I’ll be right back. But I want to hear the rest of your story about the bird when I get back.”
“Hurry up, or I’ll forget it,” Violet called after him, still chuckling as she sipped her water.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Her phone buzzed on the table, interrupting her thoughts.
She frowned at the unfamiliar number and hesitated, but curiosity got the better of her.
“Hello?” she answered.
“Hi, this is Jane,” a hesitant voice said on the other end.
“Sorry to call so late, but James hasn’t come home, and your number was the only one I could find. Is he with you?”
“Jane?” Violet asked, her voice suddenly tight. “Are you his sister?”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Sister? No, I’m his girlfriend,” Jane replied sharply, the words cutting through the air like a knife.
Violet froze, the warmth of the evening draining away. Her heart pounded as Jane’s words echoed in her ears.
Without responding, she hung up, her hands trembling.
She grabbed her bag, scarf, and coat and walked briskly out of the restaurant, leaving behind the candlelight, the music, and the man she thought might have been different.
The next day at the radio station, Violet entered the studio with her usual brisk stride, her scarf loosely draped around her neck.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Her expression, however, was anything but usual. It was cold, distant—like a door slammed shut.
She avoided eye contact with James, who was already at the control board, adjusting levels and humming softly to himself.
“Hey, Violet,” James called out, his voice light. He looked up with a smile, but it faltered when she breezed past him without so much as a glance.
“I was worried about you last night. You left so suddenly. I tried calling you—”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“I’m fine,” Violet cut in, her tone sharp and clipped. She didn’t stop moving, setting her bag down with deliberate force.
James frowned, taking a cautious step toward her.
“Did I do something wrong?” he asked hesitantly, his voice quieter now.
“You tell me,” she snapped, finally meeting his eyes, her glare icy. “Or maybe ask Jane.”
The name hit him like a slap, and his brow furrowed. “Jane? How do you know her?”
“Your girlfriend called me,” she said icily. “She wanted to know when you’d be home. Don’t worry—I didn’t keep you too long.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Violet, wait—” James started, his hands raised as if to stop the invisible storm brewing between them.
“One more word,” Violet interrupted, her voice cutting through the room like a blade, “and you’ll be looking for a new job.”
James froze, his mouth half-open, then closed it. He nodded stiffly and returned to his seat, his shoulders slumping slightly.
The day dragged on in frosty silence.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
By mid-afternoon, Violet noticed something strange. James didn’t look like a man caught in a lie; he looked genuinely upset.
His face was pale, his expression distant, as if the weight of the world sat on his shoulders.
Curiosity gnawed at her. By the end of the day, she found herself following him as he left the building.
Near the station’s entrance, a young woman stood waiting. Her arms were crossed, her expression a mix of anger and desperation.
“James! We need to talk!” the woman shouted, stepping closer.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
James stopped abruptly and sighed. “We’ve got nothing to talk about, Jane,” he said, his voice firm but weary. “I’ve told you before—we’re done. It has been months! Why won’t you let it go already!?”
“But I love you! No one else will ever love you the way I do! Even that coworker of yours!” Jane cried, her voice breaking.
“Enough!” James snapped. “Because of the lies you told her, Violet won’t even look at me. I’ve had it, Jane. Stay out of my life.”
Jane burst into tears, her shoulders shaking as she pleaded one last time, but James didn’t budge.
Finally, she climbed into her car and drove away, leaving James standing alone. He sank onto the building’s steps, burying his face in his hands.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Violet hesitated before stepping forward. “James…” she said quietly. “I heard everything.”
He looked up, his eyes tired but calm. “Now you know what I was trying to explain,” he said.
“I’m sorry,” Violet said softly, her voice filled with genuine regret. “But can you blame me for assuming the worst?”
“No. But not only men can lie as you can see.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
She managed a faint smile, her defenses softening.
“Maybe not. Should we give this another try?”
James straightened, a hint of hope returning to his face.
“Why not?” he replied, a small grin tugging at his lips. “After all, tonight’s already been full of surprises.”
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If you enjoyed this story, read this one: Every year, Sarah had to devise a new excuse to explain to her family why they wouldn’t be visiting. “I won’t miss a single-family holiday because of your parents!” her husband Peter always insisted. But this time, Sarah stood her ground and defended her family values.
This piece is inspired by stories from the everyday lives of our readers and written by a professional writer. Any resemblance to actual names or locations is purely coincidental. All images are for illustration purposes only. Share your story with us; maybe it will change someone’s life.
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