The $3,180 Valentine’s Day Disaster
Andrew and I had been dating for three months when he invited me on a special Valentine’s Day date. “Where are we going?” I asked, excitement bubbling in my chest.
He grinned. “It’s a surprise.”
That night, I dressed up in my best red dress, heels, and a touch of perfume. When he picked me up, he was all smiles, and I felt like the luckiest girl in the world.
But nothing could have prepared me for where he took me.
We pulled up in front of **Le Château Lumière**—the most expensive restaurant in town. The kind of place where celebrities dined, and the waiting list was months long.
“Andrew,” I gasped, staring at the sparkling chandeliers through the window. “How did you—?”
“I have my ways,” he said, winking.
I was thrilled. It felt like something out of a dream.
From the moment we sat down, the luxury was overwhelming. **Fine wine. Lobsters. Oysters. Risotto with white truffles.** I had never tasted anything more delicious in my life. We laughed, we talked, we toasted to our three months together.
And then the bill came.
A crisp white slip of paper placed discreetly on the table.
**$3,180.**
I swallowed, suddenly nervous. Surely, he had planned for this, right?
Andrew pulled out his wallet, reached inside… and then—
He laughed.
I frowned. “What’s funny?”
He held up his wallet. “Uh… I think I left my card at home.”
The blood drained from my face. “You what?”
“Don’t worry, babe,” he said, grinning like this was some kind of joke. “You got this, right?”
My stomach turned. “Andrew, I— I don’t have that kind of money!”
His face twisted in fake concern. “Oh. Well, I mean… you can put it on your credit card, right?”
I blinked. Was this really happening?
“Andrew,” I hissed, leaning forward. “You brought me to **the most expensive restaurant in town** and didn’t bring a way to pay?”
He shrugged. “I thought it’d be romantic.”
“Romantic?” I choked. “This isn’t a rom-com, Andrew!”
The waiter hovered nearby, sensing the tension. “Is there a problem?”
My cheeks burned. My hands shook. I checked my bank account on my phone—**not even close.**
Andrew leaned back, arms crossed. “Well, I guess we’re stuck here until you figure something out.”
Something inside me snapped.
I looked at the waiter. “Can you split the bill?”
The waiter nodded.
“Perfect.” I pointed to **Andrew’s side of the table.** “Everything on this side is his.”
Andrew’s smug expression disappeared. “Wait, what? No—”
The waiter raised an eyebrow. “Sir?”
Andrew turned red. “I— I can’t pay!”
I smiled sweetly. “Well, neither can I. But *I* didn’t order half the menu.”
The waiter turned to Andrew. “Sir, if you can’t pay, we’ll have to call the police.”
Andrew’s jaw dropped. “You wouldn’t.”
I grabbed my purse and stood up. “Oh, they would.”
I turned and walked **right out of that restaurant.**
As I left, I heard Andrew **frantically arguing** with the waiter. I didn’t look back.
That was the last time I ever saw him.
And honestly? **Best Valentine’s Day ever.**