“Lauren, you upset Yvette with your words. If you’re going to apologize, at least show the proper attitude. Keep holding the bowl.”
His words pierced my heart like a dagger. Furious and humiliated, I slammed the bowl onto the table.
At that moment, Yvette suddenly stood up and “accidentally” bumped into my wrist. The bowl tilted, spilling the scalding, oily soup all over me. A burning pain spread across my skin, and I gasped in agony.
Before I could recover, Yvette cried out dramatically. “Ah! It hurts! Lauren, even if you’re unhappy with me, you shouldn’t pour hot soup on me! Are you trying to ruin my face?”
Jameson stormed over and shoved me hard. “Lauren! How could you stoop so low!?”
Shards of the broken bowl pierced my palm, sending a sharp, searing pain shooting through my hand and into my chest. Tears welled up in my eyes and finally spilled over as I stared at Jameson, my heart breaking all over again.
But he didn’t spare me a glance, his entire focus on checking Yvette’s neck with concern.
“Are you okay, Yvette?” he asked gently.