I pushed it away. It tipped, spilling wine across his expensive suit.
A stunned hush fell over the room.
Then—clack—Bianca slammed her chopsticks down.
“Kevin, enough already! I let it go the other night. And now Darren is trying to patch things up and you’re still making a scene?”
“‘Not feeling well’? More like being petty.”
She grabbed a bottle, poured a glass to the brim and stormed over.
“Here. Drink.”
Darren tried to de-escalate. “Ms. Bianca, it’s fine. He’s not feeling well—don’t force him.”
A few others chimed in, trying to calm her down.
But Bianca wasn’t backing off.
“Kevin, do I not give you enough respect?”
“You’re a grown man. How long are you going to act like a spoiled brat?”
“Darren is being the bigger person and trying to end this nonsense and you’re still putting up a front? Are you trying to humiliate me?”
I looked at her, baffled. “End a conflict? Did I hear that right? Or are you just delusional? Is that what he’s doing?”
“You’re unbelievable!” she snapped.
Fury blazed in her eyes.
“I’m warning you—either you drink this glass, or get ready for a divorce. I’ve had it. I won’t tolerate another minute of this!”
I nodded, calm and steady.
“Fine. Then let’s divorce.”
