Revenge of the Thorn Rose: The best friend is the Worst Person

My husband, Michael, came home early that day. As he stepped inside, he caught a whiff of the lingering strong perfume in the air and frowned slightly. Without a word, he went out to the balcony and returned with a few potted plants that were safe for pregnant women and known for their air-purifying properties.

Michael had been taking excellent care of me lately. I’d even made a few small videos of him cooking and tending to my flowers and plants and surprisingly, these clips had garnered quite a few fans online. Occasionally, feeling a bit restless, I’d decide to go out and buy groceries myself.

But I never expected to run into Amanda on one of these outings. A flashy red sports car pulled up beside me and there she was.

“It’s rare to see you these days,” she remarked, a smile playing on her lips. “Care to join me for dinner?”

Inside the restaurant, I watched as she took out her cell phone, constantly posing for photos. Her every gesture seemed designed to emphasize luxury. She was a completely different person from the Amanda I had seen two months ago. She removed her sunglasses, revealing her flawless makeup. Her long, slender fingers had been adorned with an elaborate manicure. I glanced at the menu and the prices were staggering—a single dish cost as much as a month’s living expenses for an average family.

I couldn't help but feel a bit taken aback. Amanda casually ordered a lobster that cost thousands of dollars, which was enough to shock even the restaurant owner into coming out to speak with us.

“Ladies, just so you know, we don't allow refunds here,” he said, eyeing the extravagant order with thinly veiled disbelief. "Are you sure you want this much?"

Amanda’s smile never wavered. “Oh, we can afford it,” she replied, glancing at me. “And if you can’t finish, Samantha, you can always take it home and reheat it. But next time, you’ll have to be quicker to enjoy a meal like this.” She laughed, clearly relishing her display of superiority.

The restaurant owner's expression soured, but he left us to arrange the meal.

When we finished eating, Amanda glanced at me as I gathered my belongings, clearly hesitant. I could tell she was worried I might dirty her brand-new car.

“No need to worry,” I said warmly. “Michael will come and pick me up. Thank you for the lovely meal.”

She seemed relieved. “You know, Samantha, I have a date to get to,” she said with a slight smirk before walking away.

I watched her back as she left and sighed softly. Then, I called Michael.

“Honey, can you pick me up at Yao’s restaurant on X Street?” I asked.

After a brief pause, I added, “And next time, maybe we should raise the prices of the ingredients we supply to Yao. You wouldn’t believe the markup he’s charging for our seafood—it's practically highway robbery.”