I Left My Wife in the Restaurant on Our 10th.
My wife’s prank at our anniversary dinner pushed me over the edge. I abandoned her at the restaurant where we were celebrating and took the kids. Then, her mom’s shocking suggestion made me question everything about our ten-year marriage.

I adjusted my tie as we walked into Le Petit Chateau, the fanciest restaurant in town. Fiona’s auburn hair caught the light, reminding me why I’d fallen for her all those years ago.

“Table for two, under Aidan,” I told the hostess.

She led us to a secluded corner, all crisp white tablecloths and flickering candles. I pulled out Fiona’s chair, hoping for a smile, but she was already reaching for her phone.

“Everything okay?” I asked as we sat down.

Fiona glanced up, startled. “Oh, yeah. Just checking something quick.”

I nodded, trying to hide my disappointment. This was supposed to be our special night, but she seemed a million miles away.

The waiter appeared with menus. “Can I interest you in our anniversary special? A bottle of champagne to start?”

“That sounds perfect,” I said, smiling at Fiona. “What do you think, honey?”

She was staring at her phone again. “Hm? Oh, sure. Whatever you want.”

I sighed and ordered the champagne. As the waiter walked away, I reached across the table and gently touched Fiona’s hand.

“Hey, can we maybe put the phones away? It’s our anniversary.”

Fiona looked guilty. “You’re right, I’m sorry. It’s just this new video series I found—”

I tried to keep the irritation out of my voice. “Another prank channel?”

“They’re hilarious, Aidan! You should see some of these—”

I tuned out as she launched into a description of the latest viral prank. My mind wandered back to the past few weeks, and I felt my stomach tighten.

It had started innocently enough, Fiona showing me funny videos on her phone, and both of us laughing. But then she’d started trying to recreate them at home.

There was the time she jumped out from behind the shower curtain, nearly giving me a heart attack. The fake spider in Nora’s lunchbox that made our daughter cry. The “broken” glass prank that left Callum afraid to touch anything in the kitchen for days.

Each time, Fiona would laugh it off. “It’s just a joke!” she’d say. “Don’t be so serious!”

But I’d seen the fear in our kids’ eyes, felt the constant tension in my own shoulders. It wasn’t funny anymore. It was exhausting.

I snapped back to the present as the waiter returned with our champagne. Fiona was still talking, gesturing animatedly about some YouTuber’s latest stunt.

Then she stood up abruptly. “I need to use the restroom. Be right back.”

I watched her walk away, a sense of unease growing in my stomach. Something felt off.

Suddenly, a commotion erupted behind me. I turned to see Fiona stumbling between tables, clutching her throat.

“I can’t breathe!” she gasped, falling to her knees. “Help me!”

The restaurant erupted in chaos. People rushed to her side, calling for help. I sat frozen, unable to process what was happening.

Then Fiona started laughing. “Just kidding!” she announced, getting to her feet. “It was a prank!”

The silence that followed was deafening. I felt the eyes of every patron boring into me. Fiona grinned, oblivious to the horror on everyone’s faces.

“Ma’am, that was extremely inappropriate,” the manager said, approaching our table. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

I stood up, grabbing my coat. “I’m leaving,” I said, my voice tight with anger. “Without my wife. You can get an Uber home on your own,” I informed her.

Fiona’s smile faltered. “Aw, come on. It was just a joke!”

I didn’t even respond. I couldn’t even look at her. I rushed out to the car and made off before she had time to respond—besides, she needed to settle the bill anyway.

As soon as I got home, I headed for the kids’ rooms. “Pack a bag,” I told Nora and Callum. “We’re going to Uncle Declan’s for a bit.”

An hour later, I was knocking on my brother’s door, two sleepy kids in tow. Declan took one look at my face and ushered us inside without a word.

“Guest room’s all yours,” he said, helping me with the bags. “Want to talk about it?”

I shook my head. “Not tonight. Thanks, bro.”

My phone buzzed incessantly with messages from Fiona. I ignored them all and tried to sleep.

The next morning, I woke to find 37 missed calls and twice as many texts. I scrolled through them, my anger reigniting.

“You’re overreacting.”

“It was just a joke!”

“How could you embarrass me like that?”

“You owe me an apology.”

I was about to turn off my phone when another call came through—this time from Fiona’s mother. Against my better judgment, I answered.

“Aidan,” she began softly, “please don’t make any big decisions yet.”

“I can’t keep doing this,” I said. “The pranks, the chaos—our kids are scared, and last night… it was humiliating.”

Her voice dropped. “I know. And I’m not excusing her. But… Fiona’s been struggling since her dad died last year. She hides it by making people laugh, even if it’s the wrong way.”

I froze. Fiona had mentioned missing her dad, but I hadn’t realized how deep the grief still ran.

“She loves you, Aidan. She loves those kids. Maybe she’s lost her balance, but she’s not lost to you. Don’t walk away without at least talking to her.”

I didn’t know what to say. The anger was still there, but beneath it was something else—confusion, maybe even guilt. I looked over at my kids still sleeping in Declan’s guest room, and for the first time since last night, I felt the sting of doubt.

Was Fiona just a thoughtless prankster… or a woman drowning in grief, desperate for attention in the only way she knew how?

I didn’t have an answer. But I knew one thing: before I made a choice that would change all our lives, I needed to hear her out.

So I took a deep breath, scrolled to her number, and hit call.