The second he walked in, my heart sank.
Colin.
The same Colin who broke my heart just days ago, now strutting into the restaurant like nothing had happened—with her on his arm. His sidepiece. The reason I was sleeping on my best friend’s couch and scrambling to rebuild my life.
And now they were here. At my new job. On my first shift.
I tightened my apron and took a breath. I needed this job more than I needed revenge. But the moment I reached their table, Colin made sure I knew exactly why he’d shown up.
“Well, well,” he smirked. “Didn’t think I’d find you here. Guess I don’t need to miss your cooking—looks like I still get served by you.”
His new girlfriend—Riley, or something equally fake—tilted her head with a smirk. “We’re starving. Be quick, unless you want to lose this job too.”
I clenched my teeth. “Can I get you something to drink?”
Colin laughed. “Look at you—so professional.”
I walked away before I lost it. In the kitchen, my hands shook as I filled their drinks. That’s when Marco, our head chef, noticed.
“You good?” he asked. Gruff but sharp.
I hesitated—then spilled everything. The breakup. The cheating. Them sitting at my table just to rub it in.
He paused, eyes narrowing. Then he said, “Want to have a little fun?”
What happened next? Legendary.
I took their order—of course they went for the priciest items. Colin couldn’t resist a show. Back in the kitchen, Marco was already prepping… but this time, with a twist.
A dash of his infamous chili powder in everything. The butter. The pasta sauce. Even the whipped cream on their dessert.
“Won’t they notice?” I asked.
“Not until it’s way too late,” he grinned.
When I served their meals, I kept my face neutral. Colin took a bite of steak and smirked—at first. Five seconds in, his expression changed. Sweat beaded. His eyes went wide.
Riley, still smug, was mid-bite of pasta when she froze. “What… the hell is in this?!”
Colin chugged his water—and immediately gagged. “Even the water’s spicy?!”
Riley reached for bread. Bad idea. Then dessert. Worse.
Her scream echoed across the restaurant.
The entire place went quiet. Then someone at a nearby table offered, “Try the dessert!”—bless their heart.
By now, Colin’s face was crimson. He waved me over, wheezing.
“What is this?” he demanded.
“Our chef’s signature flair,” I replied sweetly. “Compliments of the house.”
He sputtered, “Get us something to stop the heat!”
I nodded slowly. “Of course.”
By the time I returned with plain milk, they were halfway to the door—Colin holding his tongue like it was melting, and Riley fanning her face like she’d been maced.
Marco stood behind the counter, arms folded, watching them go. “Think they’ll be back?”
“Not unless they like pain,” I said.
And just like that—the whole diner erupted in applause. Customers clapped. A few cheered. One even fist-bumped me as I passed.
For the first time in days, I felt strong. Empowered.
Because Colin came here thinking I’d fall apart. Instead, he left running—mouth on fire, pride in ashes.
And me? I walked away with my dignity, my job, and an entire restaurant behind me.
That’s what you call serving justice hot. 🔥
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