I didn’t want to be his victim anymore. A waiter walked past with a tray on which a steaming bowl of red, spicy tom yum was lying. I abruptly snatched it straight from the tray, and before he could even comprehend what was happening, I poured the entire contents over his head.
There was a squeal and a scream, he jumped up, clutching his face, and the smell of spices and hot herbs filled the entire room. People froze, then someone chuckled. I straightened up, summoning all my pride, and, looking down at him, said coldly:
“A man will pay for everything.”
And, raising my head, I slowly and confidently walked out of the restaurant, leaving him in a wet suit, to the laughter and surprised glances of the guests.
