It had been a long day. My new job wasn’t exactly what I’d hoped for, but after months of searching, I was relieved just to have found something. Still, the sting of losing out on a dream role as a chef at a new upscale restaurant weighed on me. That interview had been a disaster—mostly thanks to the young, sharp-tongued girl who’d dismissed me with a smirk, telling me I was “too old” and “not slim enough” to represent their trendy establishment. Her words had cut deep, and her arrogant attitude was seared into my memory.
I was lost in thought as I walked into my house, wondering what I might whip up for dinner. But as I stepped into the kitchen, I stopped dead in my tracks. There she was—that girl—standing at my stove, stirring a pot as if she belonged there.
For a moment, I was too shocked to move. My bag slipped from my hand, hitting the floor with a thud that seemed to echo in the sudden silence.
“Mom, this is Isabel, my girlfriend!” my son, Jason, announced with a grin, completely oblivious to the tension that had just rocketed through the room.
Isabel turned to me, her face lighting up with a wide, fake smile. “It’s SO nice to meet you, Mrs. Rodgers!” she chirped, her voice dripping with false sweetness. Then, as she stepped closer to hug me, she leaned in and whispered in my ear, “Let’s forget what happened last month, okay?”
My mind raced as I processed her words, but I didn’t let her see me falter. Instead, I smirked and hugged her back—tighter than she probably expected. “Sure, dear,” I replied in a saccharine tone that mirrored hers.
But inside, I was already hatching a plan. This girl needed to learn a lesson about respect, and I was more than willing to teach it to her.
Over the next few weeks, I watched Isabel carefully. She was sweet and charming in front of Jason, but I could see the glint of arrogance in her eyes whenever she thought no one was looking. She thought she had me figured out, that I would play along and keep her little secret. But I wasn’t about to let her walk all over me or my son.
The opportunity to act came sooner than I expected. Jason mentioned that Isabel loved cooking and wanted to show off her skills to impress me. It was the perfect setup.
One Saturday, I suggested we all cook dinner together. Isabel jumped at the chance, probably thinking she could outshine me in my own kitchen. As we worked side by side, I subtly guided the conversation towards that interview. I described the girl I met, highlighting her arrogance and rudeness without mentioning names. Jason listened, curious, while Isabel’s face slowly drained of color.
“I just couldn’t believe the nerve of her,” I said, sliding a knowing glance her way. “She had no respect, no humility. She really thought she was better than everyone else.”
Isabel’s hand trembled slightly as she chopped vegetables, but she forced a smile and kept her cool. “Some people just don’t know how to treat others,” she said, her voice a little too steady.
I smiled sweetly at her, as if we were sharing a private joke. “Exactly,” I agreed. “But you know what? Life has a funny way of teaching those people a lesson. They always get what’s coming to them.”
That was when I revealed my plan: a “friendly” cooking competition, just for fun. Jason loved the idea, completely unaware of the underlying tension. Isabel, on the other hand, had no choice but to agree.
We each chose a dish to make. I picked a complex recipe that required finesse and experience, knowing full well that Isabel wouldn’t be able to keep up. As we cooked, I offered her tips and advice, masking my barbs with a smile. Isabel struggled, her confidence slowly unraveling as she realized she was out of her depth.
When the dishes were finally done, Jason was the judge. He took his role seriously, tasting each dish with care. Isabel’s was undercooked, lacking the balance of flavors that mine had. Jason’s verdict was clear—my dish was the winner.
Isabel tried to hide her disappointment, but I could see the frustration in her eyes. “Maybe I was a bit too ambitious,” she said with a forced laugh.
“Don’t worry, dear,” I said, patting her on the back. “You’re still young. You’ll learn.”
Later that evening, after Isabel had left, Jason turned to me, a puzzled expression on his face. “Mom, was something going on between you and Isabel today? It seemed like there was some weird tension.”
I smiled and shook my head. “Nothing at all, sweetheart. Just a little friendly competition.”
But as I cleaned up the kitchen, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction. Isabel had underestimated me, just as she had during that interview. But now she knew better. She wasn’t the only one who could play the game—and I had no intention of letting her forget it.