When we arrived at the restaurant, we both got out of the car, then approached the door of the restaurant, Mark opened it and we both entered, my husband placing his hand in the crook of my back while we both headed towards a table, sitting at the chairs, and some of the restaurant's waiters approached our table shortly after. Mark ordered a bottle of wine, looking at me strangely when I told him that I didn't want the wine, and that he preferred that I bring me a soft drink, although he didn't tell me or ask anything. When the waiter brought the bottle of wine and the soft...