Ive been sick of you since our wedding night! You disgust me! Leave me alone! my husband snapped at meon our anniversary, no less.
Id spent weeks choosing the perfect restaurant for our second wedding anniversary. I didnt just want somewhere nice with good food; I wanted a place where every detail would make the evening unforgettable.
In the end, I settled on *The Golden Pheasant*, a new venue in a historic townhouse with stained-glass windows and antique chandeliers.
Anthony wrinkled his nose when I showed him pictures of the interior.
Why all the fuss? We could just go somewhere quiet, just the two of us. Who needs this tacky showiness?
But I insisted. I invited sixty guests, hired musicians and an emcee. After that terrible car accident six months ago, I wanted a proper celebrationsomething bright, something memorable.
The preparations took weeks.
I double-checked everything: the decorations, the menu, the evenings schedule, the guest favours. I wanted it all to be perfect.
Maybe because it was the first big event since Id come home from the hospital. Or maybe because I just wanted this anniversary to be unforgettable in every wayeven the setting.
I smoothed the folds of my deep violet dress and glanced at the clock. The guests would arrive any minute. Anthony stood by the window, staring absently at the street. In the glasss reflection, I saw his tense expression.
Whats on your mind? I asked, stepping closer.
Nothing, he shrugged. Just hate these kinds of things. So much fuss, so much effortfor what? For some staged happiness?
I stayed silent. After two years of marriage, Id learned not to react to his jabs. Especially todaythe day Id spent months planning.
***
My parents arrived first. Dad, as always, looked effortlessly stylish. Mum wore a new dusty rose dress that suited her perfectly. She rushed to me and hugged me tightly.
Oh, darling, Im so glad youre here. After that accident, I thought Id lose my mind
Mum, not now, I gently stopped her. Tonights for happy things. We agreed, remember?
Next came colleagues from Dads firm, where Anthony and I worked, followed by friends and relatives. I greeted everyone with a smile, but I kept an eye on my husband. He stayed distant, sipping whiskeyuncharacteristic for him, since he usually avoided alcohol even at big events.
Margaret, our head accountant, came over to say hello. I noticed her paling slightly when I turned to her. Probably remembering how shed visited me in hospitaltubes and monitors everywhere, doctors giving no guarantees.
Charlotte, youre glowing, she said with a forced smile. You look wonderful, especially after well, after everything.
Thank you. You look lovely too.
Something about her expression felt off, but I brushed it aside. No point dwelling on itnot yet.
The party began.
Toasts were made, music played, guests danced. To an outsider, everything mightve seemed perfect. But I could feel the tension building.
Anthony kept to himself, only speaking to colleagues occasionally. Every now and then, hed shoot Margaret a strange look, and shed pretend not to notice.
I approached him with a smile.
Shall we dance? It *is* our party.
Not now, he dismissed. Heads a bit fuzzy.
Youve been acting odd all evening.
Just tired. You know I hate crowds. Stop reading into things.
***
The evening carried on. The emceea young man in a sharp suitkept the energy high.
I watched everything unfold, hiding my unease. Only I knew how special this night would really be. I just had to wait a little longer.
Anthony remained distant, forcing polite smiles now and then. I caught his glances at Margaret but pretended to be engrossed in the party. Each exchange stung, but I kept smiling, accepting congratulations.
Charlotte, were so glad youve recovered! chirped the wife of Dads deputy. Such a horrible shock when we heard about the crash.
Yes, dreadful, her friend agreed. But its behind you now, thank goodness!
I nodded, thanked them, but my mind drifted back to those hospital days. A foggy timefragmented memories, whispers, footsteps in my room
Sweetheart, everythings perfect! Mum squeezed my shoulder, pulling me back. Such a beautiful evening. And you look stunning!
Thanks, Mum.
Only Anthony seems tense. Is everything alright?
Fine, I smiled slightly. Hes just not one for crowds.
Dad joined us, slipping an arm around Mum.
Whatre you two whispering about?
Oh, just girl talk, I deflected.
Darling, he said warmly, Im so proud of you. After everything Youre a fighter.
I hugged him tightly, hiding my face against his shoulder. He didnt know half of what Id endured. And I hoped he never would.
A slow song beganthe same one Anthony and I had danced to at our wedding.
I hurried over to him.
Dance with me? Like we did two years ago?
He flinched.
Charlotte, I said I dont want to dance. Are you mocking me?
Why would I? Whats wrong?
Nothings wrong. Just leave me alone!
His harshness froze me in place.
A few seconds later, I saw Margaret slip out of the roomAnthony following. Waiting a moment, I trailed after them.
They stood in the empty hallway, whispering urgently. At my approach, they fell silent.
Whats going on? I asked calmly.
Nothing important, Margaret tried to smile. Just work matters.
At our anniversary?
Charlotte, *enough*, Anthony hissed.
*Me?* Youve been acting strange all night. I dont understand you!
We returned to the party. Music blared, guests danced. Dad was giving another toast. Margaret avoided my gaze, but I saw her hands tremble as she lifted her glass.
Anthony, talk to me, I tried again. Whats going on?
I dont want to! Stop pushing!
But I just want to understand
*Leave me alone!* He spun to face me.
At that moment, the music cut out. Silence fell. And in that quiet, his words rang like a verdict:
Ive been sick of you since our wedding night! You disgust me! Get away from me!
***
His words hit like a slap. The room tilted; my ears rang. Time seemed to freezeshocked guests, Margarets blanched face, Anthonys smug triumph.
I exhaled slowly.
*Here it is.*
The moment Dad and I had waited for.
Oddly, instead of pain, I felt relieflike a weight Id carried for months finally lifting. A faint smirk touched my lips as I gave the emcee a subtle nod.
The lights dimmed.
On the screen meant for anniversary slides, footage flickered to life.
A black-and-white hospital room, the faint glow of machines. Me, unconscious, tangled in wires. The date in the cornerthree months ago.
I remembered when Dad first showed me the recording, a week after Id come home. Hed hesitated, waiting for the right moment.
Forgive me, darling, but I had to monitor your care, hed said, pressing play.
On-screen, the door creaked open. Two figures slipped inAnthony and Margaret. Moving like thieves, thinking no one saw.
Quiet, she whispered. What if she wakes?
She wont, Anthonys voice was smug. Doctors said shes got no chance.
The room was so silent you could hear a pin drop. Guests stared, horrified. Anthonys knuckles whitened on his chair.
On-screen, he pulled Margaret close, kissing herhungry, desperate, as if forgetting where he was. Right beside his wifes sickbed.
Everythings fallen into place, he murmured between kisses. Now we can be together. We just have to wait
Anthony, wait, Margaret pulled back. What if she survives?
She wont. No one could. This went exactly as planned. You know I think ahead.
The video rolled ontheir whispered schemes, dividing my shares in the company, their affair stretching back to before our wedding. Their perfect act.
I remembered Dads shaking hands when he first played this for me. His guilt for not seeing Anthonys true colours sooner. How wed planned this night together, waiting for the right moment.
More clips followedsecret hospital meetings, their confidence theyd never be caught.
Each frame was another nail in their coffin.
I paused the footage on the worst one: them tangled together, my hospital monitors glowing behind them.
Silence.
***
Mum broke it first.
*My God How could you?!*
