“I can’t stand youI’ve been sick of you since our wedding night! You disgust me! Just leave me alone!” my husband announced, right in the middle of our anniversary party.
Id spent ages picking the perfect restaurant for our second wedding anniversary. I wanted something specialnot just a pretty place with nice food, but somewhere where every little detail added to the magic of the evening. In the end, I settled on *The Golden Pheasant*, a swanky new spot in a historic manor with stained-glass windows and antique chandeliers.
Anthony had wrinkled his nose when I showed him the photos.
Whats with all the fuss? Why not just grab a quiet dinner somewhere? Who needs all this tacky showboating?
But I stood my ground. I invited sixty guests, booked musicians, and hired a proper toastmaster. After that awful car accident six months ago, I craved a proper celebrationsomething bright, unforgettable.
The preparations took weeks. I double-checked everythingthe décor, the menu, the evenings schedule, the party favours. I wanted it all to be perfect. Maybe because it was the first big event since I came home from the hospital. Or maybe just because I wanted this anniversary to be unforgettable in every way. Even the wallpaper.
I smoothed the folds of my deep plum dress and checked the time. Guests would start arriving any minute. Anthony stood by the window, staring blankly at the street. In the glass, I caught his tense reflection.
Whats on your mind? I asked, stepping closer.
Nothing, he muttered with a shrug. Just not my sort of thing. All this hassle, all these peoplewhats the point? Just to put on a happy face?
I let it slide. Two years of marriage had taught me not to rise to his little jabs. Especially not todaythe day Id spent months planning.
***
My parents arrived first. Dad, as always, looked effortlessly sharp in his suit. Mum wore a new floral dress in dusty rose that suited her perfectly. She threw her arms around me the second she walked in.
Oh, darling, Im *so* glad youre here. I still cant believe itafter that accident, I thought Id go out of my mind
Mum, not now, I said gently. Tonights for good things only. Remember?
Soon, the place filled upcolleagues from Dads firm, where Anthony and I both worked, friends, relatives. I greeted everyone with a smile, but kept an eye on my husband. He stayed distant, sipping whiskeyodd for him, since he usually avoided alcohol even at big events.
Margaret, our head accountant, came over to say hello. Her smile faltered when I turned to face her properly. Probably remembering her hospital visitsme lying there, hooked up to machines, doctors hedging their bets.
Caroline, you look radiant, she said, her smile stiff. Absolutely glowing! Especially after everything youve been through.
Thanks! You look lovely too. Dont sell yourself short.
Something in her expression felt off, but I brushed it aside. No point dwelling on itnot yet.
The party kicked off. Toasts were made, music played, guests danced. From the outside, it mightve looked flawless. But I felt the tension simmering.
Anthony hovered at the edges, occasionally chatting with colleagues. Every now and then, hed shoot Margaret a strange look, and shed pretend not to notice.
I sidled up to him. Care to dance? It *is* our party.
Not now, he muttered. Bit lightheaded.
Youve been acting odd all night.
Just tired. You know I hate crowds. No need to make a song out of it.
***
The evening rolled on. The toastmastera slick young chap in a sharp suitkept the energy up. I watched it all, careful not to let my nerves show. Only I knew how *special* this evening would be. I just had to wait for the right moment.
Anthony kept to himself, forcing smiles when he had to. I noticed the loaded glances between him and Margaret but played the oblivious hostess. Each one twisted something inside me, but I kept smiling, accepting compliments.
Caroline, were *so* glad youre better! chirped the wife of Dads deputy. What an awful fright with the accident.
Dreadful time, her friend agreed. But its all behind you now, thank goodness!
I nodded, thanking them, while my mind drifted back to those hospital dayshazy, like a half-remembered dream. Broken conversations, footsteps in my room
Darling, everythings *perfect*! Mum squeezed my shoulder. Such a gorgeous party. And you look *stunning* tonight!
Thanks, Mum.
Its just Anthony seems tense. Everything alright?
Fine, I said lightly. You know how he is with crowds.
Dad stepped in then, slipping an arm around Mum. Whats all the whispering?
Just girl talk, I said with a smile.
Sweetheart, Dad said, pulling me into a hug, Im so proud of you. How youve handled everything Youre a fighter.
I buried my face in his shoulder. He didnt know half of what Id been through. And I hoped he never would.
The band struck up a slow songthe same one Anthony and I had danced to at our wedding.
I hurried over to him. Dance with me? Like old times?
He stiffened. Caroline, I *said* no. Are you trying to provoke me?
Why? Whats wrong? I searched his face.
*Nothings* wrong. Just *drop it*!
His harshness froze me in place.
Then, through the crowd, I saw Margaret slip outfollowed moments later by Anthony. I waited a beat, then trailed after them.
They stood in the empty hallway, whispering urgently. When they spotted me, both fell silent.
Whats going on? I asked, voice steady.
Nothing, Margaret said, forcing a laugh. Just work talk.
At our anniversary?
Caroline, *enough*! Anthony snapped.
*Me?* Youve been acting weird all night. Whats your problem?
We returned to the party. The music roared, guests danced. Dad was mid-toast. Margaret dodged my gaze, her hands shaking as she lifted her glass.
Anthony, talk to me, I pressed. Whats *really* going on?
I *dont* want to! Just *stop*!
But I *need* to understand
*Back off!* He whirled on me.
Just then, the music cut out. Silence fell. And in that silence, his words hit like a hammer:
Ive been sick of you since our wedding night! You *disgust* me! *Leave me alone!*
***
His words stung like a slap. For a second, the world spun. Time frozeshocked guests, Margarets blanched face, Anthonys smug glare.
I exhaled slowly. *There it was.* The moment Dad and I had waited for. Oddly, instead of pain, I felt relieflike a weight lifting. A faint smirk tugged my lips as I gave the toastmaster a tiny nod.
The lights dimmed. The projector screen flickered to life.
Black-and-white footage of a hospital room, the steady beep of machines. Me, unconscious, tangled in wires. The date in the cornerthree months ago.
Dad had shown me this recording the week I left hospital. Hed hesitated, waiting for the right moment.
I had to keep an eye on things, hed said grimly, pressing play.
On screen, the door creaked open. Two figures crept inAnthony and Margaret. Silhouettes clear in the dim light.
Quiet, she whispered. What if she wakes up?
She *wont*, Anthony said, almost *pleased*. Doctors said shes a goner.
The room was dead silent. I saw guests horrified faces, Anthonys white-knuckled grip on his chair.
On screen, he yanked Margaret close, kissing her hungrilyright beside his wifes hospital bed.
Everythings falling into place, he murmured between kisses. Now we can be together. Just have to wait
Anthony, *wait*, she gasped. What if she *lives*?
She *wont*. Odds are zero. This went *exactly* as planned. You know I *always* plan ahead.
The recording rolled ontheir whispered schemes, how long theyd been cheating (*before* our wedding), how theyd divide my shares in Dads firm.
I remembered Dads shaking hands when he first showed me the footage. His guilt for not seeing through Anthony sooner. How wed planned this night together, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
The screen showed more clipstheir secret hospital meetings, their certainty theyd never
