**Diary Entry 12th November**
It was meant to be perfect. Our second wedding anniversary. Id spent weeks picking the right placenot just nice food and pretty decor, but somewhere that felt special. In the end, I settled on *The Golden Pheasant*, a new restaurant in an old manor house with stained-glass windows and antique chandeliers.
Anthony wrinkled his nose when I showed him the pictures.
*”Why all the fuss? We could just go somewhere quiet. Who needs this pretentious nonsense?”*
But I insisted. Sixty guests, live musicians, a proper toastmaster. After the car crash six months ago, I needed something bright, something to remember. Something *alive*.
I double-checked everythingthe table settings, the menu, the little gifts for our guests. Maybe it was because it was my first big event since coming home from hospital. Or maybe I just wanted this anniversary to be unforgettable in every way.
I smoothed the folds of my deep plum dress and glanced at the clock. Guests would arrive any minute. Anthony stood by the window, staring blankly at the street, his reflection tense in the glass.
*”Whats on your mind?”* I asked, stepping closer.
*”Nothing,”* he muttered, shrugging. *”Just hate these things. All this effort for what? A room full of fake smiles.”*
I didnt react. Two years of marriage had taught me when to stay quiet. Especially tonight.
***
Mum and Dad arrived first. Dad, as always, looked sharp in his suit. Mum wore a new dusty rose dress that suited her perfectly. She hugged me tight the second she walked in.
*”Oh, my darling, Im so glad youre here. After all youve been through”*
*”Not tonight, Mum,”* I cut her off gently. *”Just happiness, remember?”*
Soon, the room filled with colleagues from Dads firmwhere Anthony and I both workedfriends, relatives. I greeted everyone with a smile, but my eyes kept flicking to Anthony. He drank more than usualwhisky, neatwhich wasnt like him.
Margaret, our head accountant, paled slightly when I turned to her. Probably remembering how Id looked in the hospitaltubes, wires, doctors murmuring uncertainly.
*”Charlotte, you look radiant!”* she said, forcing a smile. *”Especially after well, everything.”*
*”Thank you. You look lovely too.”*
Something in her gaze felt off, but I ignored it. Id deal with that later.
The evening carried onspeeches, music, dancing. To anyone else, it wouldve seemed flawless. But tension hummed beneath it all.
Anthony lingered at the edges, barely talking, throwing odd glances at Margaret. She pretended not to notice.
I approached him, smiling. *”Dance with me? Its our night.”*
*”Not now,”* he snapped. *”Headache.”*
*”Youve been strange all evening.”*
*”Just tired. Stop reading into things.”*
***
The toastmaster kept the mood lively. I watched, hiding my nerves. The real show hadnt started yet.
Anthony avoided me, exchanging tight-lipped glances with Margaret. Each one twisted something inside me, but I kept smiling, kept playing hostess.
*”Charlotte, were so relieved youre better!”* gushed Dads deputys wife. *”That accident was horrific!”*
*”Yes, awful,”* her friend chimed in. *”But thank God its over!”*
I nodded, thanked them, my mind drifting back to those hospital daysfoggy, fragmented, half-remembered voices by my bedside
Mum squeezed my shoulder. *”Everythings wonderful, darling. You look stunning! But Anthony seems tense. Is everything alright?”*
*”Fine,”* I murmured. *”He just hates crowds.”*
Dad joined us, pulling Mum close. *”Whats the whispering about?”*
*”Nothing important,”* I said lightly.
*”Sweetheart,”* Dad said, hugging me. *”Im so proud of you. Youre a fighter.”*
I buried my face in his shoulder. He didnt know half of what Id fought. And I prayed he never would.
The music slowed*our* song, from our wedding. I hurried to Anthony.
*”Dance with me? Like we did two years ago?”*
He flinched. *”Charlotte, I said no. Are you mocking me?”*
*”Why would I? Whats wrong?”*
*”Nothings wrong! Just leave me alone!”*
His shout cut through the room. Silence fell. And in that silence, his next words rang like a death knell:
*”Ive been sick of you since our wedding night! You repulse me! Get away from me!”*
***
The words hit like a slap. The room spun. For a second, time frozeshocked faces, Margarets ashen cheeks, Anthonys smug glare.
I exhaled slowly. *Finally.* The moment Dad and I had waited for.
Instead of pain, I felt relief. Like a weight lifting. A faint smirk touched my lips as I nodded to the toastmaster.
The lights dimmed. The projector screen flickered to life.
Black-and-white footagea hospital room, six months ago. Me, unconscious, machines beeping. Then the door creaked open.
Two figures slipped inside.
Anthony. Margaret.
*”Quiet,”* she whispered. *”What if she wakes up?”*
*”She wont,”* Anthony said, voice thick with satisfaction. *”Doctors said shes done for.”*
The room was dead silent. I saw guests wide eyes, Anthonys white-knuckled grip on his chair.
On screen, he pulled Margaret into a hungry kissright beside my hospital bed.
*”Everythings falling into place,”* he murmured between kisses. *”Well be together soon. Just wait”*
*”Anthony, stop,”* Margaret gasped. *”What if she lives?”*
*”She wont. Ive planned this perfectly.”*
More footage playedtheir whispered plans for my inheritance, their affair dating back to before our wedding, their confidence theyd never be caught.
I paused it on the worst shot: them entwined, my vital monitors glowing behind them.
Mum screamed first. *”How could you?!”*
Margaret bolted for the doorbut the security Dad had hired blocked her.
Anthonys composure cracked. *”Charlotte, this isnt what it looks like”*
*”Really?”* I stepped closer. *”You plotting over my will while I fought to live? Kissing her as I lay dying?”*
Dads deputy muttered curses. Someone filmed on their phone.
Anthonys mask slipped completely. *”Youyou planned this! This whole bloody night!”*
*”Yes,”* I said calmly. *”Just like you planned our wedding while sleeping with her. Just like you married me for Dads company. Just like you”*
He stormed out, Margaret scrambling after him.
*”Youll regret this!”* he snarled.
*”No,”* I whispered. *”Thats your job.”*
***
Three months later, the police dropped the investigation. *”Not enough evidence,”* the detective said, rubbing his temples. *”Times eroded too much.”*
But other consequences stuck.
Dad called an emergency board meeting. Anthony and Margaret were sacked*”gross misconduct.”* Word spread fast; no reputable firm would touch them.
Anthony came begging a week later. *”Charlotte, talk to me! We can fix this”*
*”No,”* I said, not even letting him inside. *”Divorce papers are with my solicitor.”*
Margaret vanished firstrumour said she fled to Manchester. Anthony lingered, jobless, desperate, before disappearing too.
*”Darling,”* Dad said when I got home from the station, *”truths what matters. They got what they deserved.”*
Mum set the table, pouring my favourite tea. We sat, just the three of us, like before.
Tomorrow, the divorce hearing begins. Anthonys called, begging to settle quietly. But I want it official. A full stop.
This morning, I caught my reflection and smiled. Not from pain. Not from exhaustion.
From hope.
**Lesson learned:** A cheaters worst enemy isnt angerits patience. Let them hang themselves with their own rope. And when they do, walk away without looking back.
