**”I’ve Been Sick of You Since Our Wedding Night! You Disgust Me! Leave Me Alone!”**
Id spent ages picking the perfect restaurant for our second anniversary. I didnt just want a pretty place with decent foodI wanted somewhere where every little detail would make the evening unforgettable.
In the end, I settled on *The Gilded Swan*a new venue in an old manor house with stained-glass windows and antique chandeliers.
Antony winced when I showed him the photos.
*”Whats all the fuss for? We could just have a quiet dinner somewhere. Who needs all this tacky glamour?”*
But I insisted. Sixty guests, a live band, a proper hostthe works. After that awful car crash six months ago, I wanted a proper celebration. Something bright, something loud, something *alive*.
The planning took weeks.
I double-checked everythingthe decorations, the menu, the evenings schedule, even the party favours. It had to be perfect. Maybe because it was my first big event since leaving the hospital. Or maybe because I just wanted this anniversary to be unforgettable in every way. Down to the last detail.
I smoothed the creases in my deep plum dress and checked the clock. Guests would start arriving any minute. Antony 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, shrugging. *”Just hate these things. All the fuss, all the nonsense. And for what? Some staged performance of happiness?”*
I said nothing. Two years of marriage had taught me to ignore his jabs. Especially today. Today was *my* night.
***
My parents arrived first. Dad, as always, looked effortlessly sharp. Mum wore a new dusty-rose dress that brought out her complexion. She practically threw herself at me in a hug.
*”Oh, sweetheart, Im just so glad youre here. After that accident, I thought Id lose my mind”*
*”Mum, not now,”* I said gently. *”Tonights for good things, remember?”*
Colleagues from Dads firmwhere Antony and I both workedfriends, family, they all trickled in. I greeted them with a smile, but my eyes kept flicking to my husband. He stood apart, sipping whiskey, which was oddhe never drank at parties.
Eleanor, our head accountant, came over. She paled slightly when I turned to her. Probably remembering how Id looked in the hospitalwired up, half-dead, doctors muttering grimly.
*”You look radiant, Caroline,”* she said, forcing a smile. *”Especially considering… well, you know.”*
*”Thanks,”* I replied smoothly. *”You look lovely too.”*
Something in her gaze prickled at me, but I ignored it. No distractions tonight.
The party began.
Toasts, music, dancingfrom the outside, it looked perfect. But tension hummed beneath it all.
Antony stayed on the sidelines, only half-engaging. Sometimes, hed shoot Eleanor a look. Shed pretend not to notice.
I sidled up to him. *”Dance with me? It *is* our night.”*
*”Not now,”* he snapped. *”Headache.”*
*”Youve been acting strange all evening.”*
*”Just tired. You know I hate crowds. Stop reading into things!”*
***
The evening rolled on. The hosta sharp-suited young blokekept the mood lively.
I watched it all, hiding my nerves. Only I knew how *special* tonight would be. I just had to wait.
Antony kept his distance, exchanging stiff pleasantries. I noticed his glances at Eleanor but played oblivious. Each one twisted something inside me, but I smiled, laughed, accepted the well-wishes.
*”Were so glad you pulled through, darling!”* gushed one of Dads colleagues wives. *”That accident was just *horrid*!”*
*”Awful business,”* her friend chimed in. *”But thank goodness its over!”*
I nodded, thanked them, but my mind drifted back to the hospital. Hazy memoriesvoices, footsteps, the hum of machines…
*”Darling, its all just *perfect*!”* Mum squeezed my shoulders, snapping me back. *”You look *stunning* tonight!”*
*”Thanks, Mum.”*
*”But”* She hesitated. *”Antony seems… tense. Everything alright?”*
*”Fine,”* I said lightly. *”You know how he is with crowds.”*
Dad joined us, draping an arm around Mum. *”Whatre you two whispering about?”*
*”Girl talk,”* I deflected.
*”Sweetheart,”* Dad said, pulling me into a hug. *”Im so proud of you. The way youve handled everything… Youre a fighter.”*
I buried my face in his shoulder. He didnt know half of what Id endured. And I hoped he never would.
The band struck up a slow songthe same one Antony and I had danced to at our wedding.
I crossed to him. *”Dance with me? Like we did two years ago?”*
He flinched. *”Caroline, I *said* no. Are you *trying* to provoke me?”*
*”Why would I?”* I searched his face. *”Whats really wrong?”*
*”Nothing! Just *leave me alone*!”*
His harshness froze me in place.
Then I saw Eleanor slip out. Antony followed. Waiting a beat, I trailed them.
They stood in the empty corridor, whispering urgently. At my approach, they fell silent.
*”Whats going on?”* I asked evenly.
*”Nothing,”* Eleanor said with a strained smile. *”Just work talk.”*
*”At our *anniversary*?”*
*”Caroline, *drop it*!”* Antony hissed.
*”Me? *Youve* been off all night. Whats your problem?”*
Back in the ballroom, the music roared. Guests danced. Dad gave another toast. Eleanor avoided my gaze, her hands shaking as she sipped her wine.
*”Antony, talk to me,”* I pressed. *”Whats really happening?”*
*”I dont *want* to! Enough!”* he snapped.
*”But I *need* to understa”*
*”Just *back off*!”* He whipped around
Right as the music cut.
Silence.
And in that silence, his words rang out like a gunshot:
***”IVE BEEN SICK OF YOU SINCE OUR WEDDING NIGHT! YOU DISGUST ME! LEAVE ME ALONE!”***
The words hit like a slap. The room spun. Time frozeshocked faces, Eleanors pallor, Antonys smug glare.
I exhaled slowly.
*There it is.*
The moment Dad and I had waited for.
Oddly, I felt *relief*. Like a weight lifting. A tiny smirk touched my lips as I nodded to the host.
The lights dimmed.
On the big screenmeant for anniversary slidesa grainy black-and-white video flickered to life.
A hospital room. Machines beeping. Meunconscious, wired up. The timestamp: three months ago.
I remembered when Dad first showed me this. A week after Id left the hospital. Hed hesitated, unsure when to tell me.
*”I had to keep watch, love,”* hed said, pressing play.
On screen, the door creaked open. Two figures slipped inAntony and Eleanor.
*”Quiet,”* she whispered. *”What if she wakes up?”*
*”She wont,”* Antony said, almost *pleased*. *”Doctors said shes got no chance.”*
The ballroom was dead silent. I saw Antonys knuckles whiten on his chair.
On screen, he dragged Eleanor into a kissdeep, hungry, right beside my hospital bed.
*”Everythings falling into place,”* he murmured between kisses. *”Now we can be together. Just a little longer…”*
*”Antony, wait”* Eleanor pulled back. *”What if she *lives*?”*
*”She wont. Odds are *nil*. Its all gone perfectly. I *planned* it this way.”*
The recording rolled ontheir whispers about my shares, their affair (starting *before* our wedding), their *acting*.
Dad had trembled showing me this. Wed *planned* tonightpicking the perfect moment to expose them.
The screen paused on their clinch by my bedmy vitals blinking faintly in the background.
Silence.
Then
***”OH MY GOD!”*** Mums shriek shattered the quiet. She lunged for Antony
