Ive been sick of you since our wedding night! You disgust me! Leave me alone! my husband snapped at meright in the middle of our second anniversary dinner.
Id spent weeks picking the perfect restaurantnot just somewhere with good food, but a place where every detail would make the evening unforgettable. In the end, I chose *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 photos.
Why all the fuss? We could just have a quiet dinner somewhere. Who needs this tacky extravagance?
But I insisted. I invited sixty guests, booked musicians, and hired an emcee. After the car accident six months ago, I needed something bright, joyfula night to remember.
For weeks, I checked every detailthe decor, the menu, the schedule, the guest favors. Maybe it was because this was my first big celebration since leaving the hospital. Or maybe I just wanted this anniversary to be perfect in every way.
I smoothed the folds of my deep violet dress and checked the time. 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 with a shrug. I just hate events like this. All this fuss for what? A performance of happiness?
I stayed quiet. In two years of marriage, Id learned to ignore his jabs. Especially tonightthe night Id planned for months.
***
My parents arrived first. Dad, ever stylish, looked sharp in his suit. Mum wore a new dusty rose dress that suited her perfectly. She rushed to hug me the moment she walked in.
Oh, darling, Im so glad youre here. After that accident, I thought Id lose my mind
Mum, not tonight, I said gently. Only happy thoughts. We agreed, remember?
Soon, colleagues from Dads companywhere Anthony and I both workedfriends, and relatives filled the room. I greeted everyone with a smile, but I watched my husband from the corner of my eye. He kept his distance, sipping whiskyuncharacteristic for him, since he rarely drank, even at parties.
Eleanor Whitmore, our head accountant, approached with a strained smile. She paled slightly when I turned to face her. Probably remembering how shed visited me in the hospitalwired to machines, doctors uncertain if Id wake up.
Charlotte, you look radiant, she said. Especially after everything youve been through!
Thank you, I replied. You look lovely too.
Something in her gaze felt off, but I brushed it aside. Tonight wasnt the time to dwell.
The evening unfolded with toasts, music, and dancing. To an outsider, it wouldve seemed perfect. But I felt the tension thickening.
Anthony lingered at the edges, occasionally speaking to colleagues but mostly avoiding the crowd. Every now and then, his eyes flicked toward Eleanor, who pretended not to notice.
I approached him with a smile. Care to dance? It *is* our night.
Not now, he dismissed me. Ive got a headache.
Youve been acting strange all evening.
Im just tired. Crowds arent my thingyou know that. Stop overanalyzing.
***
The emceea young man in a sharp suitkept the energy high. I watched the room, hiding my nerves. Only I knew how special this night would be. I just had to wait.
Anthony remained distant, exchanging tense glances with Eleanor. Each one sent a pang through me, but I kept smiling, accepting congratulations.
Charlotte, were so relieved you recovered! gushed the wife of Dads deputy. That accident was horrifying.
Yes, a dark time, her friend chimed in. But thank goodness its over!
I nodded politely, though my mind drifted back to the hospitalhazy memories, fragmented voices, footsteps in my room
Darling, everythings perfect! Mum squeezed my shoulders. And you look stunning tonight!
Thanks, Mum.
She hesitated. But Anthony seems tense. Is everything alright?
Fine, I assured her. He just doesnt like crowds.
Dad joined us, wrapping an arm around Mum. Whats all the whispering?
Girl talk, I deflected.
He hugged me tightly. Im so proud of you. 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 opening notes of *our* songthe one wed danced to at our weddingfilled the room. I hurried to Anthony.
Dance with me? Like we did two years ago?
He flinched. Charlotte, I said no. Are you trying to provoke me?
Why would I? I searched his eyes. Whats really going on?
Nothing! Just back off!
His harshness stunned me. Then I noticed Eleanor slipping outfollowed by Anthony. I waited a beat before trailing them.
They stood in the empty hallway, whispering fiercely. They froze when they saw me.
Whats happening? I asked calmly.
Nothing, Eleanor said quickly. Just work talk.
At our anniversary?
Charlotte, enough! Anthony snapped.
*Enough?* Youve been acting bizarre all night!
We returned to the party. Dad was mid-toast. Eleanor avoided my gaze, her hands trembling as she lifted her wineglass.
Talk to me, I pressed Anthony. Whats going on?
I said *leave it*!
The music cut out. In the sudden silence, his words rang like a gunshot:
Ive been sick of you since our wedding night! You disgust me! Get away from me!
***
The words hit like a slap. The room spun. For a heartbeat, everyone frozeshocked guests, a pale Eleanor, Anthonys venomous glare.
Then I exhaled. *This* was the moment Dad and I had waited for.
Strangely, instead of pain, I felt relieflike a weight lifting. A faint smirk touched my lips as I gave the emcee the signal.
The lights dimmed. The projector screen flickered to life.
Black-and-white footage of a hospital room. Me, unconscious, tangled in wires. The timestamp: three months ago.
Dad had shown me this video after Id come home. I had to monitor your care, hed said grimly.
On-screen, the door creaked open. Two figures slipped inAnthony and Eleanor.
Quiet, she whispered. What if she wakes up?
She wont, Anthony muttered, almost pleased. The doctors said shes done for.
The room was dead silent. Guests stared, horrified. Anthonys knuckles whitened on his chair.
On-screen, he grabbed Eleanor and kissed herhungrily, right beside my hospital bed.
Everythings falling into place, he murmured between kisses. We just have to wait.
But what if she survives? Eleanor pulled back.
She wont. Ive planned this perfectly.
More footage played: their secret meetings by my bedside, their laughter, their confidence theyd get away with it.
I paused on the most damning shotthem embracing as my heart monitor beeped faintly in the background.
***
Mum shattered the silence first. My God How *could* you?!
She lunged, but Dad held her back.
Eleanor bolted for the exitonly to find security blocking her way.
Anthony straightened, trembling. Charlotte, youve got this all wrong
Wrong? I stepped closer, the room hanging on every word. You planned my death. You kissed her while I fought for my life.
Dads lawyer was already dialling. Guests recorded on their phones.
Anthony spat, You set me up!
Like you set up our marriage? I smiled coldly. Like you sabotaged my car?
He paled. Eleanor gasped.
No proof? I said softly. The police will decide that tomorrow.
They fled. The room erupted.
***
Three months later, the case was closedinsufficient evidence, the detective said.
But the fallout was real.
Dad fired them both. His connections ensured no reputable firm would hire them.
Anthony begged for mercy. We can talk this out
I shut the door in his face.
Eleanor vanishedrumour said she fled to Manchester. Anthony lingered, jobless, until he disappeared too.
At home, Dad hugged me. Truth matters more than vengeance.
Mum poured tea. We sat togetherjust us three, like before.
The divorce papers arrived. Anthony pleaded for discretion. I wanted it final, official.
And yesterday, for the first time in forever, I smiled at my reflectionnot with pain, but hope.
Some wounds never fully heal, but the scars remind us: not all battles leave us broken. Sometimes,
