**”I’ve Been Sick of You Since Our Wedding Night! You Disgust Me! Leave Me Alone!”**
The words exploded from my husbands lips on our second wedding anniversary, slicing through the air like a blade.
Id spent weeks planning this evening, searching for the perfect venuesomewhere more than just elegant, somewhere unforgettable. In the end, I chose *The Golden Pheasant*, a new restaurant nestled in a historic London townhouse, its stained-glass windows catching the afternoon light.
Edward had frowned when I showed him the pictures.
*”Why the fuss? We couldve just gone somewhere quiet. Who needs all this pretentious nonsense?”*
But Id insisted. Sixty guests, live musicians, a toastmasterafter the car accident six months ago, I needed something *real*, something vibrant. Something to remind me I was still alive.
For weeks, Id overseen every detailthe floral arrangements, the menu, the evenings schedule. Maybe it was because this was the first grand celebration since Id left the hospital. Or maybe because, deep down, I wanted this night to be perfect in every way.
Adjusting the folds of my deep burgundy gown, I checked the time. Guests would arrive any minute. Edward stood by the window, his reflection tense in the glass.
*”Whats on your mind?”* I asked, stepping closer.
*”Nothing,”* he muttered with a shrug. *”Just hate these things. All this pointless performance. And for what?”*
I said nothing. Two years of marriage had taught me when to ignore his moods. Especially tonight*my* night.
The first to arrive were my parents. Dad, ever the gentleman in his tailored suit. Mum in a soft blush dress that lit up her face. She hugged me tightly the moment she stepped in.
*”Oh, my darling, Im so glad youre here. After the accident, I thought”*
*”Mum, not today,”* I whispered. *”We agreedonly happiness tonight.”*
Friends and colleagues followed. I greeted each with a smile, but my gaze kept flickering to Edward. He lingered at the edges, nursing a whiskeyuncharacteristic for a man who rarely drank.
Margaret, our head accountant, approached. Her smile faltered when she saw me. Probably remembering her hospital visits, the tubes, the beeping machines.
*”Charlotte, you look radiant,”* she said, voice strained. *”Especially after well, everything.”*
*”Thank you,”* I replied, ignoring the odd flicker in her eyes.
The evening unfoldedspeeches, laughter, dancing. To an outsider, it mightve seemed flawless. But tension coiled beneath the surface.
Edward kept his distance, exchanging glances with Margaret when he thought I wasnt looking.
*”Dance with me?”* I asked, touching his arm. *”Its our song.”*
He jerked away. *”Not now. My heads pounding.”*
*”Youve been acting strange all night.”*
*”Just tired,”* he snapped. *”Stop reading into things!”*
The toastmastera sharp young man in a navy suitkept the energy high. I watched, biding my time. Edwards gaze kept darting toward Margaret, his jaw tight. She, in turn, pretended not to notice.
*”Charlotte, were just thrilled youre alright,”* gushed one of Dads associates. *”That accident was horrid.”*
I nodded politely, my mind drifting back to the hospital. The fog of painkillers. Fragmented whispers. Footsteps in my room.
*”Sweetheart, everythings perfect,”* Mum murmured, squeezing my shoulder. *”Though Edward seems tense.”*
*”Hes fine,”* I lied.
The music swelledour wedding song. I approached Edward again.
*”Dance with me. Like we did two years ago.”*
He flinched. *”Charlotte, I said no! Are you trying to provoke me?”*
*”Why would I? Whats wrong?”*
*”Nothings wrong! Just leave me alone!”*
His voice cracked like a whip. The room stilled. And in that silence, his next words landed like a bomb.
***”Ive been sick of you since our wedding night! You disgust me! Get away from me!”***
For a heartbeat, the world froze. Guests stared. Margaret paled. Edwards face twisted in something ugly.
ThenslowlyI smiled.
The lights dimmed. The projector screen flickered to life.
Black-and-white footagea hospital room. Machines. Me, unconscious, tangled in wires. The date: three months ago.
Dad had shown me this recording weeks ago, his hands shaking.
On screen, the door creaked open. Two figures slipped insideEdward and Margaret.
*”Quiet,”* she hissed. *”What if she wakes up?”*
*”She wont,”* Edward replied, voice dripping with satisfaction. *”The doctors said she wont make it.”*
The room gasped.
They kissedhungry, desperateright beside my hospital bed.
*”Everythings falling into place,”* Edward murmured between breaths. *”Soon, well be free.”*
Margaret pulled back. *”But what if she lives?”*
*”She wont. Ive made sure of it.”*
More footage playedsecret meetings, hushed plans, laughter at my expense. Each clip another nail in their coffin.
I paused the video. The final image: Edward and Margaret entwined, my heart monitor pulsing weakly in the background.
Silence. Then
Mum screamed. *”How could you?!”*
Margaret bolted for the door. Securitypositioned discreetly by Dadblocked her path.
Edward whirled on me. *”Youyou set this up!”*
*”Yes,”* I said coolly. *”Just like you set up our marriage. Just like you rigged my car.”*
His face drained of colour.
*”Tomorrow,”* I continued, *”this footage goes to the police. Let them decide if it was an accident or attempted murder.”*
Margaret sobbed. Edward lungedthen stopped, seeing the guests horrified faces.
*”Youll regret this,”* he spat.
*”No,”* I whispered. *”You will.”*
He stormed out, Margaret scrambling behind him.
I raised my glass. *”Im sorry for the ruined evening. But the truth needed to come out.”*
—
Three months later, the police closed the case. *”Insufficient evidence,”* they said.
But Edward and Margaret had already lost everything. Dad had them fired within hours. No respectable firm in London would touch them.
Edward begged for mercy. *”Charlotte, we can talk”*
*”No,”* I said, shutting the door in his face.
Margaret vanishedrumour said she fled to Manchester. Edward lingered, jobless, until he too disappeared.
Dad hugged me tight the day the case closed. *”We know the truth. Thats enough.”*
Mum set the table, pouring my favourite tea. For the first time in months, I smiled.
The divorce hearing was next week. Edward had pleaded to settle privately. But I wanted it official. A clean break.
And yesterday, I caught my reflectionand saw something new.
Not pain. Not weariness.
*Hope.*
