At the evening wedding anniversary, my husband solemnly raised his glass. I followed his example but suddenly noticed: he quietly slipped something into my glass. A cold, uneasy feeling clenched my stomach. I decided not to take any risks.
When everyone was distracted, I carefully swapped my glass with the glass of his sister sitting nearby.
About ten minutes later, we clinked glasses and drank. And almost immediately, she felt sick. Screams, panic. My husband went pale as if he himself was about to collapse.
I sat and stared at him. My mind hammered: “What have you planned, my love?”
They took his sister away in an ambulance. Everyone was in shock. I tried to look calm, but inside everything was trembling. And when my husband went outside to make a call, I followed him quietly, like a shadow.
“How did this happen?” he said anxiously. “No, she wasn’t supposed to drink… I definitely swapped the glasses!”
My heart froze. So I hadn’t been wrong. He really wanted to poison me. All this was prepared for me.
Quietly returning to the house, I took my place at the table again. I tried to breathe evenly, to hold back my gaze. Only one question echoed in my mind: Why? For what? We had lived together for years… I trusted him. Loved him. Or so I thought.
