On our wedding anniversary, my husband put something in my glass, I decided to replace it with his sisters glass

I began gathering: receipts, call logs, texts. I didn’t confront. I collected.

He clung to the illusion of normalcy. Dinners. Jokes. But I was assembling the truth.

Then, I found it. A message from an unknown sender. His words:
“Everything ends after the anniversary.”

That night, we sat by the fire. He offered a toast again:
“To us.”

I replied, eyes steady:
“To us.”

A knock echoed down the hall. I opened the door to two officers.

“Citizen Orlov,” one said, “you’re under arrest for attempted murder.”

His eyes searched mine. “You set me up?”

I shook my head. “You did that yourself. I just didn’t let it happen.”

🕰️ Two Months Later

He remained in detention, trial pending. Evidence spoke louder than lawyers. The mask he wore had crumbled.

Then came the call.

“He wants to see you. Says he’ll only talk to you.”

I went. Not for closure. For truth.

In that room, he leaned forward. “It wasn’t meant for you,” he said. “It was her. My sister. She was blackmailing me.”

“You’re lying,” I whispered.

“Check her phone.”

I did. On her tablet, buried beneath games and recipes, were messages. Voice memos. Calls with someone named M.O.

One message:
“If she doesn’t leave on her own, we’ll arrange an accident.”

The floor shifted beneath me. She hadn’t been innocent. She’d been orchestrating behind the curtain.

Betrayal had come from both ends of the table.

But I survived it.

And now, I knew exactly what I was surviving.