On our wedding anniversary, my husband put something in my glass…

On our wedding anniversary, my husband put something in my glass.

I decided to replace it with his sister’s glass.
On the evening of our wedding anniversary, my husband solemnly raised his glass.

I followed his example, but suddenly noticed: he had quietly poured something into my glass.

A cold, anxious premonition gripped my stomach. I didn’t want to risk it.
When everyone was distracted, I carefully swapped my glass for his sister’s, who was sitting next to me.
About ten minutes later, we clinked glasses and drank.

And almost immediately, she felt sick.

Screams, panic. My husband turned pale, as if he himself had almost fallen.
I sat and looked at him. My head was pounding: “What are you planning, darling?”
My sister was taken away in an ambulance. Everyone was in shock.

I tried to look calm, but inside I was shaking.

And when my husband went outside to make a call, I followed him.

Quietly, like a shadow.
– How did this happen? — he said excitedly. — No, she shouldn’t have drunk it… I definitely switched the glass!
My heart sank. So I wasn’t mistaken.

He really wanted to poison me.

All this was prepared for me.
Having quietly returned to the house, I took my place at the table again.

I tried to breathe evenly, to restrain my gaze.

There was only one question in my head: Why? For what? We lived together for years… I trusted him.

I loved him. I thought I loved him.
Later he came up to me.
– How are you feeling? – he asked with a forced smile.
– Good, – I answered and looked straight into his eyes. – And you?
He hesitated. His gaze flashed – and hid. He understood.
And I knew: from that moment on, everything would change. But the main thing is that I was alive. And the truth would definitely find a way out.
The next morning, I arrived at the hospital. His sister was lying in the ward – pale, weak, but conscious. The doctors said: “It was serious poisoning. She was lucky. If the dose had been a little higher …”
I nodded gratefully to fate. And to myself too.
On the way home, I made a decision – to play this game, but by my own rules.
At home, he met me as if nothing had happened:
– How is she? – he asked, pouring tea.
I smiled.
– Alive. And I remember that the glasses were positioned differently, I added, without looking away.
He froze. His fingers trembled.
– What do you mean by that?
– Nothing yet. Just an observation.
I got up from the table.
– And you think about what you’ll tell the police if I decide to talk to them.
That night he didn’t sleep. And neither did I. A war had begun in the house – cold, quiet, full of understatement and pretense. Every glance was like a blow, every conversation – like a test.
I began collecting evidence. Correspondence, pharmacy receipts, recordings of telephone conversations. I had time. He didn’t even guess that I was not a victim. I was a hunter.
A week passed. My husband became nervous. Unexpectedly for himself, he discovered in me the “ideal wife” – affectionate, understanding, agreeing to everything. Especially to his offer to go out of town – “to relax together.” I smiled, nodded, prepared a suitcase. But behind his back, I had already contacted a private detective.
I gave him everything I had collected: receipts from the pharmacy, a recording of the conversation, a screenshot of the correspondence from an unknown number, where my husband wrote:
“After the anniversary, everything will end.”
I played the role. I cooked dinners, listened to him, nodded. Until one evening.
We were sitting by the fireplace. He poured me wine again.
“To us,” he said, holding out a glass.
“To us,” I repeated and… did not touch the glass.
At that moment, there was a knock on the door. He flinched. I got up and opened it.
A policeman and a private detective were standing on the threshold.
“Citizen Orlov, you are under arrest on suspicion of attempted murder.”
He turned to me with an expression of horror on his face.
“You… You set me up, didn’t you?” he stammered, eyes wide, voice trembling as the officers held him by both arms.