My Husband Fell For Her Lies, Now He Regrets

I cooked dinner. I’ve been the one doing all the cooking lately… carefully, cautiously, ever since what Dana did to my sauce. I had to be extra vigilant. I cleaned everything twice over, made sure the ingredients were organic, triple-checked every expiry date. I wasn’t taking any chances.

Daniel didn’t come home early, so I dished out the food for Dana and me. Of course, I still fed her. She’s my sister, after all, or at least that’s what everyone keeps reminding me and she’s pregnant with my husband’s child.

Dana stared at her plate like it was suspicious. She didn’t touch a bite. Just watched mine with hawk eyes. I didn’t let it bother me, I focused on eating my food, doing my best to stay composed.

But I woke up later that night with searing stomach pain, my body convulsing with each wave of nausea. I vomited until I was on the floor, cold, sweating, and my vision blurred. My limbs felt heavy, my body weak, like I was fading.

I dragged myself into the kitchen. Dana was there, seated like a queen with a glass of wine in her hand, her nails freshly painted, her face smug. She smirked at me like she’d been waiting for this moment.

She didn’t touch her food. Of course she didn’t.

“No need to look at me like that,” Dana said coolly. “You really think I’d waste good poison on you?”

I held my stomach, trying to steady myself. “You did something to the food. Don’t lie to me.”

She raised her glass. “Cheers to paranoia. Makes the poison taste even worse, doesn’t it?”

My lips trembled. “You poisoned me? Dana, that’s cruel. That’s beyond…”

The front door creaked open. Daniel walked in, looking worn out from work.

Perfect timing. Dana immediately shifted into performance mode, collapsing dramatically into his arms like she was the victim… Again.

“What’s going on now?” Daniel asked, glancing between us, clearly exhausted.

Before I could speak, Dana cut in with a practiced whimper. “Cynthia’s accusing me again. She said I poisoned her food. Just because her stomach’s upset, she blames me.”

I stared at her, dumbfounded. She didn’t even hesitate. The lies poured out like water from a broken faucet.

Daniel looked at me with disappointment etched into every feature. I rolled my eyes, too tired to explain myself for the hundredth time.

Then Dana dropped the real bomb.

“She said… she hopes I lose the baby.”

I froze, my chest tightened. “What?”

She sniffled, eyes big and shimmering. “She hates my baby.”

Daniel’s hand tightened around hers. He didn’t say a word to me, he just looked at me like I was something filthy. Then he turned and left the room with her in tow.

That’s my husband. Or, he used to be.

Maybe if I’d given him a child, he’d treat me differently. Maybe then, I’d still matter.

He touches her stomach like it holds salvation. But to me, it’s just the living proof of betrayal. And he acts like it’s a miracle.

Later that night, I took something for my stomach and finally passed out. But the next morning, I woke up to something worse.

Chunks of my hair were scattered on the floor.

For a moment, I panicked. Was I sick? Was it stress? Cancer? But deep down, I knew it wasn’t that.

Then I heard Dana. She cleared her throat behind me. I turned to find her standing in the doorway, holding scissors in one hand and strands of my hair in the other.

“Oops,” she said sweetly, dropping the hair into my lap. “Next time, don’t sleep with your door unlocked. People might get the wrong idea. Might think you’re asking for bad things to happen.”

I sat there, mute. I had been growing my hair since my wedding. It was the one thing that still made me feel beautiful. And now it was gone.

Dana leaned in, her perfume sickeningly sweet.

“It’s just hair, Cyn. Don’t cry. You’ve lost worse… your dignity, your husband, your family’s respect…”

She smiled. “Need me to keep going?”

My throat closed up. I couldn’t even respond.

Daniel walked in then, just as I was about to break down. Dana jumped into action again, pretending to comfort me, then twisted it, as always.

“I’m sorry, Cynthia. You must feel so alone,” she said, her voice dripping with fake sympathy. “But maybe it’s time you take some responsibility. This isn’t Daniel’s fault. It’s not my fault either. You’re the one who’s made this mess.”

Then she turned to him with a concerned expression, like she cared.

“She cut her own hair, Dan. Out of anger, she’s not okay. Just let her be.”

She won’t say it outright, but she makes it clear every chance she gets… her pregnancy, Dan’s future, all of it, is my fault.

She took everything from me. And now she wants me to thank her for it.