Anna suspected that her husband was putting sleeping pills in her tea. That evening, she poured it out while he stepped away and pretended to fall asleep. But what happened next left her dumbfounded…

Clara listened without interrupting, her silence heavy with concern. When Anna finished, Clara spoke carefully, her voice steady but grave. Anna, I don’t wanna scare you, but your symptoms sound like they could be caused by sedatives or sleeping pills.

Some drugs, especially when taken regularly, can cause fatigue, memory issues, even disorientation. It’s not uncommon for them to be slipped into food or drink. They dissolve easily, leaving no trace.

Anna’s breath caught, her heart pounding. You think Hans could be drugging me? I don’t know, Clara said, her voice measured. But you need to find out.

Stop drinking the tea for a few days and monitor how you feel. Or better yet, make sure he thinks you’re drinking it. Pour it out when he’s not looking, switch cups, anything to test it.

And Anna, document everything. If something’s wrong, you’ll need evidence. Anna thanked Clara, her mind racing as she hung up.

The idea that Hans could betray her was a knife to the heart. Twisting with every heartbeat. But she couldn’t ignore the mounting evidence.

Her symptoms, his odd behavior, the tea. She resolved to uncover the truth, no matter how painful. That evening, when Hans prepared her tea with his usual flourish, Anna watched him like a hawk.

His movements were deliberate, almost theatrical. His kindness now tinged with an artificial sheen that made her skin crawl. Here, darling, he said, sliding the cup across the kitchen table, the porcelain clinking softly against the wood.

This will help you relax. You’ve had such a tough day. Anna accepted the cup, her fingers brushing against the warm ceramic, her senses on high alert.

The tea smelled of chamomile, but beneath it lingered a faint chemical undertone. Barely perceptible, but impossible to ignore. Clara’s warning about sedatives flashed in her mind.

How easily they could be dissolved in a drink, leaving no trace. Thank you, she said, forcing a smile that felt like a mask. I’ll sip it in a bit.

Hans settled across from her, his gaze oddly intense, as if waiting for her to drink. A cold sweat prickled her skin, her pulse hammering in her ears. This is it, she thought, her resolve hardening.

Rising from the table, she wandered to the living room window, cradling the cup as if savoring its warmth. The city lights twinkled below, a stark contrast to the darkness brewing within her home. Pretending to take a sip, she tipped the contents into a potted ficus on the sill, the liquid soaking silently into the soil, the plant’s leaves trembling slightly.

After another fake swallow, she returned the empty cup to the table, her movements deliberate to avoid suspicion. It tastes different tonight, she said, grimacing slightly to gauge his reaction. Maybe I’m just worn out.

Hans’s posture stiffened, his smile faltering for a fraction of a second before he recovered. Oh, perhaps I brewed it too long, he said, his voice a touch too casual. Could be, Anna said, stifling a yawn for effect.

I think I’ll head to bed early tonight. She stood, swaying slightly to sell the act, and shuffled toward the bedroom, her bare feet cold against the hardwood floor. Hans’s eyes followed her, a flicker of unease betraying his calm facade…