Staring at the wedding photos of Evelyn and Christopher, Charlotte’s jealousy burned like an uncontrollable flame. Those pictures should have been hers. Christopher should have been hers. The thought of them walking down the aisle together, holding hands, kissing, sharing a bed—it was unbearable.
Sitting on her sofa, Charlotte clenched her fists tightly. This wedding cannot happen.
Something had to be done.
***
An hour later, Charlotte appeared at Evelyn’s house with a glass of water in her hand.
Evelyn was reading a book, her body curled up quietly on the bed. Her slender fingers gently turned the pages, her gaze calm and serene.
“Here,” Charlotte said, her voice trembling as she held out the glass. “Drink some water.”
Evelyn glanced up at her, her eyes drifting to the glass. She noticed the slight tremor in Charlotte’s hand, the pale hue of her face, the nervous waver in her tone. It didn’t take much for Evelyn to realize there was something wrong with the water.
But instead of calling her out, Evelyn asked softly, “You’re having surgery tomorrow, right? Are you nervous?”