Happy anniversary Daisy

Daisy’s POV

It’s our third year anniversary and I couldn’t wait to surprise him, I had spent the entire afternoon trying to look beautiful for him I had gotten the navy silk dress in size 3XL which was three times bigger than the mannequin display, and I received looks for it, even the sales person looked at me weirdly, that’s what I get for being a plus sized lady.

But my excitement died down when I walked into our home and I could see clothes scattered all over the floor trailing the stairs all the way to my master bedroom. My breath hitched and my heart beating so loudly I could hear it myself, I heard the sounds moaning, “yes Seth just like that”.

No! He wouldn’t, she wouldn’t.

I know that voice I can recognize it even in my sleep Beth my step sister with shaky hands I slowly open the door and the sight before me shattered me, my husband thrusting and fucking non other than my step sister on our matrimonial bed on our anniversary.

I saw Beth’s dark hair first. It was spread across my pillow, the one with the pale ivory pillowcase I had ironed that morning. Her head was thrown back, mouth was open in a moan. Seth was above her, bare-backed, hips driving forward in the same deep rhythm he had once used with me. The wet sound of their bodies filled the room the sheets I had chosen were twisted around their legs.

For a moment my mind simply refused to understand.

Then Beth’s eyes opened and locked on mine.

There was no panic in them. Only a flash of surprise that quickly melted into something brighter and uglier satisfaction. She did not push him off, she did not scramble for the sheet. She watched me while my husband continued to thrust inside her, and the corner of her mouth curved like she had been waiting for this exact audience.

Seth must have felt the change in her because he looked over his shoulder. The color drained from his face so fast I thought he might be sick. He still didn’t pull out right away.

“Daisy,” he said, voice rough. “It’s not…this isn’t…”

The bakery box slipped from my fingers. Lemon tarts spilled across the hardwood in a soft, ridiculous mess. The sweet scent rose up between us like a joke.

I heard my own voice, thin and strange. “Get off her.”

Beth laughed. The sound was bright and cruel. “God, look at your face. You really had no idea, did you?”

Seth finally moved, pulling out of her and reaching for the sheet as if modesty mattered now. “Beth, shut up. Daisy, baby, listen to me…”

“Eight months,” Beth said, sitting up without bothering to cover her breasts. “He’s been fucking me for eight months. While you were cooking his dinners and smiling at his horrible mother and pretending you were enough.”

Eight months.

The words hit harder than any slap. Eight months of late nights he blamed on work, eight months of me warming plates and telling myself not to be the nagging fat wife. Eight months of swallowing the lipstick marks, the distant eyes, the way his hands had stopped lingering on my waist.

I had made myself so small for him. I had given up the strategy job offers, the analytics career I had actually been good at, every piece of the future that belonged only to me. I had let his family treat me like unpaid help I had smiled when they joked about my appetite and my size. I had believed him every single time he promised it would get better.

And he had been busy fucking my stepsister for eight months I felt my heart crack and hot tears streamed down my face.

Something hot and black tore loose in my chest.

I moved without deciding to my hands found Beth’s hair and yanked. She shrieked, clawing at my arms. Seth cursed and grabbed me from behind, hauling me backward. My hip slammed into the dresser. Pain shot down my leg, but it was distant compared to the roaring in my ears.

“Stop it!” Seth shouted. “You’re hysterical!”

“Hysterical?” My voice cracked into something raw. “You’re fucking my stepsister in our bed on our anniversary and I’m hysterical?”

Beth scrambled off the bed, yanking the sheet around herself. Her eyes were bright with malice and excitement.

“He never loved you, Daisy. He settled I mean look at you and Look at me. It was always going to end like this.”

I lunged for her again. Seth’s arms locked around my waist like iron. He was still half-naked, still smelling of sex and Beth’s perfume, and he was manhandling me toward the hallway as if I were the problem that needed to be removed.

“Enough,” he snarled against my ear. “You’re embarrassing yourself.”

We struggled at the top of the long marble staircase. The same stairs I had cleaned on my hands and knees because his mother said the housekeeper never got the corners right. My heel caught the edge of the runner. I twisted, trying to wrench free, trying to hit him, trying to make him feel even a fraction of the pain splitting me open.

Seth’s hands tightened on my upper arms.

Then he shoved.

It was not a push to create space.

It was not an accident.

It was the full, furious force of a man who wanted the screaming inconvenience gone.

The world tilted violently. My shoulder hit the first step with a sickening crack. Then my hip then the back of my head. Pain detonated in white-hot bursts. I rolled, over and over, unable to stop, the chandelier above the foyer spinning like a blurred star. Somewhere far away Beth was screaming and Seth was shouting my name in a voice that already sounded like performance.

I hit the marble floor of the foyer on my back. The impact drove the last of the air from my lungs. Warm wetness spread beneath my skull in a widening pool. My legs would not move, I couldn’t feel my arms. Every breath was a shallow, wet rattle.

Seth’s face appeared above me, pale and stunned for a moment I saw real fear in his eyes. Then something else calculating began to settle over it, the same look he wore when a business deal started going wrong and he needed to rewrite the narrative.

Beth hovered behind him, the sheet clutched to her chest, her earlier triumph cracking into panic now that blood was pooling on the expensive floor.

I tried to speak. I wanted to tell him I hated him. I wanted to tell Beth she would never be free of what she had done I wanted to say that I had loved him so completely I had destroyed myself for the privilege, and this was how he repaid it.

Only a choked, bloody sound came out.

The edges of the room darkened. The chandelier blurred. Cold began to creep in from my fingers and toes, moving inward like a tide.

Three years of devotion.

Three years of making myself the fat girl who stayed, the fat girl who forgave, the fat girl nobody had ever truly chosen only kept because she was useful and quiet and grateful.

And this was the end.

Seth’s hand touched my cheek, already trembling with the story he would tell. Beth’s voice floated somewhere above me, thin and frightened. The darkness pressed closer, heavy and absolute.

I did not want to die.

I wanted them to suffer.

I wanted to live long enough to make them regret every second.

But the dark did not care what I wanted.

It simply took me.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​