Throughout the entire evening, my mother-in-law behaved strangely. She barely left our table, constantly hovering nearby with some flimsy excuse: she needed to straighten the napkins, or check whether the glasses were aligned, or simply “happened” to walk past. I tried to ignore it, but her constant presence felt more and more unsettling.
Every time I looked up, she instantly averted her eyes. At one point, I went to dance with my husband, but when I returned, I saw her standing by our glasses, jerking suddenly as if startled. She pretended to be examining the flowers, but her hands were trembling.
Later, when the guests were distracted by the cake, I saw her again — standing with her back to everyone, leaning over my glass. She looked around nervously, clutching a tiny bottle nearly hidden in her hand.
And in one quick moment, convinced no one was watching, she poured its contents into my champagne. Slowly, carefully, as if adding the final drops of poison in one of those detective stories she loves so much.
A cold wave washed over me. I froze and watched as she quickly tucked the small bottle into her tiny handbag and returned to the guests, pretending everything was fine. She assumed I would come back, pick up the glass, and drink it. That everything would go quietly and unnoticed.
But the moment she turned away, I swiftly switched the glasses.
The one with the suspicious residue at the bottom I placed closer to her plate, and I took the completely clear one for myself.
A few minutes later, my mother-in-law raised the glass for a toast. She smiled broadly, certain she had finally accomplished what she wanted.
I smiled too — but for a very different reason.
And when she took her first sip, something unexpected happened
She turned pale, swayed, and tried to grab the chair, but her arms buckled. The glass slipped from her hand and shattered on the floor. The guests gasped. My husband rushed to her:
— Mom?! What’s happening? Are you okay?
And I stood nearby with an icy calm, revealing the truth for the first time:
— Looks like someone wasn’t supposed to drink that glass.
Later, at the hospital, I learned the rest.
A few days earlier, my mother-in-law had overheard our conversation and discovered that we were expecting a baby.
And instead of joy, she chose to “save” us — and herself — from the “shame.” She feared gossip, judgment, whispers… and she was willing to do something horrible because of it.
But in the end, she hurt only herself.