My daughter and I were having lunch, as usual. I had made her favorite soup with homemade noodles and a chicken-and-corn salad. The kitchen was warm, it smelled of herbs, spices, and something cozy. We were chatting happily; she was telling me about her friends, about some girl from the yard who learned to do a handstand, and then suddenly she started talking about a cartoon she wanted to watch after lunch.
Everything was completely ordinary. I poured the soup, put the plates on the table, sat down across from her — and at that moment her face changed. The smile disappeared, her eyes widened, and her voice became sharp, unusually grown-up:
— Mom, don’t eat that soup.
I froze. The spoon was already halfway to my mouth.
— Why, sweetheart?
— I saw… — she lowered her voice, — how Dad added something to it this morning.
In that moment a wave of heat rushed through me. My hands began to tremble. I put the spoon down and tried to stay calm. Maybe she misunderstood something? Maybe he was just adding spices?
— Are you absolutely sure? — I whispered.
She nodded. And then I remembered the morning conversation with my husband 😨😲 Continuation in the first comment ⬇️ ⬇️
And I remembered: in the morning he really did say that he wanted to cook something himself. It seemed strange — he rarely went near the stove. And then there was that strange smell coming from the pot, like… medicinal?
I took the plates and, pretending not to notice anything, brought them to the sink. I told my daughter that I just wanted to reheat the soup. But I secretly took sterile jars from the pantry and, under the pretext of cleaning up, poured a little soup into them.
That same day I went to the laboratory. The next day — the results arrived.
The soup contained a sedative. A very strong one. In a dose high enough to knock an adult out for several hours.
And then the most terrifying part began. I pretended I didn’t know anything, but I went to the police. We arranged for surveillance.
A few days later my husband — the father of my daughter — brought a woman into the house. While he thought I was asleep, they discussed the plan: he wanted to send me to a “mental institution.”
It was his lover, and they were planning to take the property for themselves, hiding behind my supposed “inadequate behavior.”
When he was arrested, he didn’t even resist. Apparently, until the very last moment he thought I wouldn’t figure anything out.
He is now under investigation. And I still can’t understand — what would have happened if my daughter hadn’t noticed what happened that morning? Or, even worse, if she hadn’t told me anything…
Now every spoonful of soup, every cup of tea, I look at differently. And every day I thank my daughter — for her attentiveness, for her courage, for the fact that she saved my life.
