My mind went silent at the sight of Peter slipping a drop of poison into Delia’s tea.

His eyes scorched the area around him, not catching sight of his damnation. I was too well hidden.

Do I dare stop him?

Would he hurt me?

Slowly, I moved from my spot, watching as Peter ascended the stairs to his love.

How could he? He proposed to Delia just two weeks ago.

On a quick step, I decided to go upstairs.

I entered Delia’s room. The smell of medicine stung my nose.

She’d been coughing up blood since last week…and now I know why.

“Oh, hello Marie,” she said weakly.

Peter looked over at me, his face was a bit pale and his hands were shaking.

He was nervous as he set the tea tray down.

“Peter was so kind to make tea. Would you like some—“

“I don’t think Marie would like this tea,” Peter interrupted.

I narrowed my eyes. “I like all tea. I thought I made that apparent with the cabinet filled with tea.”

He hesitated. “Well, I just think you won’t like this.”

Delia was catching on. She grasped Peter’s trembling hands. “Darling what’s wrong?”

He laughed nervously. “I’ve just been so stressed lately.”

He grabbed the tea cup, filled with Delia’s fate of death.

“Here,” he said handing it to her.

I intervened. “Delia, how about hot cocoa instead. You’ve been drinking the same tea for the whole week and it seems to be making your illness worse.”

Peter froze.

“You’re right.” She smiled.

“Besides,” I said, “I want you to live.”

The room became silent.

Peter grabbed my arm and pulled me into the hallway.

“What are you doing?” He whispered.

“Why? Why are you killing your fiancée?”

His eyes grew cold. “I need to escape this.”

“Not like this,” I said.

Peter realized too late as the sound of sirens rang outside.