Sheila hated her husband ever since she accidentally stumbled on him screwing the neighbor. Instead of throwing a huge( and justifiable) fit in a smoldering rage, she went kelvin degrees cool and started to plan. She decided he had to die, cool and calculating. She was a chemist, so she had a good grasp of what kind of poison would be undetectable to the average observer. She prepared a batch, bought a bottle of wine to cover up the taste, put it on ice at home and started to cook.
When her husband had got home later that evening, she had a full romantic dinner prepared by candlelight. She was dressed in a full evening gown. Her husband was clearly surprised and yet he seemed prepared, as he was carrying a dozen full stemmed carnations, her favorite flower. He passed them from his gloved hands to her.
"They're beautiful," she squealed softly, in spite of herself. She deeply inhaled the sweet rosey smell as she took them from him.
"You deserve them. Consider it a thank you for the wonderful meal tonight and for all the light you bring into my life." he smiled broadly as he said this.
"This is so sweet," she said. Although she melted a little bit at the gesture, inside her resolve was still iron. "Why don't we toast to the occasion?"
"That sounds wonderful," he replied. He went to the table and poured two flutes of the champagne and handed her one.
"A toast then, to our everlasting love," he proclaimed.
"To our everlasting love," she repeated, with a hint of menace. They clinked glasses and he took a deep swig as she watched him. She pretended to drink and threw the drink to the floor. They sat down to eat the soup course.
She was feeling very lightheaded all of a sudden and realized she hadn't eaten today and with a relish dug into the soup. After only a couple of minutes, the eating got very strained as they both got more and more sluggish and had a hard time lifting the spoons to their mouths.
"What's......happening?" he slurred slightly as he spoke, since he was evidently having trouble getting his lips to work.
She felt very heavy and tired as well, but wanted to play her cards. This was her moment, after all.
"I poisoned the wine, you cheating fuck. I saw you with the neighbor last night. I decided to get even instead of getting mad. Terminally even." She started to laugh, but found it incredibly difficult. She had a trail of drool pooling into her soup from the side of her mouth that she scarcely noticed. "I just need a nap, or something, and I'll call your death in the police..what are you laughing at?"
Despite an imminent lack of motor control, her husband was guffawing loudly, spittle getting everywhere.
"I know, I saw you," he managed to get out between the laughter. "That's why I decided I had to get rid of you, before you took me for half of everything. Looks like you wanted all of me. I poisoned the carnations. You'll be dead soon, too. So don't plan a long life without me."
He kept trying to laugh, but all that came out was a strained 'haha' between heavy rattling breaths. Her eyes had grown as wide as they could (about half lidded now) and tried to stand up but only succeeded in falling to the ground and dragging her soup with her. he laughed hard enough to knock himself down as well.
"You filthy bastard. At least I know I'll live long enough to see you dead!" And she started cackling as much as she could. And that's how they both died, with seconds of each other, laughter growing weaker and weaker until it was altogether gone.
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When the bodies were finally found and the police were brought in, they weren't able to make heads or tails of the situation, labeled the whole thing a bizarre lovers' suicide pact and promptly closed the case. As they had no kids, the money that was left over after all the expenses was used to purchase a simple plot for them to share, side by side. The marker was simple stone. It had their names, when they lived, and a simple phrase: "To their everlasting love."
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