My husband forced me to bake a pie every day, Then he would change something and make me eat it. One day, I handed the slice back and told him to take a bite… He refused, and I froze in fear

one to eat the pie.

The following week, I began feeling weak. Sometimes I became dizzy. I felt nauseous in the mornings, and my vision

occasionally went dark while I was at work. When I told Victor, he seemed strangely relieved.

“That was expected,” he whispered.

“What was expected?”

“I told you not to worry.”

That was the first time I became genuinely afraid of him.

I remembered that Victor’s first wife had died several months before we met. He almost never spoke about her. He had only

told me that she had been ill for a long time. But what if her illness hadn’t been natural?

The thought terrified me. The more I tried to push it away, the more suspicious everything seemed. Victor’s secretive

personality. His first wife’s death.

The way he sent me out of the kitchen. The changing taste of my food. And most importantly, the fact that he never touched

the pie himself.

It even seemed romantic at the time.

A few minutes later, he called me back. A single slice of pie was waiting on the table. Victor sat across from me and watched

until I had eaten every bite.

The same thing happened the next day. And the day after that. I baked the entire pie, but as soon as it came out of the oven,

Victor always sent me out of the kitchen. When I returned, he would place a slice in front of me and carefully watch me eat it.

He never ate any himself. At first, I didn’t think much of it. But after a few days, I noticed that my slice sometimes tasted

different. One day, it was more bitter than usual. Another day, it had a strange metallic taste.

“Are you adding something to it?” I asked.

Victor froze for a moment.

“No.”

His answer came far too quickly.