**Coming Home from the Birthday Dinner: Memories of a Perfect Evening**
Emily returned home with her husband from the restaurant where theyd celebrated his birthday. It had been a lovely eveningfull of family, friends, and colleagues, many of whom shed never met before. But if William had invited them, well, who was she to argue?
Emily wasnt one to pick fights over her husbands decisions. She hated drama, loathed confrontation, and found it far easier to just agree with William than to prove a point.
“Em, can you find your keys? Are they buried in that abyss of a handbag?”
She rummaged through her bag, fingers brushing against loose receipts and forgotten lipsticks, when**ouch!**a sharp pain shot through her hand. She yelped, dropping the bag onto the hallway floor.
“What on earth was that?” William frowned.
“Something stabbed me!”
“Probably a rogue pen. That bags a disaster zonewhat did you expect?”
Emily didnt argue. She scooped up her bag, fished out the keys, and stepped inside, already forgetting the sting in her finger. Exhausted, her feet ached, and all she wanted was a hot shower and bed.
The next morning, she woke to a throbbing pain in her hand. Her finger was red, swollenthen she remembered. She grabbed her bag and carefully emptied it onto the table. At the bottom lay a **rusty old needle.**
“What the?”
She had no idea how it got there. Shrugging, she tossed it in the bin, cleaned the wound, and headed to work. But by lunchtime, she was burning up.
She called William.
“Darling, I feel awful. Fever, headache, my whole body hurts. AndI found a rusty needle in my bag. I mustve pricked myself last night.”
“Em, you need a doctor. That could be seriousblood poisoning, tetanus.”
“Dont fuss. I cleaned it. Ill be fine.”
But she wasnt. Hour by hour, she felt worse. By the end of the day, she could barely stand. She called a taxi, collapsed onto the sofa at home, and fell into a feverish sleep.
And she dreamed.
Her grandmother**Margaret**stood before her. Emily had never known her wellshed passed when Emily was littlebut she *knew* it was her. A tiny, hunched figure who mightve frightened anyone else, but Emily felt only warmth.
Margaret led her through a field, pointing out herbs.
“Make a brew,” she whispered. “Drink it. Itll purge the sickness inside you. Someones cursed you, child. But to fight back, you must stay alive. Times running out.”
Emily jolted awake, drenched in sweat. Shed barely slept ten minutes.
Then the front door clicked. William was home.
He took one look at her and paled.
“Love, look at yourself.”
She staggered to the mirror. The reflection staring back was **unrecognisable**hair matted, skin grey, eyes hollow.
“Whats happening to me?”
Then she remembered the dream.
“I saw Gran. She told me what to do”
“Emily, were going to the hospital.”
“No! She said doctors cant help!”
The row that followed was their **first real fight**shouting, tears, William even trying to drag her to the car. She yanked free, lost her balance, and crashed into the wall.
Furious, he stormed out.
Left alone, Emily texted her boss*”Caught a nasty bug. Need a few days.”*
William returned near midnight, apologetic. She only said:
“Take me to Grans village tomorrow.”
By morning, she looked like death warmed up. William pleaded:
“Em, this is madness. Lets go to A&E.”
But they drove to the countrysidea place she hadnt visited since her parents sold Margarets cottage. She dozed the whole way, waking only as they neared the village.
“There,” she croaked.
She stumbled from the car, collapsing onto the grassbut she **knew** this was the field from her dream. She found the herbs, gathered them, and they drove home.
William brewed the remedy. She sipped it slowly, each mouthful easing the ache in her bones.
Later, in the bathroom, she saw her urine was **black.** But instead of fear, she smiled.
*”The darkness is leaving…”*
That night, Margaret visited her dreams again.
*”The curse was cast through the needle. My remedy will heal youbut not for long. You must find who did this and return their evil to them. I dont know whobut William is involved. If you hadnt thrown the needle away, I couldve seen more. But theres another way…”*
She instructed Emily to buy new needles, chant an incantation over the largest one, and hide it in Williams briefcase.
*”Whoever cursed you will prick themselves. Then well know their name.”*
Emily woke, weak but determined.
William, guilt-ridden, stayed home to care for her. He was baffled when she insisted on going out alone.
“Em, you can barely stand!”
“Make me some soup,” she said lightly. *”Im starving after this bug.”*
She followed Margarets instructions. That evening, the enchanted needle sat in Williams briefcase.
As they settled into bed, he asked:
“Sure you dont need me to stay?”
“Ill manage.”
The next day, she waited by the door when he returned.
“How was work?”
“Fine. Why?”
She thought the plan had faileduntil he added:
“Oh, Eva from accounting tried helping me grab my keys. Reached into my briefcase and**bloody hell!**got stabbed by a needle. No idea how it got there. She glared at me like Id planned it.”
*Eva.*
The puzzle snapped into place.
“Was she at your birthday dinner?”
William shrugged. “Yes. Just a colleague.”
That night, Margaret confirmed it: Eva had used magic to remove a rival. If Emily didnt act, shed try again.
Emily followed the counter-curse. Soon after, William mentioned Eva had fallen **terribly** illdoctors were stumped.
The following weekend, Emily visited Margarets grave for the first time in years. She cleared the weeds, placed fresh flowers, and sat on the bench.
“Gran, Im sorry I never came before. If it werent for you, Id be gone.”
A gentle breeze brushed her shouldersalmost like a hug.
Emily smiled.
Shed be back.
