My Husband Regrets My Son’s Death

I stood at the door, and my hands trembled as one clutched the death certificate. The other’s fingers’ almost tore through my skin.

Matthew, you wanted to repay your comrade, but you did it using my son’s life.

I did not push open the door to confront Matthew. Instead, I went back to the hospital on my own. Henry had always been scared of the dark, and I could not bear for him to stay alone in the cold morgue.

The following day, while I was on my way to the crematorium, I received tons of calls and messages from Matthew. I ignored them all. I held my son’s urn close to me and started contacting both friends and family to tell them about Henry’s death.

That took me an entire day.

Once I got back to our rental house, I found my husband sitting in his chair. His expensive suit had been replaced with cheap clothes. The moment he saw me, he jumped forward to hold my hand.

“Why weren’t you home yesterday? You even turned off your phone! I didn’t even eat; I rushed back home immediately after work, you know?” he admonished me gently while looking at me attentively.

I looked back at him and simply found the entire thing hilarious. He could be called a great actor, but I could smell expensive perfume on him, and it was pungent in this dilapidated rental house.

“I kept Henry company,” I said calmly before turning to our room.

Of course, Matthew understood that I was unhappy, so he wrapped his arms around my waist and comforted me softly. “Don’t be mad, Wendy. I’ve been busy with work trips lately. I know that I’ve neglected both you and Henry, but I’m working hard to give you two a better life, aren’t I?”

I raised my head in sheer stubbornness and forced myself not to cry.

Work hard?

By “working hard,” he meant throwing a party for his dead comrade’s son.

That perfume wafted into my nose, and I found disgust crawling all over my skin, so I struggled to get out of here. However, Matthew refused to let go. Despite my resistance, he dragged me to bed and held me, as if doing this would show that he still loved me.

“Wendy, I’ll make it up to you and Henry in the future.”

Those words were like a sharp knife that pierced through the final barrier in my heart. In the end, I was still unable to stop my tears from falling.

Henry was already dead. How could he possibly make it up to him?

With all my strength, I shoved him away. “Sleep. I’m not in the mood.”

When Matthew saw how uncooperative I was, he got angry and left to make a call. I watched him leave while lying back in bed limply. Heavy tears slid down my cheeks as I stared at the peeling ceiling, yet I somehow found myself relaxing.

Over the past eighteen years, I had worked day and night and nearly bled myself dry for this family. For Matthew.

It was time to put an end to all of this.

On the day Henry was to be buried, Matthew came back to the rental house with clothes and toys.

“Wendy, get dressed. Let’s pick Henry up to go see some fireworks.”

Pick Henry up? We could not pick him up anymore.

I ignored the hickeys on his neck and just stared at the educational toys he had brought back. He must have forgotten that Henry had just turned eighteen and had even sat through his SATs. It had been a long time since he had needed such childish toys.

“Hurry up, now. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen Henry. He must miss me!”

Henry urged me to hurry up and move while anguish filled my heart. He actually knew that Henry missed him?

“Sure. Let’s go see him.”

I sent the South Hill Cemetery’s address to Matthew.

When we got closer to that place, funeral songs began playing around us, and Matthew started sounding impatient.

“What is Henry doing in these suburbs? There are funerals being held everywhere. That’s so ominous.”

I sat in the front passenger’s seat quietly. I was quite curious as to how he would react upon seeing Henry’s memorial photo in the mourning hall.