My husband didn’t know what I was going to do next, so he skipped our daughter’s burial to take a trip with his mistress.
Our daughter died when she was five years old. I couldn’t believe she was gone from us when I stood in front of her grave on the day of her funeral. I clutched her favorite stuffed animal to my chest and held it in my arms.
Everyone in attendance thought the same thing throughout the ceremony, which was held under a dismal sky: “She didn’t deserve this end.” Family members, friends, and even Emily’s teachers had come to bid them farewell. And my hubby was the only one not there.
He had initially taken a short business trip, but he called to inform me that he needed to remain an additional week due to a crucial professional opportunity. He did not even show up for the funeral of our daughter.
I made another attempt to contact him on the morning of the funeral, emailing him all the information about the event. However, he sent back a chilly message: “I am unable to attend. A crucial meeting. Later, I’ll give you a call. No apologies, no consoling words. A simple, impersonal cancelation.
Then I discovered that he wasn’t actually on a business trip. He and his mistress were on vacation. Is that even possible?
Even the death of our daughter didn’t appear to have an impact on him. He seemed to be enjoying his vacation, but he had no idea what I was going to do next.
A week later, he returned.
He entered carefree, carrying a fresh teddy bear that still had its tag and a bouquet of white lilies, the ones Emily adored.
“I apologize,” he said. “It became complicated. The sessions went longer than anticipated. I was unable to depart.
I silently gazed at him.
No tears or screams came out of my eyes. I just said, “I understand.”
He appeared relieved that I had pardoned him.
However, I took a file from the drawer and set it down on the table.
Screenshots of his chats, hotel reservations, and a video of him kissing his lover at the hotel on the day of Emily’s burial were all included.
They had already signed the divorce papers.
Everything was gone from him. The same way I held our daughter’s urn in my arms that day.
