After 144 hours with his mistress, my husband finally remembered his pregnant wife. The trembling aide told him: 'sir, your wife bled out and lst the son you abandoned. She already signed the divorce papers and walked away!'

Two weeks later, the sky above Elmwood Cemetery was grey, dripping with a quiet, persistent rain.

I stood beside a small, white marble headstone resting beneath an ancient oak tree, holding an umbrella over my mother and myself. The small inscription read simply:

DANIEL VANCE VALE AN ANGEL IN THE ARMS OF GOD OCTOBER 14, 2026

The funeral service had been small, private, attended only by my mother, Marcus, and Maya.

As my mother walked toward the waiting car with Marcus, I remained behind, standing before the tiny mound of green earth, resting a bouquet of fresh white lilies beside the stone.

Footsteps squelched through the wet grass behind me.

I didn't need to turn around to know who it was. The heavy, ragged breathing was unmistakable.

Julian walked into the frame of the rain, wearing a soaked black coat, no umbrella, his hair plastered against his forehead. He had lost weight over the last fourteen days; his suit hung loosely on his shoulders, and his face was gaunt, hollowed out by grief.

He stopped ten feet away, afraid to step closer.

"Evelyn..." he whispered, his voice trembling so hard he could barely pronounce my name. "Please... just let me lay flowers for him."

I looked down at the lilies, then turned slowly to face him.

"You don't belong here, Julian," I said quietly, my voice calm, steady, and entirely free of hatred.

"He was my son too, Evelyn!" Julian sobbed, falling onto his knees in the cold, wet mud right there in the grass, his hands clutching at the ground. "Please... I am dying every single day... I can't sleep, I can't eat, I see his eyes every time I close mine!"

"You didn't want him when he was fighting for his life," I said, staring down at him without a single tear in my eyes. "You wanted wine, luxury, and silence. You wanted to believe that your choices had no consequences."

Julian crawled forward on his knees through the mud, stopping three feet away, looking up at me with raw, pathetic desperation.

"I love you, Evelyn," he wept, reaching out a muddy hand toward the hem of my coat. "I made a terrible, unforgivable mistake... but I love you! I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you! I don't care about the company! I don't care about the money! I just want my wife back!"

I looked down at his outstretched, trembling hand.