After My First Love Died I Became A Mortician

What should I do if I disturb him?

While they were moaning in ecstasy, I silently packed my things in advance. The two of them were so engrossed in each other that they didn’t hear a thing. 

The two of them were so engrossed in each other that they didn’t hear a thing. 

It took half an hour before their panting subsided and the room fell quiet again. I set down what I was holding and strained my ears to listen.

The first one to talk was Carol. Her sweet coquettish voice was a bit hoarse when she talked, "Jeremy, when are you going to divorce Amy Callahan?"

There was a brief silence in the room before Jeremy's teasing and doting voice sounded, 

“What’s the rush? You just come back and now you want me to have a divorce?"

"I've been waiting for you for three years!" she snapped. "It's your turn to wait."

It seemed Carol was not satisfied with his answer, before long, the room filled with the sound of their intimacy once again.

As I stood there in silence while waiting for their sordid acts to stop, a bitter resolution took root in my heart.

Baby, it’s your father who let you down.

Carol's breathless gasps echoed again. She was using her body to push Jeremy to the limit,

"Jeremy, who feels better? Me or your wife?"

Jeremy did not answer immediately but Carol did not let it go and kept asking. Finally, I heard Jeremy's usually composed tinged with tenderness as if he was praising Aphrodite, "Carol, you have the most beautiful one."

Then with his usual voice he said, "Amy reeks. Maybe because she has been spending so much time in a place like that."

Carol seemed satisfied with his answer and the two of them resumed their sexual intercourse.

I just stood there, frozen in disbelief while wishing that someone would jump out and stab them to death.

Jeremy had never said those things before. When he was pursuing me, he praised my aloof demeanor. He even called me unique because I was different from the superficial people in his circle.

When his mother frowned at my profession, he defended me and called my work a “courageous and compassionate occupation.”

I had wanted to correct him back then and told him that my workplace was cold and sterile. However, his eloquent speech left no room for anyone else to interject. 

Now, he’d finally revealed his true colors.

A wave of nausea rolled over me and my stomach clenched painfully. I barely made it to the bathroom before I vomited some bile.

It seemed my husband and his mistress were alerted by the sound because there was a of flurry movement from the room.

By the time I emerged from the bathroom, they had already dressed properly.

I didn’t spare them a glance. Without a word, I headed for the door.

Just then, Jeremy’s agent called me. His voice was frantic as he explained that paparazzi had caught Jeremy and Carol together and the photos were already trending online. He couldn’t reach Jeremy and asked if I knew where he was.

I kept my voice calm. “He’s home right now,” I said and hung up.

I looked directly at Jeremy's uneasy expression and Carol's smug, triumphant look and said, "I want a divorce."

I left Jeremy's house so quickly that I did not take anything with me, including him.

To make it easier to retrieve my belongings later, I booked a nearby hotel. When the time was right, I would get my things.

When I opened my phone to call a taxi, I saw a news alert.

[The movie star Jeremy Holt has been secretly married for three years and the woman is a mortician who worked at a funeral parlor.]

The comments section went into a frenzy.

“A big star married someone who handles dead bodies? Did she save his life or something?”

“A mortuary worker? Is that even a job for a normal woman?”

“If I were Jeremy Holt, I couldn’t stand my wife being around dead people all the time.”

“Yeah, hurry up and divorce her so he can be with Carol.”

Don’t worry. The divorce was already in motion.

I suppressed my rising anger and headed back to the house to collect my things. Fortunately, neither the fingerprint lock nor the passcode had been changed.

"Jeremy! You're back! Ah … it's you."

Carol, wearing Jeremy's shirt that exposed her white thighs, stared at me with a malicious smile.

She twirled a lock of her hair around her finger and sneered. “What are you doing here? Jeremy doesn’t want you anymore.”