How to Bury a Family

I slowly shifted my gaze away from their intertwined fingers—Sarah's and Benjamin's—and shook my head calmly.

"No need."

My composure startled all three of them.

Amy barked a harsh laugh. "What's this new act, Daniel? You spent years begging Sarah to marry you, and now you're playing hard to get?" She smirked, tossing her hair. "Let's be clear - even with that marriage license, you're not fit to polish Sarah's boots."

Amy said this with a smirk, clearly expecting it to cut. But I didn't react. My face remained a blank slate, cold and distant.

That only made Sarah angrier. She frowned, her delicate features tightening as she raised her voice at me.

"Daniel, it was bad enough that you followed me here, disrupted my work, and now you're sulking like a child? My patience has its limits. Benjamin needs peace and quiet to recover. Your presence is stressing him. I want you gone. Now."

As she said this, she grabbed my wrist, trying to drag me away by force.

But in the next second, the earth trembled.

The aftershock hit without warning. Both women lunged toward Benjamin, who stood exposed in the clearing. Sarah shoved past me, using my body for leverage—whether intentionally or not.

She must have seen it then: the cracked utility pole teetering behind me. It fell with crushing force, pinning my left leg beneath it.

White-hot pain swallowed my consciousness whole.

…

When I came to, I was lying in a hospital bed. My left leg was in a cast.

There was no one at my bedside.

A doctor came in to check the IV and remove the needle. He seemed genuinely relieved to see me awake.

"You're lucky," he said, brow furrowed. "Another inch and your leg would've been beyond saving. You need complete rest. No stress, no nonsense."

I stared up at the ceiling. "Thank you. Could you help me schedule a vasectomy reversal?"

Later, a nurse wheeled me out of the room. That was when I learned it was the village chief who had brought me to the hospital.

As for Sarah—she had only sent me a single text message: [Benjamin fainted when he saw your injured leg. I've taken him back to Lavnoc City for treatment."

She and Amy had immediately applied for emergency helicopter transport and left that same night with Benjamin.

As for my injury?

They didn't care in the slightest.

The realization settled like shrapnel in my chest - not sharp, but heavy, making each breath an effort.

My vasectomy reversal procedure was scheduled for three hours later.

I spent my remaining time finalizing divorce papers with my lawyer. As I closed my laptop, the family group chat exploded with notifications.

Dad, Amy, and Sarah had all sent Benjamin birthday tributes.

Staring out the window, I watched a bird dart clumsily across the sky. My lips curled into something that might've been a smile. Or maybe it was just irony.

So they all remembered Benjamin's birthday.

My father transferred him five thousand dollars with a message: [Happy birthday, Benjamin!]

Amy transferred him ten thousand dollars with a message: [To the best brother in the world!]

Sarah posted a screenshot of a bank transfer of fifty thousand dollars. Her message read: [No matter what the future holds, my heart belongs only to you, Benjamin.]

I exited the chat without a word.

Not a minute later, Sarah called.

Her voice was sharp, tinged with mockery. "Daniel, what tantrum are you throwing this time? You just can't stand that we care about Benjamin, can you? In high school, you accused him and his mother of being responsible for your mom's death. Your father told me the truth—your mom was depressed.

"And that 'troubled teen facility' story? I did my own research. That establishment never existed. Amy told me you lured her to an abandoned building and caused her to hit her head and lose her memory. Benjamin was the one who spent an entire month nursing her back to health!"

Sarah's words came rushing out, a torrent of pent-up resentment finally breaking through.

"Let's be honest," she spat, "I never wanted this marriage. The only reason I went through with signing those papers was because Benjamin pitied you—he was worried you might hurt yourself. If not for him, I would never have stepped foot in that hotel room or touched that spiked drink—"

I let her speak, offering no interruption.

The hospital intercom suddenly blared: "Patient zero-three-seven, Daniel Foster. Report to surgical prep for vasectomy reversal."

Sarah's tirade cut off abruptly. I heard her sharp intake of breath.

"You're actually doing this?" Her voice held something unfamiliar—perhaps shock, perhaps the barest hint of humanity.

Before I could respond, Benjamin's mocking tone came through the line: "Sarah, darling, don't be naive. Daniel was sterile to begin with. This is just another one of his pathetic attention grabs."

Sarah's tone chilled instantly.

"Of course. Why did I expect anything different from you? It's unbelievable that you and Amy share blood. You're utterly shameless. You went to such disgusting lengths just to marry me, and now you're trying to undo it all? Well, guess what? I'm done with your games. One more stunt like this, and I'll be the one filing for divorce."

The silence that followed was heavy with her expectation—she was waiting, hoping even, for me to break, to plead with her.

Instead, I let the quiet stretch. Then came a slow exhale, the release of something that had weighed on me for far too long.

"Fine," I said. "Let's meet at the courthouse the day after tomorrow."

And with that, I ended the call, turned around, and walked into the operating room.