Leaving Behind My Heartless Husband

“Ma’am, there’s a man waiting outside,” a maid said as I was finishing my makeup. I gave a nod and stepped out in my black dress.

Daniel drove us to the private cemetery, where the burial ceremony was brief and solemn. It was just a small gathering—Daniel, a few close maids who had cared for Lily, and me.

Their quiet sobs filled the air, but I felt empty. I had cried enough over the past few days; my tears had run dry.

After a few minutes, they left me alone with Lily’s grave. Daniel gave my shoulder a reassuring pat before heading back to the car.

I crouched beside the tombstone, my fingers brushing the fresh soil. I didn’t say anything; my heart was set on making sure Lily received the justice she deserved.

When I got home, I was completely drained. I found myself staring blankly at the living room where I used to teach Lily her alphabets, the garden where I watched her play, and, worst of all, her bedroom where I used to tuck her in and read her stories before bed.

Her things were scattered everywhere, a constant reminder of the little girl I’d lost. The memories seemed to close in on me from every corner, overwhelming me.

Feeling lightheaded, I reached out for the wall to steady myself. I called out for help, and a few maids hurried over.

“Ma’am, sit down. Someone, get her some water!” one of them said, her voice tinged with panic.

I pressed my temples and managed to say, “No, take me to my room. And please, get all of Lily’s things and put them in the attic. Everything. I can’t stand to see them right now.”

They paused for a moment, glancing at each other before agreeing and guiding me to my room. As we made our way, I heard a commotion downstairs and froze when I saw the last people I wanted to deal with right now: Michael and Allison. I rolled my eyes and steeled myself for what was coming.

Michael was helping Allison to the sofa, her arm around him for support. Both of them looked a bit disheveled, still in beach attire, which meant they had just arrived.

When they saw me, Michael’s gaze shifted away, and Allison looked momentarily caught off guard.

“Emma, I’m so sorry,” Allison began, her voice wobbly. “I fell and scraped my knee while we were out. Michael said—” She trailed off, looking to Michael for reassurance.

“Don’t make a scene, Emma,” Michael snapped, focusing on Allison’s injury and barking orders at the maids. It was as if I wasn’t even there.

“Don’t make a scene?” I pushed back, my voice tight. “You said you had work to do. Why are you with her?”

Michael sighed and just stared at me, clearly annoyed.

“Answer me, Michael!” I demanded, my teeth clenched.

“Come on, Emma,” he said dismissively. “I promised Allison first. We can always take Lily later. Why are you making such a big deal out of this?”

I felt my fingers clench into fists, the pain almost a relief from the anger boiling inside me. I was done with him treating us like we were nothing.

“You promised, Michael! You promised Lily!” I shouted, my voice cracking with frustration. Michael looked startled by my outburst. I had kept my composure through all his failings, but now, enough was enough.

“Why are you being so dramatic?” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

“This is why I hate talking to you. You make me feel trapped in my own life. I’ll make it up to you, I promise. I’m sure Lily won’t mind,” he added, pulling out the first aid kit and starting to look for bandages and alcohol.

His nonchalant attitude was infuriating. It felt as if he was minimizing our grief and treating our suffering as a minor inconvenience, and I was done playing along with his twisted sense of priorities.

I let out a bitter chuckle. “You can’t make it up, Michael. Lily is dead.”

His eyes widened in disbelief, and anger flashed across his face. “I can’t believe you’d go this far, faking your own daughter’s death to make me feel guilty. What kind of mother are you? Watch your mouth!” he snapped, his voice rising.

I felt a surge of frustration, like I was trying to reason with a brick wall.

Before I could respond, Allison cut in with a disingenuous tone. “Listen, I know I shouldn’t have asked Michael to come with me, but you don’t need to fake something as serious as your daughter’s death. It could be a bad omen. What if something terrible happens later?”

Her innocent act was infuriating. This was the same Allison who had once been my close friend. She had deceived me before, crying and claiming there was nothing between her and Michael when I confronted her years ago.

But over time, it became clear she had been lying. Our friendship had shattered, and she had continued to play the victim, telling people I was the villain who had cut her off without a chance to explain. I had let it go because I wanted peace with Lily.

But now, she was accusing me of lying about Lily’s death and trying to dismiss it as a mere ploy.

My anger boiled over. Trembling with rage, I slapped her hard, the sound of the impact echoing through the living room.