My Useless Scumbag Husband

I was burning with fever when Andrew called, asking me to pick up Matthew from the train station. "Something urgent came up," he says.

Something urgent? My heart pounded, part fear, part anger. What could be more urgent than our son?

But I didn't argue. I'm already so used to it, so... what for? No choice, I hurried to the station.

When I got there, my fevered brain raced with worries. There were flashing lights of police cars and ambulances near the station, so how could I not panic?

Heart pounding, I searched for my son until I saw him, lying so still on the ground.

"Matthew!" I screamed, clutching his bloody body.

My poor baby, gone in a heartbeat.

Just then, my phone buzzed. Claire, Andrew's first love, posted a picture of them, smiling— happy.

How dare they?

Shaking, I screencapped it and sent it to my shameless husband. [Is this why you left Matthew by himself?]

I messaged, but the jerk didn't reply. Jackass!

Days passed, and I had Matthew's body cremated.

I held his burial alone. Why? Because my stupid husband was still probably in his mistress' bed.

Sure enough, the jerk texted: [Matthew's not a baby anymore, Emily. He can manage himself. Claire needs me.]

[Let's divorce then.] I sent back, unregretful. Cheers to closing thirty horrible years of my life!

Andrew used to be my world. We grew up together, went to school together. Everyone knew I followed him like a shadow. I supported him in everything, even when he was with Claire.

When did I start loving him? Maybe it was always there.

You know, a slow burn that turned into a fierce flame. After Claire left, I confessed, and long story short, we married, had Matthew, and for a while, I thought it was enough.

But I was wrong. Turns out I am just the second-best: someone conveniently close around but never someone he wants to have around.

Still, maybe it was my fault. I should've fled right away back then, but this dumb person chose to be even more dumber.

That was then, though. I've learned my lesson. Sadly, I had to learn it in the most tragic way.

I knelt at my son's grave, tears long dried. I only entrusted him with his father once, and look at what happened. I couldn't even imagine how lonely and scared Matthew must have been when he died.

He was so young, and he deserved so much more.

When I stood up, I was determined to move forward.

Then I saw them, Andrew and Claire, approaching. Claire held an urn in her hand, her face haggard.

What show is this now?

Surprisingly, Andrew's expression was nothing but pity and tenderness. I wanted to laugh, 'cause seriously. Since when did this jerk have a heart?

But, well. I almost forgot. It's Claire, and only Claire can bring out decency in him.

“Babe, this cemetery is so nice! It's so full of flowers! Milo should like it, right?” I heard Claire say, her voice soft, almost fragile.

Milo... Wasn't that her dog?

Andrew's face twisted in distress. He was about to speak, but he saw me, and his eyes dimmed. It was as if I would forever be an annoyance to him, a fly buzzing in his perfect little world.

“Emily, you’re never going to stop, are you? First, you talk about divorce, and now you’re following me here. Don't you have anything better to do?”

Not gonna lie, his words made my blood boil.

Did he really think I had time to follow him around and watch him fawn over that woman and her damn dog?

Andrew walked up, frowning with displeasure. Will I give him attention? Of course not.

“Get lost,” I said coldly, each word a blade.

This man had cost me everything, so what's there left to say?