My Wife Skipped a Funeral for His Birthday

After I signed the paperwork and gave my consent, they immediately arranged for the cremation.

After my parents divorced, Dad never remarried. My grandparents were very old, so I didn't want to upset them with such devastating news.

While waiting, I suddenly received a screenshot that a coworker had forwarded. Warren had posted on Instagram again, showing off two three-day tickets to a theme park.

I tapped into the search function and saw that his page was completely blank. He had blocked me.

A new message popped up on my screen, and it read, "Julian, did you know Ms. Lavigne is away with Warren on a trip?"

My grip on the phone tightened.

The sender wasn't concerned about me at all. They were simply provoking me on Warren's behalf.

I had long since grown used to such taunts. All it took was a single remark from Warren, and someone would step forward to test the waters for him.

I put away my phone and took the urn with Dad's ashes in it. Then, I went to the courthouse to submit the divorce paperwork.

Cara had signed the divorce agreement last month. When I handed it to her, she hadn't hesitated at all. With a few swift strokes, she signed her name.

Watching her hurriedly scrawl it on top of the line, I couldn't help but remind her, "Aren't you going to take a look at its contents first before signing?"

She had set down her pen, handed the agreement back to me, and replied with a hint of impatience. "No need. I trust you."

Then again, she used to be an extremely meticulous person. No matter how thoroughly I prepared something, she would personally review it again.

Warren, however, was the exception. She never verified any of the documents he submitted.

I had expressed my dissatisfaction before, but she had answered in a tone that left no room for argument. "These documents are complicated. It's better if I double-check them myself to avoid mistakes."

"What about Warren?" I had asked.

She had laughed lightly and replied, "He's my assistant. Naturally, I trust his work."

For a while, I thought she had changed. It wasn't until I saw her skillfully prepare three project plans for Warren that I understood—she didn't actually trust me.

She simply had something she deemed more important at that time than reviewing the agreement.

Since the divorce application had been submitted a month ago, the waiting period had already been fulfilled.

After verifying the documents, the staff member handed me a form. "Where's the wife? The divorce won't take effect until she signs it."

After thinking for a moment, I pulled up Cara's flight information and explained, "She's taken her new lover on a vacation."

The staff member froze for a second, and a trace of sympathy appeared in her eyes. "We have regulations. Even if the spouse can't be present, we still need to confirm their intention to divorce by phone."

I nodded and called Cara.

After three calls, she finally answered at the very last second.

She blared, "Julian, how do you still have the nerve to call me? If you don't delete those comments, apologize to Warren, and stop causing trouble, then forget about claiming your father's body at the funeral home!"

This was her usual tactic whenever she was angry. Whenever I didn't cooperate as she wished, she resorted to threatening me.

Most of the time, it was because of Warren. As soon as he was unhappy, she automatically assumed I had done something to upset him. Without even asking for an explanation, she would demand that I apologize.

There had been one time when I fractured a bone and needed surgery. The doctor had said a family member had to sign the consent form. She had told me that if I didn't apologize, they could just amputate the limb and teach me a lesson.

Before I could even speak, the call was disconnected.

When I tried calling again, her phone was already powered off.

I gestured toward the phone. "That should be enough to confirm her intention to divorce, right?"

The staff member nodded, stamped the paperwork, archived it, and proceeded with the formalities.

I sat holding the urn for 20 minutes. Many people looked at me with sympathy, and I tightened my arms around the urn.

The next second, Cara unexpectedly called me on her own. "You're not at the office. Where are you?"

My gaze instinctively shifted toward the divorce counter.

Seeing that I remained silent, she didn't press the question. Clearly, she didn't truly care where I was.

She continued speaking on her own. "Go to Warren's place and feed his goldfish. While you're there, clean up the apartment for him."

Warren's hesitant voice came through the receiver before I could speak.

"Maybe we shouldn't trouble Julian. He's usually pretty busy. I can just hire a cleaning service to come over."