When Grief Replaced Love

Eight years into marriage, and Fabian's mom finally gave me and my son her stamp of approval. Invited us to spend Christmas in his hometown.

My son—Luca--and I were hyped. We picked out a gift for her and hit the road with Fabian.

Right as we pulled into the village, Fabian's old friend called—crying, claiming she'd crashed her car.

Fabian panicked. Left me and Luca in some random snowy mountain town and sped off.

It was pitch black. Snow dumping down.

Then Luca screamed. He'd stepped on a trap and dropped into a pit. Blood everywhere.

I called Fabian, totally panicked.

He goes, "Stella, Roxana's in a wreck. I need to be with her. Stop making everything a competition."

Then he hung up. Blocked me.

No time to fall apart. I wiped my face, called an ambulance.

Too far out. By the time they got there, Luca was already gone. Cold. Broken. Gone.

I held him and screamed until my lungs gave out.

Meanwhile, Roxana's posting in the social media. All smiles in Fabian's arms. His face soft. Loving.

[Highway jam turned into truth or dare. One word—"accident"—and he came flying. So happy.]

I exhaled. Tagged Fabian.

[Let's get a divorce.]

This joke of a marriage should've ended forever ago.

Right after I hit post, Fabian called.

"Stella, seriously? Roxana posts one thing and you're already screaming divorce? What's everyone in the group chat gonna think of her? Take it back and apologize."

I was holding Luca's body while he went off.

Tears hit again.

"All you care about is her. Do you even get that Luca died while you were with Roxana? If you'd just come back, maybe he—"

Beep. Beep. Beep.

He hung up.

Then two texts popped up.

[Your lies never end.]

[If you won't apologize to Roxana, then take Luca and leave. My family doesn't want you here.]

Even through the screen, he felt ice cold.

How did I waste all those years just because he once said he loved me?

I wiped my face. Couldn't even argue anymore. Just typed:

[Luca's gone. We're at St. Mary's in Valea. Come. Once the funeral's over, we're done.]

Didn't send. Red exclamation mark.

Tried calling. Blocked.

"Wow, Fabian. You really went all in."

Luca's last words kept echoing—'Daddy, it hurts.' Felt like getting stabbed straight through.

I took him home. Planned the funeral alone.

Fabian never showed. I couldn't reach him.

But Roxana's Insta? Very alive.

Christmas Eve, she and Fabian were decorating a tree. Smiling, stringing lights.

His mom, Adriana, commented: [That's the daughter-in-law I've always wanted. So capable and festive. Not like someone who just sulks and ruins the holiday spirit.]

She'd hated me from day one. Spent eight years trying to get Fabian to dump me.

Christmas Day, Roxana showed up at Fabian's family dinner.

His relatives started teasing them about wedding plans.

Fabian didn't say a word—just kept carving roast for her.

He never did that for me. Never did it for Luca.

The next day was Luca's funeral.

Roxana posted a video. She was riding on Fabian's shoulders, laughing in a crowd.

Caption: [He wouldn't let his son ride on his shoulders, but look at me now.]

Fabian never came to the funeral.

I stumbled home, holding Luca's urn like I was sleepwalking.

Kept hearing someone whisper "Mom." Every time I looked back—nothing.

Luca, I wish you could come back and visit me. I'd trade my life for yours.

I couldn't breathe, couldn't think. I was gonna lose it if I didn't do something.

So I trashed everything that belonged to Fabian. Then I called HR and fired Roxana.

A few minutes later, Fabian stormed in, face dark.

I clutched Luca's urn, eyes burning.

"If I'd known firing her would drag you back, I'd have done it sooner. Maybe then you would've shown up for your son's funeral. This—" I held the urn tighter. "This is all that's left of him. You still wanna see him?"