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791words2026-01-26 11:22

After my wife came back from undercover mission, it was as if she had become like a completely different person.
She was always staring outside the window, lost in thought, her eyes clouded with unspeakable sorrow.
She no longer built Legos with our son, forgot my birthday,

and even the most ordinary affection between husband and wife made her recoil.
I thought the undercover operation had left her with irreparable trauma
My heart ached for her.
That was, until the day our son got into a car accident because of her neglect.
In the pouring rain, I saw her rise onto her tiptoes and kiss a shy young man with restrained yet deep passion.
I was in a meeting when I got the call about our son's accident.

The words “pronounced dead at the scene” struck me like a lightning.
I felt my world ruined.
I drove like a madman to the funeral home and saw his broken little body lying on that cold slab.
The blue tracksuit I'd zipped him into that morning was now his shroud.

Everything was chaos around me.
People murmured condolences, others demanded answers.
The truck driver babbled, "He ran right out in front of me! It wasn't my fault!"
I collapsed to the floor, screaming in despair, "He never ran into traffic! Where was his mother? Where was Emma?"
"Mr. Evans, your son got off the bus alone. We saw no adult with him," the police officer told me, his voice heavy with pity.
I always took our son to his after-school programs. Only this once, he’d tentatively asked if Mom could take him.
Because ever since Emma came back from her year-long "business trip," she'd been distant towards us.
She was always distant, avoided my gaze, and stopped calling me nick name "Brian".
She often made excuses not to walk up with us.
If our son begged for her time, she grew flustered or annoyed.
I always told our boy that Mom loved him.
That day.
I saw them off, then went to my work.
I never thought that this one time would cost my son's life.
I called Emma over and over.
Nothing but voicemail.
My parents were far away, her mom was critically ill…
Faced with such a devastating loss, I had to bear it alone.
Finally, I signed the papers, and my son was reduced to a small urn of ashes.
Holding that urn, I wandered back to our neighborhood like a ghost— only to freeze at the sight of Emma.
She was standing in the downpour, kissing a young man with fierce tenderness.
He was tall—well over six feet—with a strong, athletic build.
When she kissed him, he didn’t pull away.
After a moment of surprise, he kissed her back, sure and steady.
They were so wrapped up in each other they didn’t see me standing there.
The image of my son's mangled body crashed against this scene, creating a grotesque, surreal nightmare.
I didn’t know whether to scream or collapse. I just stood there. Hollow.
I should have seen it coming.
Emma's work was always secretive and intense. When I knelt and proposed years ago, I knew I’d often have to keep things going alone.
For seven years, I worked days, spent nights caring for my sick mother-in-law in the hospital, handled everything for our new home.
To save every penny, I became that guy—the one who obsessed over coupons, compared unit prices for ten minutes, and always bought the day-old discounted bread..
I drew stares and muttered comments from other shoppers in the store. An older man once shook his head right at me and said, "Look at him pinching pennies. His wife probably left him for a reason."
All because I was buying the marked-down groceries
Bound by Emma's secrecy, I couldn't explain it. They got nastier, started rumors I had… problems.
Right when I felt helpless, Emma came back unexpectedly.
Those fierce eyes of hers locked onto those gossiping old women. "Were you all cicadas in a past life?" she snapped. "Chirp, chirp, chirp."
Then she beamed at me, "Baby!" kissed my cheek loudly, and hooked her arm through mine as we walked upstairs.
That time, she stayed for a good while.
We had our son, Max.
But before he turned one, she was called away again. I was on my own once more..
When Max got sick that first night, I took him to the ER. I stayed up three nights. When he finally got better, my constant absences got me fired.
Didn't want to burden Emma during her "critical work," so during those tough times, I even took whatever cash-in-hand work I could find.
But I never complained, never thought it was too much.