The night before SAT scores were released, Arlington City was hammered by a torrential downpour, putting my son in dire straits at school.

Desperate, I pleaded with Jason to drive me to the school to pick him up.

But just as we were about to head out, he got a call from his producer that yanked him away.

Battling the storm alone, I went to fetch my son, only to be met with his dead body.

In a frenzy, I kept dialing Jason's number.

A flirty female voice answered, "Who's this, calling at such an ungodly hour?"

Then I overheard Jason in the background, "Rory, the bath's ready! Hop in!"

It turned out his ex, that very producer he dashed off to see, was the one he was with.

I swallowed my grief and managed my son's funeral arrangements alone.

***

Two weeks later, I returned home.

Jason greeted me with a sneer, "That was quick. Thought you'd stick to your guns longer."

I avoided his gaze, "Let's call it quits, Jason."

Our knot was more a merger than a marriage, planned since our childhood by our well-connected families.

Gifted and handsome, Jason was the golden boy from day one.

We attended the same schools from elementary through college graduation.

I witnessed his fiery romance with Rory Underwood unfold.

And I watched him unravel when she left him at the height of their love affair, turning to booze to numb the pain.

I'd always been in his shadow, and on my twentieth birthday, he finally noticed me and agreed to tie the knot.

Although part of me suspected he was just trying to spite Rory, I dived headfirst into marriage.

As his wife, I tiptoed around him, too scared to ever be a burden.

From small tasks like changing light bulbs to major emergencies like calling an ambulance after a car accident and my water broke, I never once imposed on him.

As an A-list actor with our marriage under wraps, I adhered strictly to the sidelines, careful not to tarnish his image or reputation.

Yet, after two decades together, this was the first time I'd ever begged him for anything—and he coldly turned his back on me.

Twenty years believing my love could warm his heart.

But I was tragically mistaken.

The allure of his moonlight is not something easily shaken off.

The blame is mine alone.

If not for my foolish hopes, our son might still be with us.

He must have felt so abandoned in his final moments, likely resenting me deeply.

"You're asking for a divorce, Rachel? Who are you performing for? There's nobody else here."

"Even if we split, you won't be getting custody of Charlie."

I had just laid our son Charlie to rest.

His name alone was enough to reopen my wounds, tears streaming down my face.

Perhaps my sobbing moved him slightly.

His tone softened a bit, and he reached out, trying to wipe away my tears.

"Cut the drama, will you? I've already found a doctor abroad who can treat him."

I stepped back, dodging his hand, which hovered awkwardly in the air.

He scowled at me, apparently frustrated by my lack of gratitude for his rare attempt at conciliation.

He thought I'd be thrilled and grateful.

But facing him now, I couldn't muster a shred of affection.

I fetched our marriage license and my ID from the room and walked back out.

"Let's end it today."

His face darkened at the sight of the documents in my hand.

"What's this about, Rachel? You vanish without a word for half a month, then come back demanding a divorce?"

I met his gaze, my eyes burning with tears.

"Jason, when have I ever been a bother to you?"

"Never."

He didn't hesitate.

He knew how compliant I had been, always tailing him, acquiescing to his every whim.

I never let my personal life or work disrupt his.

"But this one time, the only time."

"Were you actually meeting that producer?"

His expression shifted, guilty, as he turned away.

"Rachel, are you doubting me? Don't you trust me?"

I chuckled bitterly, tears welling in my eyes; he still thought I was clueless.

Still denying it.

"Liar."

Jason bristled, "What's the point in all this, Rachel? When have I ever lied to you?"

He never bothered to lie before.

Softly, I said, "Once, you promised to always look after me and Charlie."

That was his vow as I nearly died from childbirth.

But he never lived up to it, probably had forgotten he even made that promise.

Right then, his phone rang, and he took the call, missing my words entirely.

I watched him hurry off on the phone, leaving me there, completely overlooked.

No sooner had he left than I received a call from the cemetery.

"Mrs. Wright, the cemetery's new owner has demanded your son's plot be relocated immediately. Please come quickly."

Chilled to the bone, I raced over.

The cemetery staff greeted me with apologetic faces.

"Our apologies for the late notice, Mrs. Wright. There was an oversight, and your son's grave has already been excavated."

"Where's the owner now?"

I followed them to the grave site.

My son's headstone was shattered, his urn toppled and lying in the dirt.

The sight left me in shock.

And there was Rory, tearfully clutching the urn, her grief palpable.

A staff member explained, "She was brought here by the owner..."

I stormed up and slapped her twice, hard.

I was ready to strike again but was restrained by the staff.

They murmured urgently, "Mrs. Wright, please, she's too influential to confront..."

Rory stood frozen, dazed from the slaps.

Suddenly, Jason appeared and pushed me to the ground.

"Rachel, what are you doing here causing a scene?"

Rory, sobbing in his arms, pleaded, "Rachel, you've got it all wrong. There's nothing going on between me and Jason. We're here mourning Long-Life, picking a spot for him."

"Long-Life" was the turtle Jason had once gifted her, which I had helped him choose.

When they were together, he asked for a gift idea that symbolized eternal love.

Bitterly, I suggested, "A millennium turtle might last as long as your love."

He actually followed through, giving her a turtle from a local sanctuary pond.

I scoffed at the absurdity.

He'd unearthed his own son's grave over a turtle.

Was their romance worth more than his own son's life?

Our son, lost in his own world, adored superheroes like Ultraman, though he felt too old to admit it.

In homage to his passion, his tombstone read "Child of Light," and even his urn was custom-designed with Ultraman themes.

Now, it was all ruined.

Fury shaking me, I turned and slapped Jason.

"Jason! You're no better than a monster!"

The staff intervened quickly, "Mrs. Wright, let's not dwell on what's happened. We can discuss relocating or compensation."

Jason flushed with anger, facing me, "Rachel, did you purchase this plot?"

One of them answered for me, "Yes, Mr. Wright, she's the owner you instructed us to contact."

He scowled, icily accusing, "Rachel, what's your angle? Hoping for our son to die?"

"So you could escape with some secret lover?"

The previously sympathetic staff now looked at me with revulsion.

Outraged, I retorted, "Jason, not everyone stoops as low as you!"

As I lunged to slap him again, Rory stepped in and took the blow.

"Rory!" Jason exclaimed, his face etched with concern.

His eyes seethed with fury as if I were a nemesis, not his wife.

"Rachel, resorting to violence? Is this the dignity your family taught you? I regret ever marrying you!"

His words cut deep, like a dagger to my heart.

With a hollow laugh, I shot back, "Isn't that just perfect?"

Something about that struck a chord with Jason.

He looked at me, bewildered for a few seconds, as if he couldn't believe what I'd just said.

He scoffed twice, "Well, well," and then addressed Rory, "Since it's our plot and we don't need it right now, it's all yours. Don't worry about compensation."

Watching him nonchalantly hand over our son's resting place, I snapped, "Jason, you're the worst!"

Overwhelmed, I scrambled to piece together the broken headstone and gently wiped the urn clean with my sleeve.

Rory, wiping tears, said, "If Rachel doesn't need this grave, I'll take it. Thank you, Rachel."

My eyes blazing, I warned her, "Stay away, or I swear I'll slap you again."

Rory flinched, covering her face as she stepped back.

"Jason, I was just talking nicely to Rachel, but she's terrifying. I'm scared she'll hit me again, and I have an event tomorrow—my face..."

Jason looked at the marks on her face with such tenderness.

"Rachel, look at the mess you've made! Don't think you can do whatever you want just because I'm here. Apologize to Rory now!"

Apologize?

Really?

Why should I apologize to someone who desecrated my son's grave?

Does she deserve that?

"Impossible! She should be the one kneeling and apologizing to me!"

Jason glared at me, "Rachel, you're way out of line. Resorting to violence over jealousy?"

"The one who should be kneeling is you!"

I snorted, "Dream on!"

His words used to be my command.

Now, my defiance only fuels his rage.

Jason, teeth clenched, declared, "So, you're going to be that stubborn, huh?"

At his signal, his bodyguards pushed me down in front of Rory.

In the struggle, the urn slipped from my grasp and shattered.

Ashes spread across the moist earth.

They got drenched and tainted.

"No... not this..."

Powerless, I watched as my despair became complete.

Tears streamed down uncontrollably, and my body drained of all strength.

The bodyguards' grip was unyielding.

Forced to kneel, my face was pressed into the dirty ground, mingling with Charlie's ashes.

I could feel his ashes against my cheek, but not his warmth.

"I hate you... Jason, I truly hate you..."

I spat the words out, filled with loathing.

Jason's expression tightened briefly.

A fleeting look of pain crossed his eyes—perhaps it was just my tear-blurred vision.

He quickly looked away, his attention back on Rory with a pitying glance.

Clearly, I was wrong; any sympathy wasn't meant for me.

"Rory, does that make you feel better?"

Rory's voice trembled, "But he slapped me twice, Jason... it really hurts..."

Jason's gaze was icy as he looked back at me.

"Give her back what she gave you. I've got your back; she won't dare retaliate."

The absurdity of it all.

My husband openly supported another woman right in front of me.

Rory stood up and struck me hard, twice.

The force knocked me back, my head crashing against the gravestone, blood beginning to flow.

But my focus was elsewhere; I was gathering Charlie's ashes from the ground.

Jason rushed over, grabbing me, "Rachel, have you completely lost it? You're hurt; we need to get you to a hospital."

I glanced at the ashes under his feet, my mind going numb.

Pushing him away with all my might, I shouted, "Get away! Just get away!"

"Charlie, my Charlie... you're tainted..."

Blood from my wound mingled with the ashes, and I broke down, sobbing uncontrollably.

Wracked with guilt and remorse.

"It's all my fault... all of it..."

Jason, exasperated by my rejection, snapped, "Rachel, have you lost your fucking mind?"

"Stop acting like every grave is your son's! I told you, I've found a doctor who can cure Charlie. He just arrived today from overseas. Let's go to the hospital."

He tried to help me up.

But he was interrupted by a call from his assistant, pulling his hand away.

"Is Dr. Mike Josh here?"

"Yes, but... Mr. Wright, I found out your son died thirteen days ago. Mrs. Wright signed the death certificate herself."

"And it turns out your son is buried in our North Star Cemetery, under your name."