My Husband Regrets My Son’s Death

Right after leaving the banquet hall, I received a notice from the hospital telling me that Henry had died.

My intelligent, mature son was only eighteen years old, and he was gone from the world forever. That realization made me cry so much that I almost fainted. Henry just wanted to lessen the financial burden of the family, but he had ended up with a cracked head and a torn-up stomach. He could not even die with a full body intact.

His final request had been to see his own father before dying, but that man was too busy throwing a celebration party for the son of a dead comrade.

I forced myself to stay conscious and went to see my son for the last time. Then, I sat by a river for a long time, until brilliant fireworks lit up the night sky. I instinctively took out my phone to take a picture for Henry since he had always loved fireworks. He had never asked for any, though sensible child that he had been. The fireworks exploded in the sky. They were brilliant and beautiful, and when they connected, they formed the faces of Matthew, Rose Xavier—the widow—and Zack.

[Congratulations on graduating, Zack!]

They were a true family of three here.

As I stared at the faces in the air, my phone slipped out from my grip, and the emotions I had kept suppressed for so long finally erupted.

Matthew had spent all of our savings to pay for Zack’s treatment, and he ended up damning his own family with a huge debt. We all put in efforts to help repay it; I worked day and night. I endured so much that my skin had become tanned and my face was covered in wrinkles. Henry worked multiple part-time jobs. He was a waiter in restaurants and never complained when drunkards beat him up.

But the money my son and I earned was not even enough to cover a tiny portion of the fireworks show Matthew had prepared for Zack.

I sat on the ground and cried so hard that I started hyperventilating. I gasped for breath before suddenly emptying the contents of my stomach everywhere.

The brilliant fireworks in the sky were like a sharp knife that kept stabbing into my heart.

When I got home, it was already midnight. I then heard Matthew talking to someone through the phone in our dilapidated rental house.

“Matthew, you’ve been pretending to be poor for Zack and my sake. If Wendy learns about the truth, will she hate us?”

Then, with a cool voice, Matthew replied, “No. Both she and my son already have my love. It’s fine if they endure some suffering. Zack’s father died to save me. I won’t ever forget about that favor. Now that Zack has enrolled in university, I’ll make it up to Wendy and Henry.”

It all sounded so insignificant to him...