Our Marriage Ends With His Last Breath

Seven days after our son, Theodore Jenkins, passed away, I ran into my wife, Jocelyn Seacross, at the mall.

She was carrying armfuls of shopping bags, and when she looked at her childhood sweetheart, Levi Anderson, tenderness practically radiated from her eyes.

But the moment she saw me, her brow furrowed. She eyed me with open wariness, her icy gaze cutting straight through me.

"What are you doing here? Didn't we agree to get divorced? Don't tell me you've changed your mind?"

Levi shot her a glance, then smiled apologetically at me. "Eleazar, please don't get the wrong idea. Josie is just really eager to marry me."

As he spoke, he glanced subtly behind me, a smug smile forming on his lips. "Our wedding is set for a week from now. You're more than welcome to come. Oh, and bring the baby along!"

I instinctively clenched my fists. But before I could say anything, Jocelyn cut in. "How could he possibly make it? He has to take care of the baby! Besides, Teddy's still so young—what if he starts crying and ruins the ceremony? That'd be a nuisance."

My hands stiffened at my sides. Once again, I was taken aback by Jocelyn's heartlessness.

She never found Levi, who was suffering from a terminal illness, a nuisance, nor did she find spending every day at the hospital with him a nuisance. Yet while I stayed home caring for her own flesh and blood, she found us a nuisance.

How ironic.

But then again, I wasn't Levi. I wasn't worth her concern. Had she cared, even if just a little, she wouldn't have failed to show up even once, knowing full well that Theodore needed his vaccinations.

All she had to do was ask, and she would have known that Theodore was already gone.

When she saw me keep quiet, Jocelyn didn't seem to care either. She lowered her head and went back to discussing wedding details with Levi.

I watched them in silence as countless scenes flashed through my mind.

Ever since Levi was diagnosed with a terminal illness, Jocelyn had become a different person. She no longer cared about Theodore and rarely ever came home. Disappearing without a word had also become a common occurrence for her.

Initially, she told me, "Eli, Levi is seriously ill. I can't not be by his side. But don't worry, okay? All I have for him is sympathy. There's nothing more to it."

Later, she said, "Eli, Levi's greatest wish before he dies is to marry me. I don't want him to die with any regrets."

I knew what she left unsaid, but I refused to understand it.

She hinted at it 99 times, and I found 99 reasons to turn her down. It wasn't until the hundredth time that she stopped hinting altogether.

That day, I had just taken Theodore for his third vaccination of the year. We'd barely left the hospital when I received a text from Jocelyn.

There was neither concern nor reassurance in her words. It was just a cold, flat notice.

"Meet me at the courthouse at 9:00 am the day after tomorrow. We're getting divorced."

With just one short sentence, I completely lost my cool.

By the time I came to my senses, Theodore and I had been struck by a runaway car.

That day, I called Jocelyn repeatedly as I held Theodore's body, which gradually grew cold, in my arms. But in the end, the only number that connected was 911.

Eventually, a doctor told me that my son had died.