Chapter 2

The next day, I held Tyler's funeral by myself.

In the small casket, Tyler wore his favorite Superman t-shirt.

I could see him so clearly in my mind, alive and vibrant. I had no more tears left to cry. Just two weeks ago, at the amusement park, he was wearing this same shirt, standing next to a Superman character and shouting, "My daddy went to save the world! Superman, I want to be a hero just like my dad!"

In the empty cemetery, only Dr. Williams showed up.

"I'm so sorry, Sarah." He placed a white rose on the casket. "If only he had been brought in sooner…"

I just nodded, unable to speak.

At 8 PM, I dragged my exhausted body home.

The door opened.

Ethan was standing in the living room, his face dark.

"Sarah, your call yesterday made me lose focus during surgery!" he started in on me immediately. "I almost had a medical accident!"

I stared at him, numb.

"And look at you. Your face is pale, your eyes are all red," he waved his hand dismissively. "It was just a cold. Was it really worth making such a fuss?"

My lips trembled, but I still said nothing.

Ethan turned and walked into the kitchen. It was the first time he had willingly stepped into the kitchen in ten years.

He took out a hardcover cookbook on children's nutrition and started flipping through it.

"Emma hasn't had much of an appetite lately. Isabella said she likes carrot soup," he said as he started prepping the ingredients.

I just watched his busy back.

This was the man who never touched a pot or pan, who once told me, "My hands are for saving lives, not for chores like this."

But now, he was carefully making soup for someone else's daughter.

"How's Tyler, by the way?" he asked without turning around.

I opened my mouth, but no words came out.

Ethan came out of the kitchen and hugged me.

"I know it's hard on you, taking care of the kid by yourself." His voice was unusually gentle. "This weekend, let's go to the mall, the three of us. We can buy Tyler some new clothes and toys."

I looked at him, my face blank, a bitter laugh echoing in my mind.

My son was dead, and he was planning a ridiculous family outing.

"Sarah, I have some good news for you," Ethan said, letting me go, a smile on his face. "You can quit your job."

I just kept staring at him, numb.

"Isabella just moved back to Seattle and she's looking for work. That designer position you have… I pulled some strings to get it for you in the first place," he said, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. "Now you can give it to Isabella, and you can be a full-time housewife."

"I'll take care of you," he said, reaching out to touch my face. "Isn't this the life you've always wanted?"

I nodded slowly, then walked silently to my computer and opened a new document.

Ethan thought I was taking his advice, writing my resignation letter.

He nodded, satisfied, and went back to the kitchen to finish his soup.

"Emma says she loves my soup the most," his cheerful voice drifted from the kitchen. "She calls me Daddy Ethan. Having a daughter isn't so bad, right?"

My fingers flew across the keyboard.

But I wasn't writing a resignation letter.

I was writing up our divorce papers.

Ten minutes later, I printed out it.

"Ethan, sign this." I handed the papers to him.

He glanced at it quickly, then scribbled his name with a flourish.

"Great," he said happily, picking up the pot of soup. "I'm going to take this to Emma. She's waiting for me."

He hurried away, the sound of his whistling slowly fading down the hall.

I picked up a pen and signed my name on this too.

Sarah Morgan.

Soon, I wouldn't be Mrs. Morgan anymore.

I placed copies on the table, and suddenly, an incredible sense of relief washed over me.