Fireworks for a Dog

Damien stared at me. His face cycled through confusion, disbelief, and growing anger.

"Stop this ridiculous charade, Elara," he said, his voice sharp with irritation. "I know I was harsh yesterday, but I'm here to make it right. The trip to Disneyland is still on."

I looked at him with something approaching pity. Even now, he didn't understand.

My gaze fell to the angry red marks on his neck. Hickeys. They were badges of his betrayal.

"Don't bother," I said, my voice hollow. "She doesn't need it anymore. She won't be asking you to take her to Disneyland ever again."

Damien's jaw tightened. "I already told you. I was too harsh with her. If she's upset, I can apologize. Now stop being dramatic and go get Lily."

When I remained silent, staring at him with dead eyes, he assumed she was hiding from him.

"Lily!" he called out, his voice echoing through our silent house. "Daddy's home! Daddy didn't mean what he said yesterday. Daddy just wanted you to be a polite, good girl."

He moved toward the staircase, his voice growing louder. "Come out, sweetheart! Daddy will take you to the amusement park today! We can ride all the rides you want!"

An image of Lily in her final moments seared itself into my mind. Gasping for breath while he was in Isabella's shower.

Her small hand reaching for mine as she died. Her eyes fixed on the hospital door, waiting for a father who never came.

The rage that had been building inside me finally exploded.

I walked over and slapped him hard across the face. The crack echoed through the foyer like a gunshot.

"Stop calling for her!" I screamed. "She's dead, Damien! Our daughter is dead!"

He staggered back, his hand flying to his reddened cheek, staring at me in shock.

"You're insane," he said after a moment, his voice cold. "This is sick, even for you, Elara."

"I'm not lying."

"Yes, you are!" His voice rose to a shout. "Lily was fine yesterday morning! She was playing with her dolls. She pushed Isabella into the pool. Healthy children don't just die!"

"She had a failing heart!" I screamed back. "She'd been dying for months while you were too busy with your precious Isabella to notice!"

"You're hiding her somewhere. This is just another one of your manipulative games to get my attention."

Before I could respond, his phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID. His entire demeanor changed.

"Hello, darling," he answered, his voice immediately gentle.

Isabella's voice was clearly audible through the speaker. "Damien, sweetheart, I thought we were taking little Lily to the amusement park today? I'm already here waiting."

I felt something cold and bitter settle in my chest.

He had planned to take Isabella along to the amusement park. Our daughter's special day with her father was going to include his mistress.

"Soon, Isabella," Damien said. His eyes were still fixed on me with suspicion. "I'm just dealing with a situation here."

"Oh, is everything alright? You sound stressed."

"It's fine. Elara is just being... difficult."

I started laughing. It started as a chuckle, then grew into wild, hysterical laughter that echoed off the marble walls.

"What's so funny?" Damien demanded, ending his call.

"You," I gasped between laughs, tears streaming down my face. "You're taking Isabella on Lily's special day. What a devoted father you are."

"Stop laughing! This isn't a joke!"

"Isn't it?" My laughter turned bitter, harsh. "When Lily was alive, you were always too busy to take her anywhere. But now that she's dead, suddenly you want to take her to the amusement park. How wonderfully ironic."

"Stop saying she's dead!"

"She died yesterday while you were in Isabella's shower!" I screamed. "While you were screwing your mistress, your daughter took her last breath calling for you!"

Damien's face went white. "You're disgusting. Your mind is sick if you think—"

"Disgusting?" I laughed, a sharp, broken sound. "You think I'm disgusting for telling the truth? What was the excuse this time? Did you spill juice on your suit again?"

"I needed to change my shirt…"

"It doesn't matter what excuse you use. We both know what you were doing." My voice dropped to a whisper. "And it doesn't matter anyway. Early or late, you would have ended up in her bed eventually."

"That's enough!" Damien shouted. "For the last time, Elara, where is my daughter?"

I looked at him.

This man who had called Lily a mistake. Who had chosen a dog over his dying child. Who had spent her final hours in another woman's arms.

"You want to see her?" I asked quietly. "She's in her room."

Without another word, I turned and led him upstairs to Lily's bedroom. To the small wooden box sitting on her dresser.

"What is that?" he asked, his voice uncertain.

"That's Lily," I said simply. "That's all that's left of our daughter."

For a moment, the room was completely silent. Then Damien exploded.

"You're sick! You're absolutely sick!" He backed toward the door. "I don't know what sick game you're playing. But when I find her, I swear I'm taking her away from you forever."

He slammed out of the house. His car tires screeched as he tore down our driveway.

I walked back to Lily's room and carefully picked up the urn.

"Don't choose a father like that in your next life, sweetheart," I whispered to it. "He doesn't deserve you."

The next morning, I drove to Greenwood Cemetery on the outskirts of the city. I had done my research and found a beautiful plot on a hillside with a perfect view.

From this spot, you could see the Disneyland Ferris wheel in the distance. Its bright colors were visible even from miles away. Lily would have loved it.

I had been secretly working freelance jobs for years, saving money that Damien knew nothing about. Thank God I had enough to buy her this final resting place.

As I stood there imagining her headstone, the sky suddenly exploded with color.

Fireworks. Hundreds of them, lighting up the afternoon sky in brilliant reds and golds.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" said the cemetery groundskeeper. He walked up beside me. "Some billionaire is throwing a birthday party for his dog. Can you believe that? Fireworks for a damn dog."

My blood turned to ice. I pulled out my phone and checked Isabella's social media.

There it was. A series of photos from a lavish outdoor party. Isabella in a designer dress, holding a small white dog wearing a party hat. And beside her, Damien. His arms around both of them as they watched the fireworks display overhead.

The caption read: "The most magical birthday party for our precious baby! Thank you to my amazing man for making this day so special. Our little family is finally complete."

I looked up at the sky, where the fireworks continued to explode in magnificent displays of light and color.

How beautiful. How absolutely, utterly beautiful.

And how perfectly, hideously appropriate.

While I stood in a cemetery to bury my daughter, her father was lighting up the sky with fireworks for a dog.

My regret was a physical thing, a sickness in my stomach.

I regretted marrying Damien.

I regretted bringing Lily into a world where she would only suffer.

I regretted wasting six years of my life, hoping that the man I loved might someday learn to care.

For Lily's sake, I had endured being Mrs. Blackwood. Knowing he didn't love me. I had smiled at dinner parties and charity events, playing the perfect wife while dying inside.

But Lily was gone now. There was no reason to stay. No reason to pretend.

Let him have his precious Isabella. Let them have their perfect, childless life together.

I was done being an obstacle to their happiness.

As the fireworks reached their crescendo, painting the sky in brilliant colors, I made my decision.

Since they loved each other so much, I would give them what they wanted.