The Birthday That Buried Us

Cathy Miller deleted her Instagram post not long after.

I let out a cold laugh and sent Mike Tyler a message.

[Let me know when you're free so we can get a divorce.]

He didn't reply.

I handled my mom's funeral alone.

Three days later, at the crematorium, the staff placed a small urn of ashes into my hands. It was only then that Mike finally called.

"What the hell do you mean by this?" he demanded.

My voice was calm. "Exactly what it sounds like."

He let out a tired sigh. "It was just a birthday. Stop making a scene. Wait at home—I'll be back soon."

I had just returned with my mom's ashes when Mike walked through the door.

The marks on his neck were fresh—Cathy's kisses still clinging to his skin.

How obvious.

It must have been intense.

My mom had died from sheer fury, and while I was arranging her funeral, Mike had been in bed with another woman. He hadn't even bothered to show up.

How disgusting.

Noticing my gaze locked onto his neck, he quickly pulled up his collar to hide the marks, then tipped his chin at me. "Relax, we didn't go all the way. I'm hungry. Make me something."

I didn't move.

His brows furrowed. "Jess, did you hear me? I said I'm hungry."

My face remained expressionless. "And what does that have to do with me? Go ask Cathy."

Mike chuckled, shaking his head. "Why are you so jealous? I told you, nothing happened. I still belong to you. Come on, go make me something to eat."

I pointed to the bedroom door, where two suitcases sat neatly packed.

They contained every last trace of him from this house.

"See that? I already packed everything for you. Get out."

He stared at me, his face darkening as he realized I wasn't joking. "Jess! I've explained everything! What else do you want?"

I ignored him.

Trying to keep his patience, he spoke again. "You know Cathy is naive. If I hadn't gone, she could've been taken advantage of by those men. You're a woman too—you know how important purity is. I only went because I felt sorry for her!"

I let out a laugh, sharp and uncontrollable.

This was the first time I'd seen someone justify their cheating so righteously.

When I finally stopped laughing, I looked him in the eye. "You felt sorry for her? And what about me, Mike? Did you ever stop to think about how I felt? Do you even know Mom—"

"Your mom, again?" he cut me off impatiently. "Is she all you ever talk about? Jess, don't push your luck. I already married you. What more do you want?"

I swallowed back the words stuck in my throat.

My voice was steady when I spoke again. "I want a divorce."

His eyes widened. "No way. Don't even think about it!"

He opened his mouth to argue further, but his phone rang.

The moment he saw the caller ID, his entire expression softened.

I only needed one glance to know it was Cathy.

Only in front of her did he ever show this kind of tenderness.

With me, he was always distant, always looking down on me. The only time he softened was when he needed something.

Without hesitation, he stepped into the bedroom to take the call.

Thirty minutes later, he emerged and was about to leave again..

He spared me a glance. "Jess, take some time to reflect on your behavior. Cathy's sick—I'm going to take care of her. When I come back, I hope you've figured out where you went wrong."

The door slammed shut behind him.

A cold laugh slipped from my lips.

He cheated on me, drove my mom to her death, and now I was the one who needed to reflect?

What a joke.

I stood up, grabbed the suitcases by the door, and tossed them straight into the dumpster.

'Mike, I won't compromise anymore.'