When Grief Replaced Love
Eight years into marriage, and Fabian's mom finally gave me and my son her stamp of approval. Invited us to spend Christmas in his hometown.
My son—Luca--and I were hyped. We picked out a gift for her and hit the road with Fabian.
Right as we pulled into the village, Fabian's old friend called—crying, claiming she'd crashed her car.
Fabian panicked. Left me and Luca in some random snowy mountain town and sped off.
It was pitch black. Snow dumping down.
Then Luca screamed. He'd stepped on a trap and dropped into a pit. Blood everywhere.
I called Fabian, totally panicked.
He goes, "Stella, Roxana's in a wreck. I need to be with her. Stop making everything a competition."
Then he hung up. Blocked me.
No time to fall apart. I wiped my face, called an ambulance.
Too far out. By the time they got there, Luca was already gone. Cold. Broken. Gone.
I held him and screamed until my lungs gave out.
Meanwhile, Roxana's posting in the social media. All smiles in Fabian's arms. His face soft. Loving.
[Highway jam turned into truth or dare. One word—"accident"—and he came flying. So happy.]
I exhaled. Tagged Fabian.
[Let's get a divorce.]
This joke of a marriage should've ended forever ago.