A Sky Full of Absence

On our son's fifth birthday, the three of us went to watch a meteor shower. In the middle of it, my husband answered a phone call and left in a hurry.

Late that night, our son had an asthma attack. The only medicine he needed was in my husband's car.

I clutched my son and ran through the empty wilderness, stumbling in the dark as I called my husband over and over again. All I got back was an icy message: [Something urgent. Do not disturb.]

The next day, he finally called. However, the voice on the other end was not his.

"Last night, my dog suddenly fell ill and died. Elias was worried I wouldn't take it well, so he stayed with me all night. He has just fallen asleep. If you have anything to say, you can tell me."

I stroked my son's pale, bluish face.

"Tell him," I said, "we're getting a divorce."

As it turned out, Elias Rogers' emergency was nothing more than concern for Jeannie Lynch, his old flame, whose dog just died.

That was why he dashed off, why my calls went unanswered.

After I hung up the phone, I went through the motions of arranging my son's final affairs, feeling like a marionette with someone else pulling the strings.

Holding my son's urn, I was numb. How could the little boy who was just whispering "mommy" in my ear yesterday be reduced to ashes in that small box today?

Family and friends tried to offer comfort, but they could not hide their disapproval of Elias. They said a father should be there, no matter what, when his child passes away.

Elias, the city's celebrated young entrepreneur, was always swamped with work. Everyone assumed that was what kept him away.

However, just a minute ago, Jeannie posted a picture on her social media of Elias asleep, captioned with thanks to the one who helped her through her grief, noting his all-night vigil and telling him to get some rest.

Everyone thought our eight-year relationship, having weathered the notorious seven-year itch, would last forever. Yet today's harsh truth showed me that all those years of love were in vain.

I was there with Elias from the start of his business venture, through the toughest times.

On our wedding day, he gripped my hand and vowed, "You are my rock."

I held onto those words, forgoing the chance to build a career alongside him, content to manage our home life.

He always came home to a hot meal, and his clothes were laid out the night before, every day without fail.

When our son came along, I took charge of every aspect of his care, big and small.

No matter how much my heart ached, I never let out a word of complaint.

I watched his business empire expand, his days and nights swallowed by endless work.

Each time our little boy cried out for his dad, I would soothe him with tales of his father, the superhero, battling villains, urging him to be understanding.

I clung to the hope that once Elias's company found its footing, we would have all the time in the world to be a family. There was no rush.

However, everything changed when Jeannie, Elias's former sweetheart, reentered the picture, taking on the role of his secretary. They were inseparable, commuting together, side by side at every meeting and event. Every evening, a whisper of her perfume lingered on his clothes.

When I questioned him, he said she just returned to the country and did not know anyone else, so out of friendship, he kept her by his side at work.

I wanted to believe him, especially since he always said that our son and I were his world.

However, I forgot how quickly hearts changed.

It was time to wake up to reality, I told myself.