Nominal wife

Five years ago, I got pregnant with David Bailey's baby. That's how I married into the Bailey family, becoming his wife in name only. For five years, David was utterly indifferent to me and our son, Liam. Three days ago, Liam and I were in a car accident. He didn't survive. And David? He was off to the Swiss Alps with his childhood sweetheart, Sarah, fulfilling some teenage pact. It was Liam's third day in the viewing room, and David hadn't even shown up.

1.

People came and went, their faces plastered with fake grief. I was the only one who knew the truth. I poured myself a glass of water in the dining room. Just as I was about to drink, I heard whispers and giggles from behind me.

"Can you believe it? The kid's been dead for days, and his father hasn't even bothered to come back?"

"Didn't you hear?"

"Hear what...?"

The voice dropped to a conspiratorial hush. "David's in the Swiss Alps, with Sarah. No cell service up there. Apparently, the Baileys have been blowing up his phone, but he hasn't answered a single call."

"Probably on purpose," the other woman snickered. "Everyone knows she trapped him with the pregnancy. If it weren't for her, he'd be with Sarah already."

The whispers swirled around me, a cacophony of judgment and malice. Overwhelmed by grief, I fainted.

I woke up to more muffled voices, a splitting headache pounding in my skull. I buried my face in the pillow, desperate for an escape. A damp, salty smell filled my nostrils – the tears I’d cried for days, soaking into the fabric. And David still wasn't back.

The noise subsided as heavy footsteps approached. Someone in the crowd said, "David, you're finally here."

David... David Bailey? It couldn't be. He was in Switzerland, with Sarah. Why would he come back? Even if he wanted to, would Sarah let him?

She’d deliberately chosen Liam’s birthday for their trip. That night, Liam sat dejectedly, the candles on his cake melting down. The flickering light illuminated his little face, highlighting his disappointment. He loved sweets, but he didn't touch a single bite. His small voice asked, over and over, "Mommy, when is Daddy coming home?" He never cried, never made a fuss. He'd always been so understanding, knowing his father didn't love him, or me.

For five years, Liam’s only wish was for his father to spend his birthday with him. And now he was gone, his wish unfulfilled.

The chair beside my bed scraped against the floor. Someone sat down. The familiar scent enveloped me. I’d spent five years sleeping next to him; I recognized his every breath, every movement, every nuance. Once, I craved his closeness. Now, after all the heartbreak, I couldn't bear to look at him.

David cleared his throat. "I'm sorry," he murmured.

Sorry. Again.

When he’d left for Switzerland with Sarah, I'd blocked his path, clutching his sleeve. "Can't it wait until tomorrow? It's Liam's fifth birthday. He wants you to be here." In all our years of marriage, I knew my place. I had no right to demand a...