While I Buried My Mother, She Married Her Assistant

My mother passed away in a sudden, tragic accident.

Yet, just a day before her funeral, my wife was busy traveling back to her young assistant's rural hometown to marry him.

When I confronted her, she looked at me as if I were the one being unreasonable.

His mother is terminally ill, Arthur. Her dying wish is to see him get married. I am just helping him out. It is not like we are actually going to sleep together. Why are you acting so hysterical?

But when I called her that night, her young assistant, Noah, was the one who answered the phone.

"She is already exhausted from the trip, Arthur. She is fast asleep right now. If you need something, just tell me."

I sat in the suffocating silence of my living room for a long moment before quietly ending the call.

Early the next morning, my wife called. "I am going to go through with the wedding ceremony with Noah today. Just postpone your mother's funeral for a few days."

I did not say a word. I simply hung up, buried my mother in silence, and then picked up the phone to call my lawyer.

"Please draft the divorce papers."

Stella never showed up on the day of the funeral.

Swallowing my grief, I handled everything alone. From carrying the casket to lowering it into the cold earth. My mother had worked tirelessly her entire life, and in death, I refused to let her suffer any more indignity. I handled every detail personally, my hands trembling but resolute.

The guests offered their condolences, but my uncles were visibly furious.

"Missing an event this massive? Not even showing her face? How cold-blooded can she be?"

"Let us go down to her parents' house! I want to ask them exactly how they raised such a daughter!"

Their anger boiled over, and they were ready to storm her family estate. I stepped in front of them, gently shaking my head.

"Do not bother. It is not worth it."

That morning, I had already seen Stella's social media updates. She was drowning in the rustic romance of a country wedding. Why would she spare a single thought for a funeral? Her heart had checked out of our marriage a long time ago. Having her here would only poison the air.

My mother's farewell did not need the presence of someone utterly devoid of a soul.

The heavy mahogany casket gradually disappeared beneath the dirt. I took the shovel from one of the gravediggers, scooped up a pile of damp earth, and let it fall gently over the wood.

The only person in this world who loved me unconditionally was gone forever.

When the service ended, I sent Stella a text.

[The funeral is over.]

The message sank like a stone in an endless ocean. No reply.

Maybe she was too busy to see it. Maybe she saw it and just could not be bothered to type a response.

It did not matter anymore.

Because I no longer cared.

After seeing off the last of the guests, I contacted a top-tier family law firm, explained my situation, and officially retained a lawyer to dissolve my marriage.

The moment I stepped through my front door, my phone buzzed with a video message from Noah.

The screen filled with the sights and sounds of a boisterous barn wedding. It was incredibly loud, draped in floral arrangements and rustic lights, every face in the background flushed with celebration.

Noah's voice bled through the speaker, dripping with a sickening blend of triumph and fake pity.

"Oh man, it is such a shame you are not here, Arthur. Look at this. I told Stella we did not need to go all out, but she insisted. Cost an absolute fortune."

I let out a flat, hollow noise of acknowledgment and moved to hang up.

But then the camera panned. There, standing in the center of the frame, was Stella. She was wearing a stunning white bridal gown, her face glowing with a sweet, radiant happiness I had not seen directed at me in years.

"Look over here, babe," Noah coaxed.

Stella turned her head. When she realized he was recording a video to send to me, she did not flinch. She did not try to hide. Instead, she waved enthusiastically.

"Hey honey! The country aesthetic is actually gorgeous! It is such a pity your mom passed away right now. Otherwise, you could have come down and joined the fun."

Joined the fun?

The phone rattled against my shaking palm.

So, in her eyes, the tragic death of the woman who gave me life was nothing more than an inconvenient schedule conflict that kept me from attending my own wife's fake wedding.

Looking back, Stella and I had walked side by side for eight long years.

Just last year, I had secretly counted my blessings, relieved that we had smoothly sailed past the dreaded seven-year itch. Now, reality had delivered a brutal, waking slap to the face.

I could not pinpoint exactly when it started, but Stella's patience for me had simply evaporated. The gentle, understanding woman I married was replaced by someone volatile, prone to explosive tempers and erratic moods. Sometimes, a slightly overcooked dinner was enough to make her storm out of the house.

Every time we fought, I was the one who yielded. I swallowed my pride. It did not matter who was at fault or how far she crossed the line. I loved her, so I compromised.

Then Noah entered the picture.

Their relationship escalated with terrifying speed. Every day was a blur of lingering touches, inside jokes, and deeply inappropriate eye contact.

While my mother was still alive, the neighborhood gossips made sure the whispers reached her ears. Worried, she had gently asked Stella about it. Stella had erupted into a screaming fit, shattering plates against the kitchen wall and screaming that my mother was a paranoid, toxic woman who wanted to ruin her life.

My mother had only asked out of genuine concern.

When I came home from work that night, I found my mother sitting alone on the sofa, her eyes red and swollen. Stella, meanwhile, did not come home at all.

She ignored my calls and left my texts on read, only strutting back into the house the next morning.

That was the first time I ever truly lost my temper with her. Stella looked at me like I was insane, completely bewildered as to why I was making such a big deal out of nothing. She had conveniently forgotten how my mother had treated her like her own flesh and blood from the day we exchanged our vows.

Later, when my mother's health failed and she was hospitalized, Stella never visited. Not once.

At first, a blinding anger consumed me. But eventually, a numbing exhaustion took its place. We had been married for so long. I foolishly convinced myself that if we just weathered this storm, if we just survived this rough patch, the warmth would eventually return to our home.

I trapped myself in a beautifully constructed delusion. I hypnotized myself with false hope.

Until the flatline sounded in that sterile hospital room.

Staring at my mother's rapidly cooling body, the veil finally dropped. I realized how pathetically comical my hopes had been.

Stella and I were already a rotting corpse of a marriage. There was no future.

She had packed her bags the day before the funeral. I had naively assumed she was just stressed and would turn around. Instead, she called to demand I put my mother's burial on hold.

Her reason? Noah's mother was unwell and wanted to see him bring home a bride. And that bride had to be my wife.

It was sickeningly laughable.

Her own mother-in-law was dead. But instead of wearing black, she was busy playing dress-up for another man. Even if she hated my mother, basic human decency dictated respect for the dead. She knew that. She just did not care.

When my heart finally shattered, there was no loud explosion. Just a quiet, absolute death of everything I ever felt for her.

With the funeral behind me, I began packing up my mother's belongings.

There was not much. A few simple dresses, some worn knitting needles, and a handful of tarnished jewelry.

When my fingers brushed against a heavy, beautifully ornate vintage gold locket, my breath caught in my throat. My mother had told me time and time again that this was my grandmother's heirloom. It was meant to be locked around the neck of the woman who would carry our family's love into the next generation.

I sat on the edge of the bed, staring blankly at the gold.

Right then, my phone lit up with a text from Stella.

[Hubby, I am going to be swamped the next few days taking wedding photos and family portraits. I will not be coming home.]

I did not reply. A cynical, dry laugh scraped its way up my throat. I carefully wrapped the gold locket in velvet and placed it securely in my safe.

It was my mother's dying wish to pass this on, but I would rather melt it down than let it touch Stella's skin. She was completely unworthy.

Late that night, I saw her newest social media post.

It was a professional family portrait of her, Noah, and Noah's parents.

The caption read: [A Happy Family.]

In the photo, Noah's hand was wrapped tightly around her waist. They were looking deeply into each other's eyes, absolute adoration radiating from their smiles.

I had almost forgotten that Stella could look so soft, so tender. Or perhaps, she had always been tender. She just reserved it exclusively for the people she actually loved.

Two days later, she finally called. She ordered me to pick her up from the central train station.

I was mildly confused at first. She had driven her own luxury SUV down to the country. Why was she taking the train back?

The moment I pulled up to the arrivals curb, everything made sense.

Standing there with Stella and Noah was a massive flock of elderly, loud, and visibly demanding country relatives. They were blocking the sidewalk, pointing at the city skyline and shouting over each other.

Stella caught my eye and sighed, gesturing to the crowd. "Noah's mom and his extended family wanted to see the city. You need to help entertain them."

She did not need to spell it out. The raw, unfiltered greed sparkling in their eyes was a mirror image of the look Noah wore every day.

I kept my mouth shut, my face a mask of absolute indifference.

Noah swaggered over, the smugness practically leaking from his pores.

"Sorry for the trouble, Arthur. Really appreciate you making the trip out here." He flashed a bright, perfectly practiced smile. "I kept telling my beautiful bride that we could just hail a few cabs, but she insisted you had to come. Makes me feel kind of bad, honestly."

He held out a hand. I stared at it, then up at his face, without moving a single muscle.

Noah let his hand fall, a flush of embarrassment creeping up his neck. Stella immediately stepped forward, her voice sharp and dripping with venom.

"Are you blind? Or did you just leave whatever manners you had in the gutter today?"

Before I could even form a response, Noah's mother pushed her way to the front. She was a hawkish older woman with calculating eyes, gripping Stella's arm tightly.

"Oh dear, why is there only one car, Stella? We have half the village here. How are we all supposed to squeeze into that?"

"Let me call a luxury transport service," Stella said, reaching for her phone.

Noah's mom snatched her wrist. "Nonsense! Why should you spend your money? Just have your driver here take the bus home. He can leave the car, and the three of us will take it back to your place."

Stella hesitated, looking at me. There was a flicker of something in her eyes. A request for permission.

I felt absolutely nothing. I pulled the car keys from my pocket and tossed them directly into Noah's chest.

"Sure. Fine by me."

Stella let out a heavy breath of relief, lifting her chin at me dismissively. "Then hurry up and figure out their hotel arrangements. Do not keep my relatives waiting in the wind."

With that, the three of them piled into my car and sped off into the city traffic.

Before the windows rolled up, I caught the undisguised gloating in the eyes of Noah and his mother. They thought they had put me in my place. They thought they had won.

They had no idea that the game was already over, and I had already left the table.

By the time I managed to wrangle the herd of loud, demanding relatives into the hotel lobby, Stella was waiting by the elevators.

The moment she saw me, she hurried over.

"Listen, Noah and his mom said they want to attend your mother's funeral to pay their respects. They are upstairs changing right now. Wait in the lobby. Once they are dressed, drive us over."

"Absolutely not."

The refusal left my lips before she even finished her sentence.

"My mother valued her peace. Besides, these people are strangers. They have no business being there."

Stella's face instantly twisted in annoyance. "But I already promised them! They were just praising how kind-hearted I am."

"And anyway, they traveled all this way. It is the thought that counts. What is the harm in letting them take one look?"

The thought?

A cold smirk played on my lips. Crocodile tears from a pack of vultures. I would rather the graveyard be completely empty than tainted by their presence.

I was about to shut her down completely when the elevator doors chimed open. Noah and his mother stepped into the lobby.

Noah was dressed decently enough, wearing a tailored black suit with a white rose pinned to his lapel. But when my eyes landed on his mother, the blood in my veins turned to ice.

She was wearing a blindingly bright, sequined neon pink dress. She looked like a walking disco ball meant for a bachelorette party.

Was she going to a funeral, or was she deliberately trying to spit on my mother's grave?

"You are wearing that to a funeral?" My voice was lethal, dropping the temperature in the room.

Noah's mother did not look embarrassed in the slightest. She rolled her eyes at me, muttered the word "hillbilly" under her breath, and waved Stella over.

"Stella, honey, look at this. Does this outfit work for today?"

Stella rushed to her side, grabbing her hands and nodding enthusiastically. "It is perfect. Simply gorgeous. If you ask me, this is exactly what you should wear. It makes you look so youthful and full of life."

My eyes widened. I stared at the woman I had been married to for nearly a decade.

She said it was perfect.

Stella did not even glance my way. She smiled warmly, gently guiding the older woman toward the revolving doors. When she noticed I had not moved an inch, she frowned in irritation.

"What is your problem now? I literally just married her son. The poor woman just wants to wear something bright and happy to celebrate. Is that a crime?"

"You are going to throw a tantrum over some fabric?"

I looked at her. I felt a terrifying, absolute calm wash over my entire soul. My lips pulled back into a chilling smile.

"You are right. I am being entirely too petty."

Ignoring Stella's confused, slightly unnerved stare, I walked past them and got straight into the driver's seat of the rental car.

It was crystal clear. Every shred of hope I had ever harbored for this woman was toxic waste. My mother did not exist in her world. She never had.

The drive was agonizingly tense. Stella's face was a storm of conflicting emotions. Several times she opened her mouth to speak, and every single time, I cut her off instantly.

"It is rush hour. Keep quiet. If I get distracted, we crash."

My voice was dead. Flat. It made Stella flinch, a flash of unease crossing her features before she finally clamped her mouth shut.

But Noah's mother was not used to silence.

"Stella, what is wrong with this driver you hired? He has absolutely zero manners. If I were you, I would have fired him months ago."

I almost laughed out loud. What kind of delusional parasite was she, trying to dictate my life in my own car?

Stella looked mortified. "Please do not be angry, Mom. He just... he speaks without thinking. Please do not take offense."

Noah's mother sighed dramatically, placing a hand over her heart. "You have suffered so much these past years, my sweet girl. The very first time I laid eyes on you, I knew the universe made you specifically to be our family's daughter-in-law."

"I love you right down to my bones." She actually brought a hand up to wipe away a completely imaginary tear.

Noah immediately leaned over to comfort her. "Do not cry, Mom. Everything is perfect now. Stella already promised we are going to start trying for a baby soon. I will give you a big, healthy grandson."

Stella's face drained of color. She frantically slapped Noah's knee. "Stop talking nonsense! I have no intention of having a child anytime soon!"

Noah lowered his head submissively, but through the rearview mirror, I caught the vicious, toxic glare he shot her.

Stella rushed to explain, though her words felt directed entirely at the back of my head. "My career is taking off right now. A baby is out of the question. We will talk about it years down the line."

I nodded slowly, keeping my eyes fixed on the road.

She did not need to panic. She did not need to explain.

A year ago, a conversation like this would have broken me. I would have screamed. I would have demanded answers.

But today? I did not care if she had his baby tomorrow. Our timeline had reached a dead end.

When the car finally rolled to a stop at the sprawling gates of the memorial park, Stella looked out the window in confusion.

"Why are we here?"

She honestly could not comprehend why anyone would host a funeral at a cemetery instead of a lavish memorial hall.

"Did you type in the wrong address, Arthur?"

I killed the engine. Through the rearview mirror, my dead eyes met her questioning gaze.

"No. This is the place."

Something clicked in her mind. The color vanished from her cheeks, leaving her looking like a ghost. "Are you saying..."

"Yes." I nodded, shifting my gaze to the rolling green hills lined with gray stones. My voice held absolutely zero emotion. "She is already in the ground. I buried her while you were busy planning a baby with him."

Stella froze.

When reality finally crashed into her, she lunged forward, her fingers digging painfully into my shoulder, her face twisted in a manic rage.

"You did this on purpose, did you not? I explicitly told you to postpone it!"

I violently shoved her hands off me. My voice was laced with pure, unfiltered disgust. "Do you truly believe you are the center of the universe? That gravity itself shifts just to accommodate you?"

"The date was set. The arrangements were made. Did you expect my mother's body to rot in a morgue just because you were busy playing house?"

Stella was stunned into silence.

But Noah's mother screeched from the backseat. "What is the big deal about waiting a few days? A brilliant, rich girl like Stella was willing to stoop down and attend your mother's little burial. You should be kissing her feet in gratitude! Instead, you have the audacity to complain?"

"You ungrateful little rat!"

Noah nodded vigorously. "Exactly. You just take and take. Stella takes such good care of you, and you do not even consider her feelings for one second?"

My jaw locked. I stared straight ahead, a statue carved from ice.

I considered Stella's feelings.

But who considered mine? Who considered the woman who brought me into this world, lowering into the dark alone?

Stella remained silent for a long, suffocating minute. She took a ragged breath. "Where is the grave? Take me to it."

I shook my head slowly. "You can walk up. They stay in the car."

I pointed a stiff finger at Noah and the neon-pink nightmare sitting next to him. "Those people will do nothing but defile the dead. They are not stepping foot on that grass."

The old woman's face twisted into an ugly sneer, her mouth opening to spew more venom, but Stella cut her off sharply.

"Fine. Just you and me."

I walked ahead, the gravel crunching beneath my shoes. Stella trailed closely behind me.

The entire walk up the hill, she did not stop talking. A relentless stream of justifications and accusations.

"Why did you bury her without my final approval? You could have at least sent me a text!"

"How do you think this makes me look? A wife who skips her own mother-in-law's burial? Do you want society to crucify me?"

When I refused to offer even a single syllable in response, Stella snapped. She sprinted ahead, planting herself directly in my path, forcing me to stop.

"You do not care about me at all anymore, do you?"

I looked into her furious, blazing eyes. My heart was a flatline.

"The date of the funeral was set days ago. You knew that. Why did I need to send a special invitation to my own wife?"

"And I did text you after it was done. You chose to ignore it. What right do you have to stand on my mother's grave and demand answers from me?"

Stella's expression cracked. She yanked her phone from her designer purse, her thumbs flying across the screen.

I watched in total apathy as the anger drained from her face, replaced first by shock, then a sickening, pale dread.

When she finally looked up at me, there was genuine panic trembling in her eyes.

"I... I am so sorry. I..."

"I swear I did not see the message. I was not trying to ignore you. I..."

I let out a harsh, bitter laugh, slicing right through her pathetic excuses.

"Does it matter now?"

"She is in the dirt, Stella. What do you want me to do? Dig her up so you can pretend to care for the cameras?"

"How can you say something so sick!" Stella flared up again, her guilt instantly weaponized into defensiveness. "I was just..."

"Enough."

I stepped around her, my eyes fixed on the horizon. "You wanted to pay your respects. Here we are. Do it quickly. This is the last time you will ever come here."

Stella froze in her tracks. She spun around, grabbing my sleeve, her voice suddenly small and shaky.

"What... what is that supposed to mean?"

I stared down at her hands, then up to her face. My voice was a death sentence.

"The divorce papers are printed. I am just waiting for your signature."