The Halloween Night I Buried My Mother, He CheatedChapter 1

It was Halloween. Kids pounded on the door outside. "Trick or treat!"

I sat in the dark, holding my mother's urn, and said nothing.

Two months ago, Ryan said he had nothing to spare for our son's surgery. So my mother gave me her life savings.

"Thanks, Mom. I'll pay you back when Ryan gets paid." That's what I said back then.

I never got the chance.

She died. The thugs beat her to death.

Only then did I learn that her “savings” had come from a loan shark.

The kids outside had stopped knocking.

The house was so quiet I could hear the front door unlock.

My son Tyler came home laughing, a pumpkin lantern still in his little hand.

Ryan followed him in. When he saw me, he tossed his jacket over the urn in my arms.

"Still sulking because I wouldn't give you money? Save it. Run me a bath."

I didn't answer. Just slid his jacket off the urn.

Then I saw them.

The receipts fluttered from his pocket and landed face-up at my feet.

Handbags. Diamonds. Even auction necklaces. All for Sarah.

The timing? Exactly his payday. the day he asked my mother to wait just one more.

He claimed he'd spent the salary on client dinners.

My hands shaking, I picked them up and looked him in the eye.

"Explain this, Ryan."

Tyler reacted first. He rolled his eyes. "Mom, Aunt Sarah's sick. Dad's just taking care of her. Why do you always have to make things ugly?"

Ryan didn't blink.

"Knock it off, Lena. You know Sarah's husband saved my life. So what's wrong with me being good to her?"

"I'm tired, so enough drama with your fake urn. Next month, when I get paid, I'll pay your mother back. Happy?"

Tyler nodded in agreement.

"If that's not enough, I'll pick some flowers for Grandma tomorrow, okay? Dad works really hard, Mom, so just stop pushing him."

I looked at them, dry-eyed.

For three days I'd been arranging Mom's funeral. Neither of them had asked where I'd gone.

Neither of them was asking now.

Ryan was already scrolling through his phone. Tyler was fiddling with his pumpkin lantern.

I took my phone and typed to my lawyer:

I need a divorce. And I need you to trace every dollar my husband sent to Sarah Lawson.

Ryan had promised to pay my mother back next payday?

Fine, I'd make sure he did.

...

I threw the stack of receipts on the floor and clutched the urn to my chest. I walked out.

Ryan followed me to the door and shoved a canvas grocery bag into my hands.

"Tyler just got out of the hospital. Pick up some real food, would you? Maybe some ribs."

He pulled out his wallet, then put it back.

"I already went through my paycheck this month. You'll have to figure out the grocery money yourself."

He just stood there, hand out, waiting for me to take the bag.

There was even a little smile on his face.

Somehow, my mind drifted back eight years. Ryan Parker had been a fresh private in the Army, making next to nothing.

Even then, he'd hand me forty or fifty bucks a week without being asked.

Now he was a battalion commander earning ten times what he used to make.

Yet he always had a reason not to give me grocery money anymore.

The cost of living near base was high.

Tyler's school expenses kept going up.

I had to host dinners for my superiors for our future.

He always said that.

But the receipts on the floor were still there.

A designer bag. Expensive jewelry. A necklace from an auction.

Every time Ryan told me there wasn't enough money, there had been enough money for Sarah.

I looked down at the empty bag in my hands and laughed.

"I'm not cooking tonight. You two can feed yourselves."

"Lena, It's Halloween today."

"So?"

Ryan blinked. Then he took a deep breath.

"Are you seriously still upset about the money? Come on, drop it."

Then he stopped. Waiting. For my tears. My begging. Something.

But I didn't answer.

"I've told you I have expenses," he said, slower this time. "Important ones. I can't just throw cash around."

"I'm doing this for our future."

Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a few crumpled bills.

He held them out to me.

"Here. Go get something to celebrate Halloween. Consider it my contribution to the household."

I hugged the urn tighter to my chest.

Then I looked down.

Twenty dollars.

After eight years of marriage.

After my mother had died trying to pay for our son's surgery.

I looked up at him.

"Ryan, I'm divorcing you."