Our Anniversary, I Rejected Him

Chapter 2

At Alexa's funeral, David sobbed his heart out, blubbering over and over that everything was his fault.

I stood far away from him.

My mind drifted back to that morning, when I'd smiled and said to her, "Alexa, Daddy's picking you up today, okay?"

She'd been so happy she'd almost bounced right off the ground.

I closed my eyes, weary. 'I'm so sorry, baby. Mommy lied to you...'

A searing, tearing pain ripped through my whole body, and I nearly blacked out on the spot.

As soon as my bereavement leave ended, I headed straight back to work.

The person I'd cherished as much as my own life was gone, and I desperately needed to throw myself into something to stay busy.

Otherwise, I'd fall apart completely.

Before, I'd been so busy taking care of our child and David that I'd even turned down a promotion.

When my manager saw me, he offered his condolences first. "I'm so sorry for your loss. Take care of yourself. You're still young, after all."

Then he made a suggestion. "Olivia, remember that overseas exchange opportunity I told you about a while back? You said you wanted to think it over. What do you say now? You've got the skills for it, and a trip abroad might help get your mind off things."

Before he even finished speaking, I nodded firmly. "Okay, I'll go."

A flicker of surprise crossed his face. After all, I'd always used family chores as an excuse to turn down opportunities like this before.

"You sure you don't want to talk it over with your husband first?"

I smiled and shook my head.

No need. From now on, I will make my own choices.

Right as I stepped out of his office, David called me.

Ever since the kid died, he'd been acting softer and more patient with me than usual.

"You left the house so early today, you didn't even say goodbye? It's our wedding anniversary today. Do you remember?"

I did remember, but I deliberately lied, my voice flat. "No, I don't remember."

David spoke slowly, his voice soft. "I bought you a necklace. We still have to keep going with our lives, right? Come home early. Mom told us to come over for dinner tonight."

They get to move on like nothing happened. The number of days they'll actually grieve, so much they feel desperate with longing, probably doesn't even add up to a full week.

But my Alexa was stuck forever in that yesterday, that evening, when her dad broke his promise to pick her up.

I heard him rummaging around at the other end of the line, muttering to himself, "Weird, where'd the necklace go..."

I brushed him off in a cold, flat tone. "Don't bother with the gift. I didn't get you anything anyway."

David got a little flustered.

"I'm working overtime tonight. I won't be home early."

Then I hung up.