Too Late to Regret: He Shattered Our Son's Ashes
Chapter 3
My son’s breathing slowed down, then stopped completely.
I threw myself over his little body, crying until I couldn't breathe.
Eventually, darkness took over, and I passed out.
When I woke up, he was already lying in the cold morgue.
I called Ethan again. As expected, his phone was still off.
So, his own son couldn't even compare to his ex-girlfriend. Maybe it was for the best they didn't meet.
He had barely cared about Leo all these years anyway.
Ethan and I were college classmates.
At first, we were like parallel lines. He was the rich, handsome campus heartthrob, while I was just an ordinary girl who faded into the background.
But during our junior year, I was severely bullied. A group of girls cornered me in an alley, kicking and punching me. I was too terrified to even scream for help.
That was when Ethan appeared.
To me, he was the light that saved my life.
I knew I wasn't good enough for him, but he pursued me relentlessly.
Naturally, I fell hard. I loved him with everything I had and married him right after graduation.
It was only when Chloe returned to the country that I realized why he had chosen me.
I looked remarkably like Chloe.
I was nothing but a placeholder.
But back then, I was too foolish. I thought, *So what if I'm a substitute? We have a child and a family now. I can endure it.*
But as time went on, everything crumbled.
He was no longer the gentle Ethan I knew.
He would stay out all night just because Chloe couldn't sleep.
He would abandon our son at his parent-teacher conference because Chloe wanted to try a new restaurant.
Nothing could stop him from running to Chloe.
I could have endured it forever for the sake of our son. But now, my boy was gone.
Tears soaked my collar once again.
Staring at my son's pale, lifeless face, I forced myself to stand. I had to handle his funeral arrangements alone.
I made one last call to Ethan. Still turned off.
I had done everything I could.
Whether he would regret it or not had nothing to do with me anymore.
When I walked out of the crematorium, my son was reduced to a small, heavy box in my arms.