My Funeral, Her Wedding

A week before I died, my wife, Emma’s first love, Liam, returned to the country.

That night, she didn’t come home.

The next day, I received her call.

“I’ve prepared the divorce papers. Come home and sign them.”

I coughed lightly before replying, “I’m in the hospital.”

Her voice was cold, sharp. “I don’t care where you are. Even if you’re on your deathbed, you need to come back and sign them.”

Calmly, I responded, “Alright.”

She didn’t know I truly was dying.

On the day of my funeral, my wife was busy marrying Liam.