he Day He Chose Her Over Our Dying Son, I Chose Vengeance - Chapter 26: Chapter 26
You are reading he Day He Chose Her Over Our Dying Son, I Chose Vengeance, Chapter 26: Chapter 26. Read more chapters of he Day He Chose Her Over Our Dying Son, I Chose Vengeance.
Jacob stumbled out of the train station like a ghost.
The distant wail of the departing train shattered something inside him.
He curled up in the backseat of his car and broke down sobbing.
Back in the neighborhood, everything looked the same.
Kids were playing tag in the yard, laughing like the world hadn't ended.
Jacob's eyes burned as he walked past them.
He opened the front door—
The living room was empty.
No Ethan scribbling homework at the kitchen table.
No me cooking dinner a few feet away.
Jacob collapsed on the old twin bed, burying his face deep in the blankets.
Days passed.
He didn't leave the room.
Just sat there clutching the stack of cardboard models his son had made.
Every time he came home, Ethan would hold them up and ask so carefully,
"Dad, can you play with me for a little while?"
And what had he said back then?
He said,
"I'm tired. I've got stuff to do."
"Play by yourself."
He remembered how Ethan's eyes turned red, how he sniffled but didn't dare cry.
So little, yet already so heartbreakingly grown-up.
Something in Jacob's chest twisted—
Then again—
And again, until the pain bloomed sharp and constant.
Memories came rushing in, stabbing him from all sides.
He forced himself upright.
But then—
He saw a warm light glowing in the living room.
He stepped out.
Ethan stood there, beaming at the stack of cardboard in his arms.
"Dad, will you play with me now?"
Jacob's heart leapt.
He nodded quickly, and they both knelt down, laughing and building on the floor.
He looked up.
I was sitting beneath the lamp, sewing a brand-new navy blue backpack.
Then—
A knock shattered the moment.
He turned—
And we were gone.
Gone like we'd never been there at all.
He called out our names in a panic,
But the room stayed silent.
The knocking grew louder.
Then came a familiar voice from outside—
"Jacob? Jacob, are you in there?"
It was Lillian.
She was bundled up in a wool coat, peeking in through the window.
Jacob yanked the curtains shut, sealing himself inside.
He wanted to block out the neighbors' pitying eyes.
But in that dark room, time lost all meaning.
He'd promised Tyler he'd go to his school orientation, just to keep the kid from being embarrassed.
"Jacob, it's Tyler's big day."
"You said you'd take him this afternoon, remember?"
Jacob rubbed his aching forehead.
The sunlight filtering through the blinds made him squint.
That dream had been too perfect.
Too cruel.
He dragged himself to the door.
When he opened it, Lillian was standing there, eyes full of sympathy.
"I'm sorry, Lillian. I'm not going today."
Her face crumpled with confusion.
"What? But… you promised Tyler…"
Jacob sighed, rubbing his temples.
"Ethan's dead."
A flicker of annoyance passed through her eyes, but she kept pushing.
"Tyler told all his new friends you were coming."
"They're expecting you."
Jacob shook his head wearily.
"Tell them I got deployed."
"I'll meet his friends another time—if there is one."
He'd broken that promise to Ethan so many times.
And Ethan never once complained.
Jacob had assumed all kids were that understanding.
He'd clearly overestimated Tyler.
And Lillian.
Still, she kept pressing—
"But if Tyler ditches his friends today, they'll say he lied.
No one'll want to hang out with him if they think he's a liar."
Kids can be brutal.
One broken promise, one slip-up, and you're out.
Jacob looked torn.
But then his eyes drifted to Ethan's empty desk.
And just like that, whatever light was left in them vanished.
His son was gone.
And here he was, pretending to be someone else's dad.
How pathetic.
"You should go. You're running late anyway."
Lillian huffed in frustration.
"Geez, a little bastard dies and suddenly the whole world stops?"
"My kid's still alive. He matters more!"
The door slammed open.
Jacob stood there, eyes cold as steel.
"What did you just say?"
His voice dropped, sharp and lethal.
"Say it again. Say it to my face—who's a bastard?"
The distant wail of the departing train shattered something inside him.
He curled up in the backseat of his car and broke down sobbing.
Back in the neighborhood, everything looked the same.
Kids were playing tag in the yard, laughing like the world hadn't ended.
Jacob's eyes burned as he walked past them.
He opened the front door—
The living room was empty.
No Ethan scribbling homework at the kitchen table.
No me cooking dinner a few feet away.
Jacob collapsed on the old twin bed, burying his face deep in the blankets.
Days passed.
He didn't leave the room.
Just sat there clutching the stack of cardboard models his son had made.
Every time he came home, Ethan would hold them up and ask so carefully,
"Dad, can you play with me for a little while?"
And what had he said back then?
He said,
"I'm tired. I've got stuff to do."
"Play by yourself."
He remembered how Ethan's eyes turned red, how he sniffled but didn't dare cry.
So little, yet already so heartbreakingly grown-up.
Something in Jacob's chest twisted—
Then again—
And again, until the pain bloomed sharp and constant.
Memories came rushing in, stabbing him from all sides.
He forced himself upright.
But then—
He saw a warm light glowing in the living room.
He stepped out.
Ethan stood there, beaming at the stack of cardboard in his arms.
"Dad, will you play with me now?"
Jacob's heart leapt.
He nodded quickly, and they both knelt down, laughing and building on the floor.
He looked up.
I was sitting beneath the lamp, sewing a brand-new navy blue backpack.
Then—
A knock shattered the moment.
He turned—
And we were gone.
Gone like we'd never been there at all.
He called out our names in a panic,
But the room stayed silent.
The knocking grew louder.
Then came a familiar voice from outside—
"Jacob? Jacob, are you in there?"
It was Lillian.
She was bundled up in a wool coat, peeking in through the window.
Jacob yanked the curtains shut, sealing himself inside.
He wanted to block out the neighbors' pitying eyes.
But in that dark room, time lost all meaning.
He'd promised Tyler he'd go to his school orientation, just to keep the kid from being embarrassed.
"Jacob, it's Tyler's big day."
"You said you'd take him this afternoon, remember?"
Jacob rubbed his aching forehead.
The sunlight filtering through the blinds made him squint.
That dream had been too perfect.
Too cruel.
He dragged himself to the door.
When he opened it, Lillian was standing there, eyes full of sympathy.
"I'm sorry, Lillian. I'm not going today."
Her face crumpled with confusion.
"What? But… you promised Tyler…"
Jacob sighed, rubbing his temples.
"Ethan's dead."
A flicker of annoyance passed through her eyes, but she kept pushing.
"Tyler told all his new friends you were coming."
"They're expecting you."
Jacob shook his head wearily.
"Tell them I got deployed."
"I'll meet his friends another time—if there is one."
He'd broken that promise to Ethan so many times.
And Ethan never once complained.
Jacob had assumed all kids were that understanding.
He'd clearly overestimated Tyler.
And Lillian.
Still, she kept pressing—
"But if Tyler ditches his friends today, they'll say he lied.
No one'll want to hang out with him if they think he's a liar."
Kids can be brutal.
One broken promise, one slip-up, and you're out.
Jacob looked torn.
But then his eyes drifted to Ethan's empty desk.
And just like that, whatever light was left in them vanished.
His son was gone.
And here he was, pretending to be someone else's dad.
How pathetic.
"You should go. You're running late anyway."
Lillian huffed in frustration.
"Geez, a little bastard dies and suddenly the whole world stops?"
"My kid's still alive. He matters more!"
The door slammed open.
Jacob stood there, eyes cold as steel.
"What did you just say?"
His voice dropped, sharp and lethal.
"Say it again. Say it to my face—who's a bastard?"
End of he Day He Chose Her Over Our Dying Son, I Chose Vengeance Chapter 26. Continue reading Chapter 27 or return to he Day He Chose Her Over Our Dying Son, I Chose Vengeance book page.