My Husband Let My Mom Die for His Side Chick - Chapter 2: Chapter 2

I'd never lashed out at Lucas like this before. He was terrified—sobbing, flailing his little fists at me. "Wah! Mommy's scary! I don't want a mean mommy! I want—"
Emma.
His punches landed on me, weak but relentless. They didn't hurt my skin, but my heart? It was burning.
I snapped back through tears, "You don't want me? Fine! I don't want you either! Give me back my mom, and I won't need anyone else. Just her! Just her!"
We were both hysterical, drowning in our own grief.
Jacob yanked us apart, shoving Lucas behind him like a shield. His glare was ice. "Cut the act. Lucas was just playing around with your mom. It's nothing. Why are you traumatizing him over something so small?"
Playing around? Nothing? That nothing killed my mother.
I choked out, "My mom is dead."
"Enough!" His voice cracked like a whip. "She had her meds in her room—what could've happened? I know you're pissed about me and Lucas going to Emma's recital, but dragging your mom into this? Making up lies? Have you no shame?"
Even now, he thought this was about jealousy. That I'd weaponize my own mother's death just to guilt-trip him.
The absurdity of it made me want to laugh—or scream.
Then Emma called. Jacob's voice softened instantly. "Don't worry, I'm on my way." Click.
Lucas clung to his side like a shadow.
Staring at these two strangers—my husband, my son—I suddenly laughed. Grabbing the divorce papers from the table, I thrust them at Jacob. "Sign these before you go."
He didn't even glance down. "Pathetic. You'll really do anything for attention, huh?"
"Divorce? You think you can survive without me? Without us? Stop embarrassing yourself."
And just like that, they left.
In the past, I'd crawl back after every fight, swallowing my pride to apologize.
Not this time.
The second the door shut, I packed my bags and walked out—for good.
Mom's old house still smelled like her. Family photos smiled from the walls, frozen in happier days.
But she was gone.
Ten years ago, Dad died saving Jacob's whole family in a mudslide. Jacob had held me, whispering, "Don't cry. You have me. I'll stay with you forever."
I'd believed him.
We married. Had Lucas. I thought we were meant to be.
Then Emma happened.
He stopped talking to me. Started zoning out, grinning at his phone like a lovesick fool.
On our anniversary? Emma had a "headache," and he ran. When I was in a car accident? He was "busy" helping Emma avoid drunk guys at a bar. When I had a fever? He was washing her dog.
No matter what, Emma came first. Every. Single. Time.
If I dared complain, I was "clingy," "manipulative," or "cashing in on Dad's death."
That's when I realized: What I thought was love, to him, was just debt.
Even Lucas changed. No more "I love you, Mommy!" Just "Why can't Emma be my mom?"
Once, over dinner, I asked why.
Mouth full, he shrugged. "Emma's nicer. She lets me eat junk food. Cooks better. Plays piano. Never yells. Dad loves her too…"
It stung, but I told myself kids say dumb things. I kept trying—until the day we both fell into the lake.
Jacob dove for her. Lucas sprinted to grab her towels.
I had to claw my way out alone.
That's when my heart finally stopped hoping.
I'd been ready to file for divorce—until Mom visited. I didn't want to upset her, so I waited.
Biggest mistake of my life.
Because in those few weeks, they killed her.
Grief swallowed me whole. Village elders helped with the funeral while I numbly went through the motions.
Returning home, the silence was suffocating. Out of habit, I called, "Mom? I'm back. What's for lunch?"
No answer. Just the ticking clock.
Then—BANG! The door flew open.
Jacob stormed in, face twisted with rage. Emma and Lucas trailed behind like loyal pets.
He tore through the house, flinging doors open, before snarling at me:
"Where's your mom?"
I gaped at him.
"Stop playing dumb!" he spat. "You know what she did. Why did she steal Buddy? Emma needs him!"