When my son-in-law dared to walk into my pregnant daughter’s funeral with his mistress on his arm, I nearly dragged her out myself. I thought that was the absolute lowest point of the day—until the lawyer announced that Clara had left a “farewell gift” specifically for him. When he revealed what it was, the entire church went dead silent.
Clara always loved lilies. She kept a little vase of them on her kitchen windowsill every single spring without fail.
And now here they were, surrounding her casket, and all I could think was that I would never be able to look at a lily again.
My daughter was gone. The baby boy she’d been carrying in her belly was gone, too.
The police had called it a tragic accident, and I kept turning those words over and over in my mind.
It wasn’t enough to explain why my Clara was gone.
Somewhere behind me, a woman sniffled. The organ music drifted through the air, low and slow.
My husband, Arthur, sat beside me, and I knew he was doing the same thing I was—holding himself together by willpower alone.
Then the church doors opened behind us. I didn’t think much of it until I heard the gasps and whispers.
I turned, and there was Julian, my son-in-law.
He wasn’t alone.
A tall brunette walked beside him, her hand looped through his arm, her black dress cut tight enough to be a statement.
My stomach dropped straight to the floor.
“Arthur. What… who… am I seeing what I think I’m seeing?”
Arthur turned, saw what I saw, and went completely still beside me.
“I-I think so, Evelyn,” Arthur replied. “That must be Sienna.”
I bit my lip so hard, I tasted pennies.
Sienna. I first heard that name when Clara was in her first trimester.
We’d invited her and Julian to dinner, but she came alone.
“Julian had to work late,” she said with a small smile.
“What’s he working on?” Arthur asked.
Clara burst into tears. I thought it was just hormones, but then she started talking.
“I-I think he’s—” Clara broke off, sobbing. “I think Julian is having an affair.”
We sat her down in the living room and listened as she told us about the late nights Julian had been spending at the office, and how he was constantly texting his colleague, Sienna.
I held her close and told her it might be nothing, and that she shouldn’t jump to conclusions.
Now, I was watching my son-in-law walk into my daughter’s funeral with his mistress.
Julian guided her down the aisle with one hand at the small of her back. He steered her into the front row.
The spot reserved for the mourning husband, who clearly wasn’t mourning much at all.
Sienna sat down and tilted her head against Julian’s shoulder.
I heard someone whisper, “Did he really bring a date to his wife’s funeral?”
I braced my hands and started to rise. I wasn’t going to stand by and watch those two make a mockery of the worst day of my life. I’d drag that woman out of here myself if I had to, but this could not continue!
Arthur grabbed my arm.
“Not here, Evelyn,” he said under his breath, his grip firm. “Not during the service.”
“I’m not letting her sit there.”
Leave a Comment