What Remains of Me

I should have listened to my gut.

The house was way too quiet. That kind of quiet that doesn't feel peaceful-it feels wrong, like the calm before a storm. I remember tossing the dishrag on the counter and calling out, "Jason?" No answer. Not even the sound of splashes or giggles. Just silence.

At first, I wasn't worried. He'd probably gone back inside to grab his toy truck or that blue towel he liked dragging everywhere. But when I stepped outside and saw the gate to the pool wide open, I swear, my heart dropped straight into my stomach.

"Jason!" I screamed this time, louder, panic twisting my voice.

No answer.

And then I saw him.

Face down. Floating.

Everything after that felt like a blur. My legs were moving before I even knew what was happening. I jumped into the water, the chill biting into my skin, but I didn't care. I pulled him out, laid him on the ground, and started screaming his name, begging him to wake up.

He didn't.

I tried CPR. Over and over. My hands were shaking, tears blinding me, but I kept pressing on his chest, breathing into his tiny mouth, begging. Pleading.

"Come on, baby. Please. Mommy's here. Please wake up. Please..."

By the time we got to the hospital, the doctors had already stopped trying.

"Time of death: 3:47 PM."

That's when my world stopped.

My legs gave out under me right there in the hallway. I couldn't scream. I couldn't cry. Couldn't even breathe. Just this deafening silence in my head. Like the world kept moving but I stayed still.

My son was dead. My baby boy. Gone.

And the worst part? It was my idea to build the damn pool. Solace had argued. Said Jason was still too young, that we could wait a few years. But no-I insisted. I wanted him to grow up in a house that felt like summer, like joy. I had visions of pool parties and laughter. Not death.

I killed him.

That thought won't leave me alone.

I sat in the hospital corridor, drenched and trembling, my hands still stained with chlorine and guilt. People walked past me like I didn't exist. Nurses whispered. A mother sobbed in another room. But no one came for me. No one held me.

Not even Solace.

He wasn't there.

I had called him, again and again, but he didn't answer. He never answers anymore.

So I drove. Left my car parked in the emergency lane, left the keys inside, didn't care. I just ran. I needed to see him. I needed answers. I needed to fall into his arms and hear him say it wasn't my fault.

But instead, I got more silence.

And secrets.

I burst through the elevator doors of his office building, ignoring the receptionist calling after me. I wasn't in the mood to sit, to smile, to schedule an appointment. I just needed him.

"Ma'am, you can't go in there!" the assistant snapped, trying to hold me back.

But I'd already pushed past her. I didn't knock. I didn't pause.

I opened the door.

And I saw them.

My husband, Solace.

And her.

Her hands on his face, his lips on hers-his arms around her waist like they belonged there. Their kiss wasn't one of confusion or mistake. It was full. Deep. Familiar.

And it shattered whatever was left of me.

He didn't even see me at first.

I stood there, frozen in the doorway. My whole world collapsed a second time in less than an hour.

It was Cleo. I recognized her. She used to be a name from his stories-a "colleague" who texted a little too much, smiled a little too wide at family parties. I used to laugh it off. How stupid.

Cleo pulled away first, her eyes going wide as she saw me standing there.

"Ella," she whispered.

Solace turned. His mouth parted. He looked stunned, caught, but not sorry.

I didn't speak. I didn't scream. I didn't cry.

I turned and walked out.

The hallway was blurry, or maybe it was just my tears. I couldn't feel my legs, couldn't feel the floor under me. I just kept walking. I didn't know where I was going, but anywhere was better than that room.

I ended up outside, somewhere near the back of the building, where nobody would see me fall apart.

I slumped to the ground and let the sobs take me.

Not soft, pretty tears-the kind that hurt. That crawls up from your chest and wrecks you from the inside out. I couldn't tell which pain was worse-losing Jason... or losing Solace the same day.

It was all too much.

I reached for my phone.

Missed calls but no messages. Just a wallpaper of Jason in his shark pajamas, grinning at the camera, arms outstretched like he was trying to hug me through the screen.

I broke.

"Why did you leave me?" I whispered. "Why did everyone leave me?"

The sky had darkened, but I didn't move. My clothes were still damp. My heart felt heavier than my whole body. It felt like a dream, the type you will want to wake up from quickly. Every part of my body became weak and I felt sick.

I thought of Vicky, my best friend. She had been calling all day, probably worried sick. But I didn't answer. I couldn't talk to anyone. Not now.

Not when the two people I loved most had vanished from me in the same breath.

I leaned my head back against the cold wall and stared at the sky.

I was alone.

Truly alone.

And somehow, I knew... this was only the beginning.