During Robert’s Funeral, My Sons Stood By The Casket With Dry Eyes And Perfect Black Suits…

closed bodegas, a twenty-four-hour pharmacy, and a man covering his hot dog cart with a blue tarp.

Life was still happening.

And I had just discovered that my husband faked his own death.

“Is Robert really alive?” I asked.

William swallowed hard. “Yes, ma’am.”

I covered my mouth. “Why did he do this to me?”

“Because if your tears were real, your sons would continue reading …