Greg thought he and Natalie had nailed co-parenting—until a late-night phone call shattered that belief, bringing news he never saw coming.

Five years. That’s how long we were together before we finally called it quits. I think we both saw it coming, even though we never said it out loud. We met young—too young, maybe.

By the time the excitement faded and real life set in, we just stopped trying. No drama, no big fights—just the slow realization that we weren’t meant for forever.

Now, we live in different states, leading different lives. The only thing that connects us is Oliver, our three-year-old son. That boy is my entire world. I get to see him during the holidays, which is something, but it’s never enough. It never feels like enough.

But I didn’t want things to turn ugly. We both agreed—Oliver didn’t deserve a bitter custody battle or parents who couldn’t stand each other. So, we kept things civil. Natalie and I made it work, and every evening she’d video call me so I could say goodnight to Oliver. That simple ritual meant everything to me—hearing him say “Night, Daddy” before bed made the distance feel a little less painful.

Everything was going fine until I got the call.

“Greg!” Natalie’s voice came through, but it wasn’t her usual calm tone. She was crying—no, screaming. “Greg, our son is gone!”

I froze. “What do you mean, gone?”

“Oliver is dead!” she screamed, and the words hit me like a knife to the chest.

I couldn’t process it. “What? How?”

Through her sobs, her words were barely clear. “He’s just gone… Oh my God, Greg…”

I collapsed to the floor, her words crushing me. This couldn’t be real. Not Oliver. Not my boy.

“I’m coming,” I said, scrambling to my feet, my voice trembling.

“No,” she choked out. “Don’t. We’ve already had the ceremony. He’s… been buried.”

“Buried?” I whispered, unable to breathe.

I hung up, devastated. My mind raced with questions, and I couldn’t stop myself from calling her back. I needed answers.

When she finally answered, my voice broke. “Why didn’t you tell me, Natalie? I’m his father! If something happened to him, I should have been there!”

“I couldn’t,” she stammered, her voice shaky.

“You couldn’t?” I yelled, pacing in disbelief. “How could you not tell me? What happened?”

She was sobbing, her words a mess. “It all happened so fast…”

I was consumed by a mixture of grief and rage. “Do you even realize how it feels to hear this over the phone?

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t want to do this over the phone.”

I tried to keep it together. “Then when were you going to tell me?”

“I’m sorry,” she repeated, but her apology wasn’t enough. Not this time.

I spent the next day packing my bags when my phone rang again—this time, it was Mike, Natalie’s new husband. My jaw tightened as I answered.

“Greg,” Mike’s voice was hesitant. “I need to tell you something. Natalie… she made it all up. Oliver’s alive.”

I froze. “What?”

“Natalie’s been unraveling for a while. She thought if you believed Oliver was gone, you’d stay away for good.”

I was speechless. The flood of emotions—anger, confusion, relief—hit me all at once. My son was alive, but Natalie had lied about something so unthinkable.

When I arrived at Natalie’s house, I didn’t bother with formalities. “How could you do this to me?” I demanded, my voice trembling with fury.

“I was scared,” she confessed, wiping tears from her eyes. “I’m pregnant again, and I thought you’d take Oliver away if you knew.”

I stared at her, stunned. “You thought I’d take him away, so you faked his death?”

She nodded, sobbing. “I panicked.”

The anger was overwhelming. “You don’t understand what you’ve done. I spent hours mourning our son, believing he was gone forever.”

She continued to cry, but nothing she said could make it right.

At that moment, little footsteps echoed in the hallway, and Oliver’s voice called out, “Daddy!” He ran into my arms, and I held him tightly, refusing to let go.

While I reassured Natalie that I wouldn’t take Oliver away, I made it clear that if she ever pulled something like this again, I’d be forced to take legal action.

I couldn’t understand how fear drove her to such extreme measures. All I wanted was to be there for Oliver. I insisted we go to counseling to work through the unresolved issues from our divorce.

In the end, Mike had been the one to call and tell me the truth. As much as I hated him being part of my son’s life, I was grateful for his honesty.

Back home, the distance between me and Oliver felt unbearable. I knew I couldn’t let that be our reality any longer. I opened my laptop, scrolling through job listings. It was clear—I had to be closer to my son.

And next time, I wouldn’t let anything come between us.