My Wife Told Me That Our 3 Year Old Son Was Buried, A Day Later I Found Out the Horrible Truth

Greg thought he and Natalie had mastered co-parenting—until a late-night phone call shattered that illusion with news he never anticipated.

Five years. That’s how long Natalie and I were together before we finally decided to part ways. We both sensed it was coming, even if we never voiced it. We had met young—too young, perhaps.

As the thrill of youth faded and reality took over, we simply stopped trying. There were no dramatic arguments, just a quiet acknowledgment that maybe we weren’t meant to last forever.

Now, we lived in different states, leading separate lives. The only bond that remained between us was Oliver—our three-year-old son. That little boy is my entire world. I get to see him during the holidays, which is something, but it’s never enough.

I was determined to keep things civil. We didn’t need lawyers or a bitter custody battle; neither of us wanted that. Oliver deserved to grow up in a home where his parents weren’t constantly at odds.