After 30 years of marriage, I discovered that my husband had been secretly maintaining a mistress for 20 years. When I caught them red-handed, he beat me and forced me to agree to a divorce. Unwilling to give up my place to the other woman, I refused, so he cut my monthly allowance to merely 200 dollars, leaving me to raise our three daughters alone. Meanwhile, he and his mistress lived happily together. Eventually, exhaustion took its toll, and I succumbed to cancer, dying in misery. But when I opened my eyes again, I returned to the day my husband and I first argued about divorce. To my shock, my three daughters declared in unison that they wanted to stay with their father. They mocked me, calling me weak and useless. It was then that I realized that they had been reborn too. Since that was the case, I no longer wanted any of them. My unfaithful husband, my ungrateful daughters, I would abandon them all. ***** When I woke up, I was lying on the floor, my face covered in blood. The house was a mess as if it had been ransacked. The sofa was overturned, the cabinets stood crooked, and a bloodstained table lamp lay on the ground. I realized that this was the day my husband and I had fought about divorce. That day, it had been raining. He rushed out of the house in a hurry, and I, worried he would get wet, ran after him with an umbrella, only to witness him passionately kissing another woman in his car. I returned home in a daze, only to find a thick envelope on the dining table. Inside was two thousand dollars. I remembered then, that he had been giving me just 200 dollars a month to raise our three daughters, yet he could hand this woman two thousand dollars at once! Fury burned inside me, making it hard for me to breathe. He must have realized he had left the envelope behind because he returned. When he saw that I had discovered his secret, he didn’t even bother to pretend. Calmly, he admitted that he and Katrina had been together for 20 years, that they shared a deep bond, and that he wanted me to divorce him so she could take my place. When I refused, he hit me. He was ruthless and knew exactly where to strike. From my chest to my thighs, my body was covered in bruises. But with clothes on, none of them were visible. Struggling to get up from the floor, I looked at the wreckage of my home and thought about my previous life. Back then, I stubbornly refused to divorce him. I had endured humiliation and hardship to raise our daughters alone, only to work myself into an early grave. And my husband Gary? He had gone on to live blissfully with Katrina. His company flourished, its value soaring into several hundred million dollars, and he eventually became the city’s most eligible bachelor. I thought to myself, “Why should I accept this? He’s the one who cheated, the one who has broken his vows! Now that fate has given me a second chance, I will not endure it again. I will make sure Gary and Katrina end up with nothing.” With that thought, I rushed to the kitchen, grabbed a knife, and slashed my own throat. Blood gushed out, but I gritted my teeth, pressing a hand to my wound as I stumbled out of the house. I banged on my neighbor’s door with all the strength I had left. Zoe, my friend, opened it and gasped in horror at the sight of me covered in blood. “What happened? Are you okay, Natasha? What’s going on?” Tears streamed down my face as I shook my head, begging her to save me. Sensing the urgency, Zoe didn’t press for details. Instead, she immediately dialed the police while trying to comfort me. “Don’t worry, I’m calling the cops! They’ll help you!” The police soon arrived and took me to the hospital, where a medical examination revealed multiple soft tissue injuries and a mild concussion. It didn’t take long for them to suspect domestic abuse. Before long, Gary was summoned. He had no idea what had happened. In front of him, the police asked me directly, “Did your husband do this to you?” I flinched deliberately, feigning fear, then shook my head. “No… No, I fell. It wasn’t him.” But it was obvious to anyone that my injuries weren’t from a simple fall. I looked too frightened to tell the truth. Zoe, enraged, pointed at Gary and said furiously, “That’s a lie! I heard sounds of a struggle from their house this morning. Her husband did this! He tried to kill Natasha!”
Zoe’s accusation did not succeed. She lacked concrete evidence to prove that Gary had assaulted me, and since I refused to admit to the abuse, the police could do nothing more than issue him a verbal warning. Thinking I was still trying to protect Gary, Zoe sighed and said, “Why are you doing this to yourself?” I simply smiled without responding. But in truth, I had already tucked away the hospital’s examination report. Admitting to Gary’s abuse now would be letting him off too easily. After the warning, we returned home. Gary was in an extremely foul mood. His face was dark as if he had swallowed something rotten. He glared at me angrily. “It was just a little scuffle. Did you really have to make a scene and humiliate me like that?” His mother, Sandra, was equally displeased. “Was this really necessary? Running to the police over something so trivial? How embarrassing.” His sister, Gina, was even more sarcastic. “You’re living off Gary right now. If you make a big deal out of this and he loses his job, how are we supposed to survive?” Seeing that I remained silent, Gina grew bolder. “You’re overreacting! Even if Gary hit you, that’s just part of a marriage. It’s normal ups and downs! He’s not young anymore. Finding a wife isn’t easy. Do you think this is fair to him?” I found her words laughable. Living off Gary? A mere 200 dollars a month was what she called “support”? Beating me into submission was that her idea of “marital harmony”? So long as it didn’t affect Gary’s job or their comfortable lifestyle, did that mean I was supposed to endure the abuse? And she wanted me to consider Gary’s difficulties? At his age, he already had a mistress waiting in line. He was hardly struggling to find another wife. I let out a cold laugh. “How exactly have I wronged him? I don’t live off him. I don’t depend on him. If he loses his job and you all go hungry, what does that have to do with me? Look at yourselves, none of you work, just leeching off him. And you, Gina, you have nothing better to do than spread our family’s dirty laundry everywhere. If anyone should be ashamed, it’s you, not me.” Perhaps I had always been too submissive around them. My sudden defiance left them momentarily speechless. Gary, however, reacted swiftly, slapping me hard across the face. “How dare you speak to my mother and sister like that? Apologize to them, now!” Sandra and Gina joined in, shouting furiously, “Ungrateful wretch! After all these years of Gary supporting you, how dare you talk back?” I looked at their furious faces and deliberately provoked them further. “Apologize? That’s never going to happen. After the way you’ve treated me, you still expect me to say sorry? Keep dreaming. “The ones freeloading here are you, not me. Don’t try to pin that on me. And let’s be clear, this whole mess is Gary’s doing. He was the one who had an affair, not me. So why should I apologize?” I purposely struck Gary where it hurt the most, making him explode in rage. Losing control, he hit me again. The house erupted into chaos, filled with the sound of crashing furniture. Blinded by anger, Gary struck me several times across the face, hard enough to split my lip. But I didn’t feel a thing. Because I knew, this was the beginning of Gary’s downfall.
Zoe arrived just in time and saw Gary pinning me to the floor and beating me. She shouted, “What the hell are you doing?” Gary was startled and immediately backed away. Zoe rushed over, pulling me into her arms. She looked at me with concern and asked anxiously, “Natasha, are you okay?” Seeing the worry on her face, a wave of bitterness surged up my throat. Tears streamed down my face as I choked out. “Zoe, I want a divorce.” She looked at my swollen, reddened face and my disheveled hair. Gently pushing my hair aside, she reassured me, “Good. Divorce him. I support you. If they refuse, we’ll get a lawyer and sue him for assault. He won’t have a choice.” Zoe’s assertiveness made Sandra visibly unhappy, but just as she was about to speak, Gary stopped her. He looked pleased as if he had been waiting for this moment. “Fine. Let’s get a divorce.” I wasn’t surprised. He had wanted this for a long time. His quick agreement didn’t catch me off guard in the slightest. But the children… Gary and I had three daughters. In my past life, I had struggled endlessly to raise them on my own. Now, with the impending divorce, they were the ones I found hardest to part with. I didn’t want to keep this from them, so I called them home and asked them directly—would they choose to stay with me or with their father? They were old enough to decide, and if all three chose me, the court would likely grant me full custody. To me, there was no question about their choice. Even setting aside my past life, I had been the one by their side all these years, caring for them, raising them. There was no reason for them not to choose me. But when they finally made their decision, my heart turned ice-cold. Not a single one of them chose me. I stared at them in shock, my forced smile stiffening on my face. I asked, “What’s wrong? Wouldn’t you be happy with me? Why don’t you want to stay with me?” Without hesitation, they answered in unison, “We want to stay with Dad.” I thought about my past life. I worked myself to the bone to raise them. Raising daughters was expensive; they always needed the best. I had taken on endless jobs, working myself to exhaustion just to afford the things they wanted. In the winter, my hands cracked and bled from the cold. In the summer, I worked under the scorching sun until I collapsed from heatstroke. Even when I was sick, I endured it without medicine, just to save enough money to buy them a dress they had their eyes on. Gary had been difficult enough, and his family was even worse. Between fighting against them and struggling to give my daughters a decent life, I eventually developed cancer and died alone in the hospital. Remembering all of that and looking at the situation before me now, how could I not feel utterly devastated? Still unwilling to give up, I pressed again. “Why do you want to stay with your father? You’d have a good life with me too.” But my youngest daughter Tara suddenly rolled her eyes and sneered, “What’s so great about staying with you? We’ll have no money but just hardship. In the end, you’d just end up dying alone in a hospital…” As soon as she said this, my eldest daughter Anna panicked and quickly covered her mouth. I caught the nervous looks flashing across their faces and, in that instant, a chilling realization dawned on me. I had been reborn. Had they… been reborn too? So, that was it… They simply didn’t want to go through a life of suffering with me again.
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