Rebirth as the Cheating Husband's Worst Nightmare

Chapter 3

The grinding crunch of wheelchair wheels over shattered porcelain echoed through the living room.

I didn't even glance at the mess. Just stepped around it and headed straight to the study.

The cool blue light of the computer screen lit up my face as my fingers flew across the keyboard.

I'd majored in business and trade, English had once been my greatest asset.

By the time I fired off my thirtieth résumé, my fingers were throbbing.

I shook out my wrists, cracked my knuckles, and powered through seventy more.

Eventually, I crawled back into the bedroom and drew the curtains shut.

Buried myself under the covers like some hibernating creature.

Mental exhaustion had wiped me out. I didn't want to move. I didn't even want to think.

BANG! BANG!

"Where's dinner? Are you dead in there?"

Margaret's shrill voice cut through the silence like a knife.

I yanked a pillow over my head, smothering her screeching under a layer of cotton and down.

The bed dipped hard. Liam ripped the covers off me. "Quit faking. Mom wants you in the kitchen."

I sat up fast, hair a wild mess. "Are you blind? I was asleep."

"It's six in the evening!" His temple veins popped. "Everyone's waiting for dinner!"

"Then let whoever's hungry cook." I smirked. "What, Grace never taught you how to use a microwave?"

His face darkened. "You're seriously bringing her up now? The kids will be home any minute, you want them to starve?"

Right on cue, the front door creaked open.

Backpacks hit the floor with a thud. Noah's frown deepened. "Mom, what's all the yelling? The neighbors can probably hear you."

Emma rubbed her stomach. "I'm starving. We ran, like, half a mile in P.E."

Liam switched gears, playing the victim like a pro. "Look at your mother. Won't even make dinner. Don't end up like her, a bitter, lazy woman."

I looked at the twins.

That cold, judgmental expression, they got that from the Johnson side, no doubt.

In my last life, these same kids debated dumping me in a nursing home while I was literally dying.

"Alright," I said, voice light. "No more arguing. Take your dad and get out. I need rest. And just for the record? He's the one yelling."

They froze.

And then Margaret stormed in like she owned the place.

She shoved Emma hard. "Quit whining! Your mom's not dead yet!"

Emma hit the floor, bursting into tears.

In the past, I'd have run to her.

Now? I stood still. Let them taste the "love" they swore Grandma had for them.

From the kitchen came the crashing of pots and pans, Margaret cursing loud enough to wake the dead.

Liam was barking about math homework. The kids were sniffling. All of it blending into one chaotic, miserable soundtrack.

Then, tap. tap. tap.

The sharp strike of a cane against the floor echoed through the hallway.

Seven steps in, Margaret kicked my door open. "The old man wet the bed again. Go clean it up!"

"We're finalizing the divorce tomorrow," I muttered, rolling over. "Let your darling son take care of it."

At four in the morning, I heard them whispering in the kitchen.

"Are you really going through with the divorce?" Margaret sounded tired, bitter. "I had to clean him up three times last night. My back's killing me."

"I'm just scaring her." Liam chuckled smugly. "We've got three months of that stupid cooling-off period. Plenty of time for her to crawl back, begging. Hang in there, Mom. She needs to learn the world doesn't revolve around her."

I stood in front of the mirror, buttoning my blouse.

The woman staring back at me had eyes that didn't burn with anger anymore, just a steady, quiet fire.