After Divorce, I’m Thriving In The Apocalypse

Charity struggled for breath as the man's hands tightened around her throat.

She clawed at his wrists, desperate to pry them loose, but her arms had no strength left in them. 

After days of hunger and thirst, she had dragged herself home on legs that barely obeyed her, clinging to one fragile hope: that Daniel would open the door and pull her inside to safety.

Instead, she had been handed over to a stranger.

Her eyes rolled toward Daniel. He stood only a few steps away, close enough to see her struggling, close enough to hear the ragged gasps tearing out of her throat. 

He did nothing. He simply watched, his face empty of anything resembling love or guilt.

Beside him, Vanessa watched the scene unfold with open curiosity. Then she laughed.

It was a soft, almost bored little laugh, the kind someone might give at a mildly amusing joke, and it cut into Charity more savagely than the fingers crushing her windpipe.

All of this, every second of it, had started over a packet of snacks. There had been almost nothing left to eat in the house, and Charity had begged everyone to save what little remained. 

But Vanessa, the woman who had posed as her husband’s adopted sister but in reality was his mistress, had wanted her favorite snack, and when Charity refused her, Vanessa ran straight to Daniel's mother in tears. 

The older woman had immediately accused Charity of selfishness, and Daniel, without hesitation, had taken Vanessa's side. He ordered his wife out into the deadly heat to find more food.

She had gone, because she still trusted him then.

She walked for miles through streets warped by heat, searching abandoned stores, empty houses, and roadside stalls for anything she could carry home. She found almost nothing. 

When the hunger became unbearable, she gnawed on tree bark. 

When she could no longer find clean water, she filtered her own urine through cloth and forced herself to swallow it, again and again, just to keep moving. 

She told herself that if she could only make it home, Daniel would take care of her.

She had been so wrong.

When she finally reached the house, she looked through the window and saw him sitting beneath the backup air conditioner, the one she had paid for with her own money, with Vanessa curled comfortably against his side. 

They were eating chilled fruit together, laughing softly, cool and untouched by the disaster outside.

Something inside her cracked at the sight.

She knocked until her knuckles split. When Daniel finally came to the door, he didn't let her in. Instead, he told her the truth.

The child she had raised for years was not hers. He was Vanessa's biological son, and Daniel had known from the very beginning.

 He had convinced Charity that she could never bear children, then guided her gently toward adopting one, all while knowing exactly whose son he really was.

 For years, she had loved that boy as her own, never once suspecting the lie built beneath her feet. All the while, Daniel had carried on his affair with Vanessa in secret.

And now, with the world collapsing and supplies running out, he had found one more use for his wife. He had been quietly reaching out to men in the neighborhood, offering Charity to them in exchange for food.

The man strangling her now was one of them.

She had fought at first, kicking and clawing, trying desperately to break free, but her body had nothing left to give. Her strength drained away with every passing second. Her vision blurred at the edges.

She could still hear Vanessa laughing.

She could still see Daniel standing there, motionless.

Neither of them moved to save her.

Her fingers loosened.

Then there was nothing at all.

*********^

Charity woke with a gasp, her hand flying to her throat as though the fingers were still there.

She shot upright in bed, her heart slamming against her ribs, her breath coming in short, panicked pulls. For several seconds she could do nothing but sit there, trembling, waiting for the darkness to fade from the edges of her vision.

Slowly, she looked around.

Her bedroom. Her wardrobe. Her curtains. Everything sat exactly where it belonged, familiar and undisturbed.

She reached for the phone on the nightstand with an unsteady hand, and the moment she saw the date, she froze. She stared at it again, certain her eyes were playing tricks on her.

Seven days.

She had returned to seven days before the extreme heat apocalypse.

Her hands began to shake. She was alive. Somehow, impossibly, she had been given another chance.

In her previous life, she had given everything she had to Daniel and his family, poured out her money, her body, and her love until there was nothing left of her. 

This time, she would give them nothing. She would not protect Vanessa. She would not raise Vanessa's child. And she would never again let Daniel decide whether she lived or died.

Just then, the bedroom door swung open, and Daniel's mother walked in.

"Charity, your salary came in today, didn't it?" she asked briskly, as if nothing in the world were wrong. 

"Transfer it to me. We need to buy a few things."

Charity looked at her. In her last life, she had obeyed without a second thought, handing over the money before the woman had even finished speaking.

Not this time. She opened her banking app, and there it was, the automatic transfer she had set up for the family, still pending. She canceled it with a single tap.

The older woman noticed. "What are you doing?" she demanded, her eyes narrowing.

"I'm not transferring the money," Charity replied evenly.

The woman's expression twisted, but before she could speak, Vanessa breezed into the room carrying a basket of dirty clothes.

"Charity, wash these for me," she ordered, shoving the basket toward her. "And make sure you do the child's clothes properly this time."

Charity glanced down at the basket. Then, without a word, she pushed it back into Vanessa's arms.

"You can wash them yourself."

Vanessa's mouth fell open. "What did you say?"

"I said you can wash your own clothes." Charity's voice did not waver.

She turned and walked toward the door, and Daniel's mother hurried after her, her voice rising.

 "Where do you think you're going?"

"Out."

"And the money?"

"I'm keeping it."

The woman's face flushed with fury. "Charity, what has gotten into you?" she snapped. "You married my son! Your salary belongs to this family!"

Charity met her gaze with a calm that seemed to unsettle her more than any shouting could have. "Not anymore."

She walked out of the house without looking back.

Her phone was ringing before she even reached her car. Daniel's name glowed on the screen. She answered.

"What is wrong with you?" he barked. "My mother told me everything. Why did you refuse to give her your salary?"

"Because I don't want to," Charity said quietly.

"Stop this nonsense and transfer the money right now," he growled. "My family needs it."

She listened in silence, her grip tightening around the phone. In her previous life, she had given this man everything she had. And he had still let her die.

This time, he would not get a single thing from her.

"Daniel."

"What?" he snapped, impatient and irritated.

Charity drew a slow breath, and when she spoke, her voice was steady and clear.

"I want a divorce."