What Is The Ending Of 'A Diary Of A Dead Wife'?

For two years, I lay in a coma. My body was helpless on a hospital bed, connected to tubes and machines that beeped endlessly. While I fought between life and death, my husband chose to look for another woman. Instead of struggling for my recovery, Roby decided to enjoy his life. He showered that woman with luxury and happiness... using my wealth. Just watch. I will make their hearts stop the moment I set foot again in my own palace.

My husband was in the late stages of liver cancer. Afraid of dragging me down, he committed suicide by jumping into the river. I couldn’t swim, but I dove in after him without hesitation. To give him the will to live on, I told him about winning the lottery. He pretended to struggle but took the chance to shove me underwater, drowning me. Before I could rest in peace, he ran off abroad with his first love using my money. Only then did I realize that he had planned to fake his death all along just to get rid of me! When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day he jumped into the river. You wanted to die, huh? Well, let me help you with that!

Being faced with the death sentence that is brain tumor seemed a lot less frightening when compared to the knowledge that your cheating husband and his mistress were overjoyed that you'd be gone for good. She had rushed home with the good news of her health only to be met with a shocking discovery. To make matters worse, Drusilla was killed and buried to hide the truth and take over her wealth. Surprisingly, fate had a different game in store for her. Saved by an unknown man, her strike at revenge was imminent. Their first marriage was simply an assumption, stricken with shock and disassociated amnesia disorder, Drusilla assumed she was his wife. The second time, when she got her memories back, it was agreed – a marriage for both their benefits. The third time, however, Neon could no longer take it. "You're my wife, stop looking at your ex-husband," he scolded her. "That I am, but only on paper." Unable to hold back his feelings anymore, he proposed. “let's get married then, for real this time." Neon was more than willing to marry a woman without an identity, but was she?

In the late stages of her pregnancy, my wife slipped away into the mountains with her childhood sweetheart, seeking some reckless thrill under the open sky. Fate, however, had other plans. She suffered a massive hemorrhage, and the two were rushed to the hospital. As a doctor, I took one glance at her condition and instructed the nurse to prepare for the cremation. In my previous life, I had risked everything to save her. On that very operating table, she and the child inside her perished together. Her childhood sweetheart, overcome with grief and fury, rallied others to accuse me of seeking personal revenge. Their rage was relentless, and they broke my hands. "A butcher like you, without medical ethics, deserves nothing less than eternal damnation!" they shouted, their words burning like brands on my soul. Yet I distinctly remembered—the surgery had been a success. Her vital signs had stabilized. Clinging to hope, I begged my in-laws to conduct an autopsy, to uncover the truth buried beneath the accusations. Instead, they called the police, who swiftly charged me with performing surgery under the influence of alcohol. Stripped of my rights, I was thrown into prison, where suffering became my only companion. Years later, upon release, I stumbled across a sight that tore what was left of my heart to shreds—my wife, alive and well, behind the wheel of a luxury car, accompanied by her childhood sweetheart and their child, living off the fortune I had worked tirelessly to build. Their betrayal didn't end there. Coldly and methodically, they lured me into a trap, casting me into a cement mixer to erase every trace of my existence. When I next opened my eyes, time had rewound itself. I was back on that fateful day, the one when her hemorrhage began.

My husband is a haute couture designer. When his true love goes blind in her right eye, he goes to his mother's ward and asks her for help in getting me to sign an organ donation agreement. What he doesn't know is that I'm already dead.

Three years of marriage. Three years of hell, humiliation, and being compared to a ghost. To Alexander Hale, the ruthless CEO feared by all Abigail was never a wife, only a woman that desperately wanted her best friends lover. He didn’t know that Abigail was the real pen pal who healed him with her letters... the same woman whose heart he crushed beneath his arrogance. Until the night she vanished. Declared dead after a brutal car accident, Abigail left behind only her wedding ring and a diary that shattered every illusion Alexander ever had. But fate is far from finished. Months later, Alexander attends his cousin’s wedding, only to see his dead ex-wife again. Alive. Pregnant. And standing beside another man.