Face Smacking

As soon as my husband sat at the dining table, he couldn't stop himself from talking. The humiliations of my school days had become his favorite entertainment, served up to his drinking buddies like appetizers. "Back then, she got her clothes torn off in the bathroom, beaten so badly she crawled on the ground like a dog, too terrified to make a sound. If it weren’t for my kindness—" That was it. I couldn’t take it anymore. I told him I wanted a divorce. He laughed it off, utterly unbothered. "Seriously? It’s just a joke! That was ages ago. You’re way too uptight—it’s just for a laugh, right?" For a laugh? Was I the only one with a past? Did he think he was untouchable? Maybe I should tell a few embarrassing stories about his precious childhood sweetheart. Fine. If it’s all about “fun,” I hoped his sweetheart found it equally hilarious when her turn came.

Three days after I died, my fiancé got a call to ID the body. He just scoffed. "She's dead, so what? Call me when she's in the ground." The cops, out of options, hit up my backup contact—my childhood friend. He actually laughed. "She's really gone? Not my problem. Burn her or whatever." Then my body hit the internet— And suddenly, both of them looked like ghosts.

In my previous life, I, Ruth Spencer, fell seriously ill. Because of that, I managed to stop my husband, Zayne Colman, from going on a business trip to the country border. He immediately canceled his flight, pulled me into his arms, and gently comforted me. Over the phone, he gave instructions to my younger sister, Reagan Spencer. "The project comes first. You go in my place." But no one could have known that the so-called business partner was actually a ruthless scam syndicate. Reagan had her organs harvested and was tortured to death. I was devastated. Zayne held my frail body in his arms and hoarsely promised that even though Reagan was gone, he would still love me twice as much. And he kept his promise. For ten years, he never let me suffer at all. In fact, he spoiled me rotten. This went on until the day I gave birth. The pain nearly knocked me unconscious, but Zayne put his hand over the call button to prevent me from summoning help. The words he spoke were laced with malice. "If you hadn't gotten sick at such a convenient time back then, Reagan wouldn't have gone alone! I could have saved her. "It's your fault she's dead! She must feel so lonely down there. You and this bastard child can go keep her company!" That was when I finally realized that our love were nothing but a lie. When I open my eyes again, I am back on the day he is about to leave for that trip to the border. This time, I release them to the path leading to freedom, or, in other words, to hell.

When I'm paying the pension for my jobless wife, Lilith Ingram, I accidentally find out that she's had a job this whole time. She's paid a salary of two thousand dollars, which is wired into her personal bank account. Every month, the money will be transferred elsewhere, leaving her without a single cent. I've never seen the money before. Back when our daughter, Maisy Ingram, was severely ill, we were 200 dollars short to pay for her hospital bills. I was so poor that I had to sell my blood and beg everyone around me just to get them to lend me money. But during that time, Lilith never thought of sharing the burden with me. She merely comforted me with empty words before transferring two thousand dollars to her first love, Hayden Grant, the next day. Our marriage of 30 years is reduced to nothing but a laughingstock. I place the divorce agreement that I've printed out in front of Lilith. It's a silent confrontation between us. "Must you really resort to this method?" Lilith snaps impatiently. "It's just two thousand dollars! You have an annual salary of 200 thousand dollars! Why care so much about chum change?" Even Maisy takes her side by calling me a petty, stingy geezer. "Everyone has an unattainable first love when they're still young! You should be grateful that Hayden has been holding back his urges without crossing the line for so many years!" I feel as though I got struck by lightning at that moment. It's then that I belatedly realize I'm the only outsider in this family. "Getting a divorce is fine by me. Hayden's getting on with the years. I just want to take care of him and send him off when his time eventually arrives." Maisy adapts a righteous tone. "As compensation for me, I get the house, the car, and the savings. You're leaving this marriage without a single cent under your name."

Set up again by her alleged family and sent out the house without any remorse, she was left for the dead. An unfortunate situation happened and made her meet her unexpected savior. She thought her life was about to end, she thought it was all over for her with no one to turn to and no shoulder to lean on. What she didn’t anticipate was that her life was just beginning, her life is about to change either for good or bad because of him. She was just alive but until she met him, she wasn’t living. Join me on this journey of betrayal, crimes, schemes, revenge, greed, love and family. Until you meet the one for you, you won’t know how it truly feels to be love and how to love back sincerely.

My husband, James Lincoln, disappeared in an accident, and my in-laws wasted no time filing to have him legally declared deceased. At the funeral, a woman, Xena Xander, suddenly showed up with a young boy, both crying hysterically. The boy, Charlie Lincoln, screamed at the top of his lungs, calling my husband “Daddy.” My ten-year-old daughter, Mia Lincoln, charged at him, shouting, “Shut up! That’s my dad!” Pretending to break it up, my in-laws instead shoved Mia to the ground. She collapsed and passed out on the spot. “If you’re looking for someone to blame, blame yourself for not giving us a grandson! This family can’t die out without an heir!” Xena smirked at me with blatant provocation. Behind her, Charlie spat in my direction and sneered, “You’re just a worthless tramp nobody cares about.” I didn’t lose my temper. Instead, I laughed. “If you want the status and the inheritance so badly, you can have them. But don’t come crying to me when you regret it.” Two weeks later, Xena showed up at my doorstep, covered in blood, banging on the door and screaming. And then, I got a phone call that felt like a nightmare come to life. But I couldn’t have cared less. By then, I was already enjoying a peaceful vacation overseas.

In the third year of her marriage, Natalie Spencer uncovers a devastating truth. Her blindness wasn't caused by a car accident. No, it was because her beloved husband, Jason Pereira, plotted to have her corneas removed and transplanted them into his first love. The only reason he married her in the first place was to save that other woman. The marriage Natalie once took pride in turns out to be nothing but a calculated lie. Crushed, she quietly begins planning her escape. Half a month later, she vanishes without warning. She leaves behind nothing but a signed divorce agreement and a jar of formaldehyde containing an undeveloped embryo. Those are her final gifts to Jason. He loses his mind searching for her, scouring the world in desperation. But when he finally finds her, she's no longer alone. There's another man by her side. Jason stands in front of her, eyes red with guilt and regret. "Natalie, I was wrong. Please don't leave me. Not like this." But the Natalie standing before him now is radiant and powerful—she's an internationally acclaimed artist and a woman reborn. She looks at the man she once loved and feels nothing. "Jason, I'm not that blind bat who used to live and breathe for you anymore." She turns and wraps her arms around the regal man beside her with a smile. "Someone's bothering your wife. Aren't you going to deal with him?" The man smiles back, leans in, and kisses her in front of everyone. "Of course. Whatever my wife says, goes."

On our seventh wedding anniversary, my husband's childhood sweetheart called, claiming a burst pipe at her home. Without a second thought, he ditched our celebration to play handyman. Moments later, Vivian Duffy's social media lit up with a smug post. [No matter when or where, my Superman arrives at one call. How should I reward him?] Accompanying the post was a photo of scattered condoms and torn clothing on the floor. I forced a smile, picked up my phone, and dialed a number. "My pipe is broken. Care to fix it?"

To save my husband, I drank until my stomach bled. Despite making it to the hospital, no one would treat me—all because he, a prominent surgeon, forbade anyone from attending to his own wife. In a previous life, he had saved me, a deed that fate cruelly repaid: the same day he saved me, his beloved, Lily Evans, tragically died during surgery. Consumed by regret, he lamented, "If I hadn't saved you, she might still be alive." On my birthday, in a twisted celebration, he intoxicated both me and our daughter. In a horrifying turn, he used his surgical skills to ruthlessly stab us both. As I lay bleeding, I begged for our daughter's life, pleading with him to spare her, his biological child. He coldly justified his brutality by claiming that being tied to me caused him to miss his chance with his true love. Fueled by a desperate need to protect my daughter, I fought him ferociously. He inflicted thirty-eight merciless wounds on me before turning his murderous intent towards our child. As I faced death, my last sight was of him, his decision clear as he once again chose his lost love over his living family.

My adopted brother made a name for himself during the potion competition by using a potion he had stolen from me. No one expected the competition to be a ruse, but it turned out to be a scheme to find a husband for the serpent clan's youngest princess. She was born barren, cruel, and hideous. That very night, the serpent clan delivered a marriage contract, demanding that the creator of the potion take the princess as his wife. When my fiancée heard the news, she panicked and bonded with my adopted brother on the spot. After sealing their bond, he lifted his shirt, proudly showing me the wolf mark carved into his back. "Your fiancée's mine now, bro. What are you going to do? You'll turn twenty-five in three days. If no one marries you by then, you'll be randomly matched to one of those older, violent nomad beastwomen." He was wrong. I still had one choice left. I found my parents in the front hall, once again cleaning up the mess he had made. "If he won't marry the serpent princess," I said, "then I will."