"Didn't you promise to spend Christmas at our house this year? How can a grown man like you go back on his word?" My wife's constant nagging pierced through my skull, a relentless migraine pounding at my temples.

I thought, "Was I not dead? Could this be a haunting echo of life after death?"

With a weary blink, I found myself staring into the furious visage of my wife, Cathy Bruce, whose face was contorted with the ferocity of her reprimand. Beside her, our son, Paul Manson, chimed in sporadically, his words adding fuel to the fire.

Was I reborn?

There wasn't time to ponder the mystery of my resurrection.

I vowed, "This time, I won't stand idly by as my parents meet their tragic end again."

"Why the quarrel? We agreed, long before we married, that we would rotate the holidays, spending each Christmas as a united family." My voice, tinged with irritation, cut through the din.

Cathy and I, both only children, had pledged before our wedding that we would alternate our Christmas celebrations, either hosting both sets of parents or visiting them in turn. Yet, year after year, Cathy found reasons to whisk our son and me back to her family, leaving my parents bereft for eight long years. Paul was now six, but I hadn't celebrated a single Christmas with my own parents since our marriage.

"Fine. Benjamin Manson, you dare raise your voice at me, do you?" Cathy's eyes widened in disbelief. Clearly, she hadn't expected resistance from me, or perhaps in her mind, I was too cowed to ever defy her.

"Dad, how could you? I love mom's parents, but I despise yours." Paul's words struck like a dagger.

Seeing his callousness, I found my anger surged.

Cathy had always harbored a deep-seated disdain for my parents despite their former careers as teachers. She deemed them inferior to her own parents, who were retired civil servants. Since the birth of our son, Paul, Cathy had forbidden my parents from so much as laying eyes on their grandson. Fearful of upsetting her, my parents swallowed their grievances, showering her and Paul with gifts instead.

Worse still, in my previous life, my parents died shielding Paul, yet here he was, brazenly declaring his hatred for them.

"Paul, speak ill of your elders again, and you'll face the consequences!" I raised my hand, feigning a strike, though, in all his years, I had never laid a finger on him.

Even as he lamented the bad luck at my parents' funeral in my past life, I knew I had failed as a father.

"Benjamin, why are you berating the child? Are you trying to cause a scene?" Cathy shielded Paul fiercely, as if I, Paul's own father, posed a mortal threat.

I thought, "This mother and son duo were truly beyond reason."

I took a deep breath to handle Cathy with care. I couldn't afford to meet the same fate as my previous life.

"Honey, I need a moment in the bathroom. Please, tend to our son and wait for me." I made my way to the bathroom, a pretext to gather my thoughts. There, I retrieved my phone, switched on the video recorder, and tucked it discreetly into my shirt pocket.

"Cathy, let's discuss this rationally." I emerged, guiding Cathy to the sofa.

"Rationally?" Cathy scoffed and rolled her eyes.

"I was wrong to raise my voice earlier. I apologize. But, dear, before we married, we agreed to share the holidays. For eight years, we've honored your family. It's time my parents saw you and our son. They miss you so much." I softened my tone, striving for calm.

"Your parents miss me? Bullshit! Were it not for our son, I'd disown those two old fogeys." Cathy's confidence in my subservience emboldened her to speak ill of my parents without restraint.

"Cathy, that's going too far. You resented my parents for not attending to you during your postpartum period, yet they continued to shower you and our son with gifts and money. They were educators, yet you never hesitated to belittle them." I kept my cool, reasoning with her.

Perhaps having tasted death, I now found that as long as one was alive, the sting of insults paled in comparison to the gift of life.

"I've taken you into account. Your parents, two mere village teachers, dare to call themselves a 'soul engineers'? Aren't you afraid of the ridicule that follows?" Cathy cackled, her laughter shrill and mocking, and Paul beside her echoed her disdainful chuckle.

Though my heart seethed with rage, I forced it down. I yearned for Cathy to know the pain of being the target of online vitriol.

"Alright, let's visit your family this year, but next year, we'll return to mine, agreed?" I extended a hand to her, but she brushed me off with a sneer.

"We'll discuss it next year."

With that, Cathy whisked Paul to the door. As he left, he stuck his tongue out at me.

For the first time, my own son filled me with such revulsion.

We loaded the gifts for her parents into the car and set off.

Initially, I thought that if Cathy didn't push me to my limits, I might let her have her way.

But there were those who, unless they inflict harm, felt their day was incomplete.

As soon as I ignited the engine, Cathy began her petty tirade.

"People, the more they lack, the more they flaunt it." Cathy glanced at me as she scrolled through her phone.

I knew she aimed her barbs at me, but I remained silent, mindful that my phone was capturing every word.

I set the navigation, securing the phone on the dashboard so that its selfie camera was perfectly angled to capture the interior of the car.

Thankfully, the phone's navigation and camera functions were compatible; otherwise, I would have had to devise another plan.

"I'm not implying anything, Benjamin, but why do you radiate such a destitute aura? I advised you to save up for a Mercedes-Benz, yet you insisted it was merely a mode of transport. You settled for a dilapidated Ford Fiesta, and I'm too ashamed to claim it as mine when I visit my family. It's utterly humiliating."

"That's right, Dad. It's lame," Paul mocked from the backseat.

I thought to myself, "If you found it so disgraceful, then earn the money yourself and buy the car you desire."

Cathy had been a homemaker since our wedding. I never begrudged her decision to work or not; after all, my earnings were sufficient to support our family, and it was a relief for her to have the leisure to rest.

After Paul's birth, I encouraged her even more to stay at home. Childbirth took a profound toll on women, and I didn't want her to endure further strain, so I hired a nanny, ensuring she needed only to care for herself.

Yet, she still found fault, believing I hadn't provided her with a luxury car or a grand mansion.

Consequently, Paul had picked up her habit of comparison.

"Paul, if you think my car isn't up to par, then earn your own money and purchase one instead of comparing yourself to others."

Paul pouted, on the verge of tears.

"Benjamin, are you indirectly accusing me? I may not work, but didn't you promise to support me? You earn a pittance each month, yet you dare to berate your own son." Cathy slammed her phone down, her finger nearly jabbing my nose as she berated me.

"Sweetie, I didn't intend to imply anything about you. You know I make at least 20,000 dollars a month, plus performance bonuses, totaling over 40,000 dollars, all of which I hand over to you. Please, don't scold me." I knew that by lowering my stance, Cathy's retribution would only grow more severe.

"You seem proud to earn 40,000 dollars, right? My best friend's husband earns millions of dollars annually. How can you be so proud?"

"Tiffany's husband? But she's the mistress, and her actions drove the original wife to her grave. Her daughter despises her. She can't be as content as you."

"No money, no joy."

Cathy resumed her phone scrolling, and the car fell into an uncharacteristic silence.

I met Cathy in college, our love spanning five years before culminating in an eight-year marriage. I wouldn't profess the depth of my affection over these ten years, but I held her as precious as life itself.

Since our wedding day, she had never lifted a finger around the house. From wiping down tables to sweeping floors, she had remained aloof. She didn't even know where the cleaning cloths were stashed.

No matter the trials I faced at work, I always greeted Cathy with a smile upon returning home. I absorbed all her moods, showering her with every romantic whim any girl could desire. Even when it came to childbirth, I would diligently research at the hospital after work, ensuring she suffered no undue pain.

So, in my past life, even when she orchestrated online slander against me, I harbored no hatred until my parents' tragic demise.

On Christmas Eve, a dispute erupted over where to celebrate the holiday. On the way, she nagged incessantly, just as she did now, and Paul hurled insults at my parents. In a burst of fury, I abandoned them at a highway rest stop.

Yet, I later doubled back at the next exit to retrieve them.

Subsequently, her parents joined her in a furious online assault. Worried I might act rashly, my parents urged me to take a break and return home for a while.

Later, Cathy claimed Paul missed me and brought Paul to my house. My parents took Paul out to play, giving us space to reconcile and urging me to apologize and console her.

But I never anticipated that my parents' car would be trailed by a vengeful soul who followed them solely because of the provocative video Cathy had posted.

My parents perished in their valiant attempt to shield Paul.

Afterward, Paul still bemoaned bad luck at the funeral, and Cathy maintained a sullen demeanor, feeling clearly embarrassed.

From that moment, I loathed them both.

Yet, I still rationalized that her words were merely her honest feelings, not indicative of her character.

If I hadn't uncovered her secretive purchase of negative comments and her hiring of cyber bullies, I might have forever believed in her innocence.

When I stood on the rooftop, I felt an unprecedented lightness.

Soon, I would reunite with my parents, and I wouldn't have to face Cathy or endlessly justify my innocence.

As I fell from the building, I glimpsed Cathy. Her face was serene as if our lives were utterly disconnected.

As I plunged, it seemed I saw her exhale in relief.

Cathy continued her tirade, but I focused intently. Distraction on the highway could be lethal, and I had no desire to perish alongside her.

"Benjamin, did you hear me speaking to you?" Seeing my lack of response, Cathy grew irritated.

"I heard you, dear. I was merely concentrating on driving."

"Forget it. With your lousy skills and this decrepit car, does it matter if you focus or not? In my view, you should reside in the countryside with your parents. Country folk will always be country folk."

"But didn't you still marry me, a country boy?"

"I had no choice." Cathy snapped angrily.

Her words cut sharply in the confined space.

"What do you mean, 'no choice'?" I sensed something amiss.

Cathy and I had been together since college. Despite her constant troubles, we remained blissful. After graduation, we both secured jobs. I saved diligently and proposed, to which she consented. There was no coercion.

Cathy fell silent for a while, and we approached the service area where I had left them in my previous life.