Crushed Confidence, Revived Passion

We had booked a hotel room. However, while we were in the middle of our intimacy, I suddenly experienced excruciating pain in my abdomen. It quickly became apparent that I had a ruptured ovary, which led to severe internal bleeding. The situation rapidly worsened and I was in intense pain and losing blood quickly. I was rushed to the hospital. While I was fighting for my life in the ER, my husband, who had always played a loving-husband, was outside the door live-streaming his sob story.

“She cheated because she was lonely. She is having bleeding out because they play it rough,” he said to his viewers. The media, unaware of the truth, seized the opportunity to broadcast his narrative widely. I was subjected to cyberbullying and, ultimately, died as a result. Meanwhile, my husband, capitalizing on the scandal, made a fortune from live-streamed product promotions and married his first love—the only woman he ever truly cared about.

“My soul drifted to their wedding venue, where a large banner at the entrance read: “Separated once, but through hard years we’ve fought. United now by hundreds of heartfelt wishes. Our wedding candle’s glow reveals the love we’ve sought.” The words sent a shiver through me.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day my husband sent me that message inviting me to the hotel.

——

“Room 316, Four Seasons Hotel.” Staring at Elroy's text, my eyes widened in disbelief and a shiver ran through me. I had been reborn.

This message had led me straight into hell in my previous life. After three years of marriage, Elroy had been obsessively pushing for us to have a child and often took me to hotels. He was so drunk that he was doing it roughly, causing severe bleeding on me.

I remembered how, after being rushed to the ER, Elroy not only refused to pay for the surgery but also live-streamed on the hospital corridor, claiming he’d been cheated on. He garnered sympathy online and attracted a wave of attention. I was vilified and met a tragic end, while he and his first love profited from my misfortune.

Thinking about this, I was consumed with rage at the thought of this despicable couple. Taking a deep breath to calm myself, I replied to Elroy’s message:

[I have plans this afternoon. I can’t make it.]

He was incredulous. A call came in almost immediately.

Elroy’s voice, thick with alcohol and anger, came through the phone.

“Have I been too lenient with you? Are you refusing me now? Get to the hotel right now, or you’ll be sorry.”

“No.” I said firmly.

“Then let’s get a divorce!” Elroy’s response was immediate and sharp. 

His words hit me with an unexpected sense of calm. I glanced around at the bright, clean salon, feeling a strange detachment from the situation. “Fine. I’m fed up with all your shit anyway,” I replied, my voice steady.

There was a stunned silence on the other end before Elroy sneered, “Fine! Don’t come crawling back to me when you regret this.”

I ended the call with a decisive tap on my phone screen. The nail technician, who had been quietly working on my nails, looked up with a mixture of surprise and concern. “He just wants to take you to a hotel room. Is it really worth divorcing him over?”

I met her gaze, my expression resolute. 

“It does,” I said flatly.

She looked at me with disbelief but soon returned to working on my nails. Of course, she didn’t understand—she hadn’t lived through what I had.