Reborn to Leave You Crying

For ten years, I was Marcus West's loyal lapdog, only to meet my end on our wedding anniversary. As a madman plunged a knife into me, he was busy celebrating his love's birthday, cursing me to hurry up and die. Yet when I truly died, he spiraled into madness. When I was reborn, I reclaimed everything I had given away, severed ties with my mother, divorced my worthless ex-husband, and didn't even fight for custody of our child. I took the reins of a global tech giant and was showered with affection by my former arch-nemesis, Landon Blake. He knelt on one knee, holding a diamond ring, and confessed with deep emotion, "Marry me. Whatever Marcus could give you, I can give you a thousand times more." Meanwhile, my ex-husband, Marcus, frantically tried to win me back. "You've got to be kidding me! I chased after you for ten years, treated like a dog, and now that I'm getting married, you're losing it?!" ***** I met my end on our wedding anniversary. On that day, a madman plunged a knife into me, and when I called my husband for help, he told me to hurry up and die. On the other end, I heard his lover sweetly calling him, "Marcus, hold me, it's so cold today." So cold. I was cold too, the bone-chilling cold of blood draining away. I couldn't run anymore, with the madman's leisurely footsteps behind me, as if savoring my pitiful struggle. I looked down at the gushing wound in my body, about to speak, when I heard his impatient reprimand. "Faye, are you done? I told you it's Sophia's birthday, I'll be back later. Can't you understand? Why keep calling? Is a stupid wedding anniversary that important?" I opened my mouth, at a loss for words. A wedding anniversary wasn't important, but a first love's birthday was. At that moment, my husband was with his lover, while I was being hunted down on my way to buy groceries. But I didn't want to die. I had a three-year-old son I couldn't leave behind. I looked down at the shopping bag clutched in my hand, filled with Marcus's favorite foods and my son's favorite toys. Clinging desperately to a last shred of hope, I mustered all my strength to speak, "Marcus, I'm dying. Save me." Marcus's voice was filled with barely concealed irritation, cutting me off irritably, "Enough, Faye, are you done? Every time Sophia calls, you act up. Today you've concocted this ridiculous drama. Is it fun?" "We've been married for years, and you still act like a childish girl needing protection? Stop bothering me. I'm taking our son to celebrate Sophia's birthday today." He truly had no intention of saving me. I knew I was doomed to die that day. At that moment, I missed my son the most. I had worried about him being alone at home, but knowing he was taken out, I felt relieved. I forced a smile, trying to steady my breath, "Let me hear my son's voice." Marcus grumbled about my fussiness, then handed the phone to our son, but what came through was his icy refusal. "No, I want to play with Auntie Sophia." "Auntie Sophia, you're so pretty, not like my mom, who smells like vegetables and grease." My heart, brimming with care and reluctance, was doused with cold water. Because of their sensitive stomachs, I had learned to cook healthy meals, only to be met with disdain. Feeling the murderous intent behind me, a chilling wind sliced through me, and I weakly pleaded, "Baby, Mommy is dying. Can you say you love Mommy one more time?" "Are you crazy, saying this to a child? Is it fun? If you're going to die, just die already." Marcus utterly lost his patience and hung up the phone. Just before the call cut off, I heard my son ask Marcus, "Daddy, can Auntie Sophia be my mom?" The wind howled in my ears, mingled with the killer's disdainful chuckle. My strength ebbed away as I crumpled to the ground, my shopping bag and phone slipping into the pool of my blood, sending crimson droplets flying. A fatal blow struck the back of my head, and darkness swallowed my vision. Pain drifted away from my body, taking my consciousness with it. When my awareness returned, it was to the sound of Marcus's gentle voice. "Happy birthday, honey." "Thank you, Marcus. I hope you'll be with me for every birthday from now on," Sophia replied. Wasn't I dead? How was I at Sophia's birthday party? I opened my eyes to see Marcus and Sophia gazing at each other with deep affection. They looked like a match made in heaven. I had to admit, Sophia's elegance was something I couldn't match. Looking at them, they seemed more like a family of three. Yet, there I stood, invisible and ignored, while they indulged in their affection, oblivious to my presence. Watching them make a wish together, cut the cake, feed each other, and gaze into each other's eyes, ready to kiss, I couldn't contain my fury and disgust. I rushed forward. "Seriously? Have you no shame? The kid's right here!" I shouted, but no one heard my cries. My body passed right through them. So, I really was dead, but somehow my spirit had found its way to them. My son, Jake West, clapped his hands excitedly. "Daddy and Auntie Sophia are gonna kiss!" "Daddy never kissed Mommy," he added, scratching his head. Suddenly, he mentioned me, and Marcus snapped back to reality, stepping back. "Sorry, the kid's here. We can't do this in front of him." Not in front of the child, but in private, it's okay, huh? I watched with a scornful gaze as Sophia's face showed a hint of embarrassment and hurt. She bit her red lips, her eyes moist. "I'm sorry, I was just so happy, I forgot myself for a moment." Marcus handed pieces of cake to her and Jake, checking the time. Realizing our wedding anniversary was about to pass, he picked up his phone to call me. "The number you have dialed cannot be reached..." After a long series of beeps, the mechanical voice announced. Marcus frowned, clearly displeased that I dared not answer his call. But I was dead. How could I possibly answer? The killer had likely disposed of my phone, and maybe my body had vanished from this world without a trace. Jake yawned on the sofa, sleepy, but Marcus, having drunk with Sophia, couldn't drive and needed me to pick them up. Yet, after several unanswered calls, a hint of worry finally appeared on his face. Sophia, her eyes filled with jealousy, quickly masked it. She leaned in with a concerned look, her face full of guilt. "What's wrong? Is she not answering? Still sulking, I bet. It's all my fault for insisting you come to celebrate my birthday. I don't have many friends here." Her acting was Oscar-worthy, especially since she was two years my senior. "It's not your fault. I promised you. I'll be here for your birthday every year. I'll always bring you your favorite pink roses." That's when I noticed the massive bouquet of 9,999 pink roses beside them, and realization dawned on me. How ironic. Her birthday was the same day as my wedding anniversary with Marcus. I finally realized that when Marcus married me, his heart was with her all along. What a cruel twist of fate. No wonder every year I received gifts of pink roses, which I disliked. Even though I told him time and again that I was allergic to flower pollen, Marcus would always say, "It's just one day a year—deal with it." Marcus glanced at the clock, hesitating over whether to call me. "Marcus, you're so sweet. If that incident hadn't happened, would I have been the one to marry you?" Sophia clutched Marcus's arm with her delicate, porcelain-like hand and fell into his embrace, her eyes brimming with tears and sorrow. "But I can't forget you. Not a single moment passes while I'm abroad without thinking of you. It's my birthday today, please don't leave." Marcus put down his phone, furrowed his brows slightly, and immediately forgot about looking for me. He comforted her, and they embraced, lost in a fervent, all-consuming kiss, tumbling into the bedroom, collapsing onto the expansive bed. The room was heavy with the intoxicating scent of seductive incense, and any restraint Marcus had was lost under Sophia's fervent invitation. I shouted and cursed in anger from the side, but no one heard me. For reasons beyond my understanding, I was tethered to Marcus, unable to stray more than three steps away, helplessly watching my husband entwined with his lover. It was a fiery passion I had never seen in Marcus before, and as I watched from the sidelines, my initial fury slowly gave way to a cold, creeping numbness. The next day, a phone call jolted Marcus awake. "Mr. West, we found a gruesome pool of your wife's blood in the Riverside Alley..."