Reborn as the Wife He Hates

Four years into my marriage, my husband's mistress decided to disappear.

All she left was a note:

"Sorry, I'm running away with my bestie. Bye!"

The man who swore no woman could ever control him? Completely lost his mind.

For three months, he turned the city into his personal circus, chasing after her while I became social media's favorite punching bag.

Eventually, he dragged her back.

She showed up at my door, all fake remorse, sighing dramatically.

"I never wanted to ruin your marriage… but what can I do? Alexander's obsessed with me."

Then, with a tilt of her head, she delivered the final blow:

"Maybe you should just… step aside?"

The old me would've exploded—raging, humiliated, ready to claw back every shred of dignity.

But now?

I just didn't care anymore.

…

Day Seven.

Seven days after finding his mistress, Alexander finally walked through the door.

He stopped short when he saw me at the dining table, surprise flickering across his face.

"It's late. You're still up?"

But just like that, it vanished—replaced by the usual icy impatience.

"Alright, what now? Another fight?"

Ever since his little runaway stunt, he'd turned the city upside down for her.

The headlines. The gossip. The seven-night fireworks display that lit up the sky.

The whole world knew Alexander Morgan was in love.

Just not with his wife.

I was the internet's biggest joke.

And now, every conversation between us was a battle.

But this time?

No argument.

No screaming about why he had to humiliate me so publicly.

No begging for an explanation.

I just looked at the lipstick stain on his collar and said, softly,

"I got you something."

He froze.

His eyes darted to the untouched dinner on the table. Then, as if remembering something, his voice actually softened.

"Shit… right. Our anniversary."

A pause.

"I'll make it up to you. I'll get you something nice."

He even stepped closer, like he was trying to remember how to play husband again.

But the second that cloying perfume hit me, my stomach twisted. I turned my face away.

His jaw tightened.

"Of course. Here we go."

With a scoff, he walked off.

"I'm taking a shower."

I sat there, staring at the unopened gift on the table.

The silence was suffocating.

Then I followed him upstairs.

His phone buzzed on the dresser, lighting up again and again.