Chapter 1

After forty years of marriage, my husband swallowed a bottle of pills and killed himself the day he heard his ex-girlfriend had died.

He left a suicide note. Every single word blamed me for keeping him apart from the true love of his life.

My son blamed me for driving his father to death. In the dead of winter, he threw me out into the snow.

I froze to death right on my own front porch.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day my husband found out she had terminal cancer.

This time, before he could even open his mouth, I spoke first.

"I want a divorce."

The moment the words left my mouth, the entire room fell dead silent.

Today was my husband Richard's sixtieth birthday. He had invited a huge crowd of buddies over to celebrate, packing three long tables in our house.

I had been up since four in the morning, running to the grocery store, prepping the meat, and cooking non-stop. Richard had spent the whole time standing around, barking orders at me.

Our son, Jason, and his wife, Chloe, were lounging in the living room playing with their kid, refusing to even step foot into the kitchen.

Ever since I married Richard forty years ago, this was how my life had been.

I took care of everything by myself.

Neither of them even knew where the salt was kept in the pantry.

No matter how exhausted I was, I had swallowed it all down over the years.

So why couldn't I take it anymore today?

Because just minutes ago, while that table of old men was drinking and reminiscing about their youth, someone brought up Vivian.

One of them sighed, "Haven't you guys heard? Vivian was diagnosed with advanced cancer a few days ago. The doctors said she has six months at most."

Vivian was Richard's ex-girlfriend.

Back then, she dumped Richard because he was dead broke, running off to Europe with some rich heir. She stayed away for over thirty years and only moved back to town alone a few years ago.

Hearing the news about his precious first love, Richard broke down after a few beers. He slumped over the table, bawling his eyes out.

"If it wasn't for that venomous bitch Evelyn, I never would've lost Vivian all those years ago! Now she's dying, and we barely got to see each other again!"

"I've loved her my entire life! If she dies, I don't want to live anymore either!"

The men around him either patted his back or cheered him on.

Only I stood behind the kitchen door, cold from head to toe.

If Richard had loved Vivian all these years, what was our marriage to him?

I bore his child, took care of his aging parents, and broke my back running this household. In the end, to him, I was just the "venomous bitch" who kept him from his soulmate.

I had spent my whole life walking on eggshells for this family. What gave Richard the right to treat me like dirt?

In my past life, it happened the exact same way. The moment Richard found out Vivian had cancer, he abandoned everything at home to play devoted caregiver at her hospital bedside.

He had high blood pressure, diabetes, and a history of heavy drinking. I tried to stop him out of concern for his health, but in his eyes, that made me an evil monster.

The day Vivian passed away, a heartbroken Richard wrote a suicide note and overdosed.

My son blamed me for killing his father. He kicked me out into a blizzard, and I froze to death on our front porch.

Since God gave me a second chance, I decided to give my husband exactly what he wanted.

I pulled out our marriage certificate, walked up to Richard in front of all his guests, and asked for a divorce.

Still reeking of alcohol, Richard stared at me blankly.

Jason immediately yanked my arm, hissing under his breath, "Mom, what the hell are you doing in front of all these people?"

"You're sixty years old! Aren't you embarrassed to throw a tantrum about divorce?"

"Besides, look at yourself. Who would even want an old woman like you? Let me warn you, if you dare divorce Dad, don't expect me to ever see you as my mother again.”

“Forget about me taking care of you when you're old!"

I looked up, staring calmly at the son I had birthed and raised.

His eyes were filled with disgust. Not an ounce of love or respect.

Remembering how ruthlessly he shoved me out into the freezing cold in my past life, my heart hardened.

"I'm not throwing a tantrum. And I don't need you to take care of me."

His face darkened, and he shoved my hand away.

"Fine! Do whatever you want! Let's see how long you can keep this tough-guy act up. When you're too old to walk, don't come crying to me!"

By now, Richard finally processed what I had said.

Unlike my son, he stumbled toward me, his eyes wide with hope—and pure excitement.

"Evelyn, are you... are you serious? You're really willing to divorce me?"