The moment I caught my husband with a student again was the final straw. I tore the house apart in a blind rage. His mother said I was incompetent, unable to keep my own man in line. His sister said I deserved it. I demanded a divorce. But Mark threatened me with the children, and for their sake, I chose to endure it. I didn’t realize that one moment of endurance would stretch into a lifetime of misery. Mark was a philanderer his entire life, and I was his servant. In the end, he died peacefully in his sleep, a ripe old age. And me? After a lifetime of thankless labor, I was cast aside by my own children, left to die of sickness in a rented room. But God, in His mercy, gave me a second chance. I’ve woken up just before the day I first asked for that divorce. 1 I open my eyes to the spittle-flecked face of my mother-in-law, a woman who’s been dead for twenty years. “Chloe! You dare wreck my house? Who do you think you are?” she shrieks. “He was just talking to a student, and you act like a rabid dog. You have no class, no upbringing!” “It’s your own fault you can’t control your husband, yet you blame him. You deserve this,” she continues, her voice dripping with venom. “Go on, get a divorce if you have the guts! My son is a university professor. You’re just a housewife. Let’s see what man would want you, a piece of used goods.” My sister-in-law, Megan, chimes in, her face alight with malicious glee. “Don’t worry, Mom. She’d never dare leave him.” It was Megan who had encouraged her mother to slap me just moments before. “Still breaking things, are you? I’ll beat the defiance out of you!” my father-in-law, slumped in his wheelchair, slurs, his mouth twisted from the stroke. He’s telling Mark to hit me. My cheek is already swelling as I turn my head. Mark is sitting on the sofa, engrossed in the television. “Your mother wants me to divorce you,” I say, my voice flat. “Do you agree?” He doesn’t even look up. “I don’t care. If you want a divorce, fine.” “Good,” I say. “I agree. We’ll go to the courthouse tomorrow.” Mark scoffs. “A divorce is fine. But don’t even think about taking the children. And there are no joint savings. You won’t get a single penny.” There it is. The old threat. I, Chloe, used to be a fiery woman. The first time he cheated, I demanded a divorce without hesitation. But Mark always knew how to play me. He knew the children were my weakness. The children! My mother-in-law starts to say something, but Megan pulls her back. They all know. The moment the kids are mentioned, I fold. I’ll endure anything. But not anymore. I don’t care about the children anymore. God has been good to me, giving me this second life. This time, I will not sacrifice myself for anyone. Just like before, I say nothing more. I get up and walk back to my room. “See, Mom? I told you. She doesn’t have the guts.” I ignore Megan’s taunts, a cold smile playing on my lips as I start to move my things. My "room" isn't really a room, but a tiny, cramped alcove partitioned off from my father-in-law's bedroom. After his stroke, he needed constant care. The original plan was for me to look after him during the day and for my mother-in-law to take the night shift, giving me a chance to rest. But she claimed to be a light sleeper, that any little noise would keep her awake. She insisted I move into the alcove to be closer to him. The thought of it makes me want to laugh with rage. Mark gets the master bedroom all to himself, sleeping soundly every single night. Well, I’ve decided. Whoever’s father he is can be the one to take care of him. My mother-in-law loves to gossip to the neighbors about how unfilial I am? Fine. I’ll be unfilial. Let her precious son Mark be the dutiful one for a change. I quickly pack up my bedding and march straight into the master bedroom. Mark follows me in, his brow furrowed. “What are you doing, moving in here? What about Dad? What if he needs to use the bathroom at night, or needs water, or needs to be turned over?” 2 I start tossing Mark’s clothes onto the floor. “We’re getting a divorce. Your father is no longer my father. He’s your problem now.” “What the hell is wrong with you? Are you done with this tantrum or not?” I laugh. “A tantrum? What if I’m not done?” He calls it a tantrum. I used to believe him. Arguing with him was a tantrum. Smashing things in a hysterical fit was a tantrum. Going on a hunger strike was a tantrum. But I see it clearly now. Hurting myself isn't a tantrum. Hurting them is. Look at him. All I did was move out of that miserable little alcove, and he’s already following me, desperate to talk. On a normal day, he barely speaks three sentences to me. So, this is how you make them uncomfortable. Good to know. Mark’s face is a dark cloud as he storms out of the room. I don’t care what they’re plotting out there. I change the sheets on the bed and then head into the bathroom for a long, hot shower. Usually, this would be the time I’d rush to pick up the kids from school. Then I’d have to cook dinner, clean up after everyone, help the kids with their homework, and then bathe them. After all that, it would be time to bathe my father-in-law and give him his medicine. Only when he was finally asleep would I get a moment to myself. I was nothing but a beast of burden in this house. After my shower, I start taking stock of my savings. I have a two-year degree and had only worked for a few years before getting married. After the wedding, Mark’s salary went directly to his mother. I had to submit a weekly report just to get grocery money. If I needed anything for myself, I had to ask my mother-in-law for permission. Mark would never give me money directly. But I wasn't entirely without an income. My English is excellent, and I took on occasional freelance translation jobs, earning a few hundred dollars each time. Right now, I have just over ten thousand dollars saved. It’s not much, but it’s enough to tide me over until I find a job after the divorce. And I don’t have to worry about the house. This house was left to me by my parents. It’s large and spacious. It’s a pre-marital asset; Mark can’t touch it. The moment we got married, he moved his parents in. His sister Megan lived with us too, until she got married. I realize it now. Mark probably only married me for this house. They were a family of parasites, planning to bleed me dry from the very start. This time, I will not compromise. I will kick every single one of them out. Just then, my mother-in-law starts pounding on the door. “Chloe, what are you doing hiding in there? The kids will be out of school soon, go get them! And you haven’t cleaned up the living room, you lazy bum.” I swing the door open. “They don’t like it when I pick them up. Let Mark go.” She shrieks. “How could Mark do something like that?” “Why can’t he? They’re his children too.” “Fine! If you won’t go, then nobody will!” It’s another one of her classic moves. In the past, seeing that no one else would do it, I’d get angry but eventually give in, unable to bear the thought of the children waiting alone. I always ended up doing it myself. This time, I’m not playing her game. A moment later, I hear the front door slam. 3 She’s gone. She won’t be back until just before dinner. I open the bedroom door. The living room is empty except for the shattered remains of my outburst and my father-in-law in his wheelchair. I pretend not to see him. I walk into the study, power on the computer, and start looking for a job. My English skills are top-notch. I studied international trade in college and have always loved the language, so I never let it get rusty. I polish my resume and send it out to over a hundred companies. Once that’s done, I go straight back to the bedroom, lie down, and go to sleep. I’m so tired. I don’t want to think. I don’t want to care about anything. “Where’s dinner? Why hasn’t anyone cooked?” “Are you dead? You’re home all day and you don’t cook? You don’t clean up the floor?” “Mark, look at this woman you married! Lazy and useless! She’s just lying in bed instead of making dinner. Does she have a death wish? Is this a rebellion?” My mother-in-law’s screeching voice wakes me. I pull the comforter over my head in annoyance. “Get up.” Mark is in the room. My anger flares. I sit bolt upright. “Are you insane? Can’t you see I’m sleeping?” “Sleep, sleep, sleep! That’s all you do!” he seethes. “It’s dinnertime. Why didn’t you cook?” “I’m not eating.” “I’m not asking if you’re eating. Mom told you to cook. Why didn’t you?” I feign surprise. “Are you deaf or just stupid? I said I’m not eating. Whoever is hungry can cook for themselves.” “You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you? What did my mom ever do to you to deserve this drama? Chloe, don’t push it!” “I am pushing it. What are you going to do about it? Divorce me? Then get the hell out! Go find your precious Lily! Let her come and wait on your whole family, hand and foot.” Mark takes a few deep breaths. “Fine. You don’t cook, the kids can starve too.” I roll my eyes. He always pulls this card. So unoriginal. As we’re arguing, the children come home. Sophie and Leo are nine-year-old twins. The moment he walks in, Leo says, “Mom, why are you fighting with Dad again? Can’t you just be quiet for once?” Sophie nods in agreement. “Yeah, Mom, you’re being really loud. And you didn’t even pick me and Leo up from school today.” Mark’s face is grim. “Look at the state of your mother. Don’t you ever turn out like her. A classless shrew with no manners.” I almost choke on my own rage. I look at the two children I gave birth to, my eyes cold. Genetics are a powerful thing. Leo and Sophie have perfectly inherited the selfish streak of the Lee family. All they ever see is me, shouting and screaming. And every single time, they take Mark’s side. In my last life, when I was on my deathbed, their first thought was how to get rid of me, not how to get me to a doctor. I finally see it clearly. A husband like this? Children like these? I’d rather have none at all. I force a smile. “Alright, alright. I won’t fight with your dad anymore. Now, hurry up and take him out of here. I have a headache today. You two don’t bother me either.” The two little ones exchange a confused look, wondering why I’ve suddenly given in. Mark glares at me. “The kids are home. What are you still doing in bed? I told you to make dinner.” I completely ignore him. He raises his voice. “Chloe, did you hear me?!” He continues to shout when I don’t respond. “Are you deaf? I told you to go and cook! How long are you going to keep this up? I already told you I was just having a normal chat with a student. Why are you being so controlling? What will people think of me?” I sit up and gesture for the children to come closer. When Sophie and Leo are beside me, I say, “See? I’m not arguing now. It’s your father who’s yelling. Can you two please make him be quiet? He’s supposed to be a professor, but he has no self-control. Don’t be like him when you grow up. He’s acting like a lunatic.” The twins look up at Mark. “Dad, please stop fighting.” My mother-in-law bursts into the room, shoving the children aside. “What do you two know? Your father is just disciplining his wife.” Sophie, pushed off balance, falls to the floor and starts wailing. My mother-in-law shoots me a look from her beady, triangular eyes. “What are you crying for, you useless girl? All you do is cry. Did someone in this house die?” If this were the past, I would have rushed over, scooped Sophie into my arms, and started a screaming match with her mother. But not now. I’m not that stupid anymore. In the past, it only took a few words from my mother-in-law to win them over, making them forget everything. They’d even tell me to be more forgiving. Now, without my protection, let’s see if they still remember how “good” their grandmother is. Mark frowns at his mother. “That’s enough, Mom. Just go and make dinner.” Her eyes widen. “Me? What’s she doing then?” Mark sighs, exasperated. “She’s not feeling well today. You can cook this once.” I watch my mother-in-law with a cold smile. See? If your heart is hard enough, anything is possible. After she leaves, Mark leads the children out of the room. I call after him, “Don’t forget the courthouse tomorrow. To sign the papers.” Mark whips his head around. “Fine. Let’s go. Just don’t you regret it.” That night, I do nothing. My mother-in-law clatters and bangs around the kitchen, cursing under her breath as she cooks. She curses me, and she curses the children. I don’t help with their homework either. Mark has no choice but to do it himself. I can hear his roars of frustration from my room. It’s almost funny. When I used to help them, everyone said I had a bad temper and was a poor teacher. Now that it’s Mark’s turn, his mother doesn’t dare say a word. After what feels like an eternity, the kids are finally bathed. Then, my father-in-law starts banging his bamboo cane on the floor. It’s a special tool my mother-in-law made for him. Whenever he needs something, he bangs it, and I’m expected to come running. Tonight, of course, I’m not going anywhere. “Chloe, hurry up! Your father soiled himself! Get in here and clean him up!” “Did you hear me? Are you dead in there?!” My mother-in-law is pounding on my door so hard the frame is shaking. I walk out and state calmly, “Mark and I are getting a divorce. I have no obligation to take care of him. Mark is the dutiful son. Go find him.” “You black-hearted witch! It was the worst day of Mark’s life when he married you!” I retort coolly, “Regret it? Good. Then hurry up with the divorce. There are plenty of women lining up to marry your son.” It feels so good. Unwilling to make Mark do it, my mother-in-law has to clean up her husband herself, grumbling and cursing the whole time. The pulling and lifting and cleaning of his mess leaves her exhausted. The next morning, I get up and get dressed. I hear my mother-in-law complaining in the kitchen. “Son, are you really going to divorce her? My old bones were killing me last night. Who’s going to do all the housework?” “Don’t worry, Mom. I’m just scaring her with the divorce. Even after we sign, there’s a thirty-day cooling-off period, right? She’ll back out for sure. You’ll just have to tough it out for a while. Let her see that the house runs just fine without her.”
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