In the dead of night, at two o'clock in the morning, my husband, Henry Smith, who claimed to be working overtime, found himself stranded without a taxi and called upon me to pick him up.
Unsuspecting, I drove to the desolate spot he had indicated. In the eerie silence, I searched for his familiar face but found none.
Instead, a homeless man loomed in the shadows. His gaze was filled with malice, sending shivers down my spine.
Panic rose within me as I frantically texted my husband, pleading for his whereabouts.
His reply was swift. Henry: [Don't be afraid. You'll see me when you step out.]
Yet, the moment I did, a blow from behind plunged me into darkness.
When consciousness returned, my husband furiously stood over me, with his phone capturing the moment with a homeless man leering beside me.
He accused me of cheating on him, and with those photographs as his weapon, he filed for divorce, stripping me of everything, including the custody of our child.
On the day our marriage ended, he sold our home, pocketing every penny to start anew in a lavish villa.
I watched him wrap his arms around a stunningly attired woman as they glided into the opulent villa. A pang of realization struck me.
What happened that night was a meticulously planned scheme.
***
My eyes fluttered open to the dim glow of the clock reading 1:50 a.m.
Beside me, my three-year-old daughter, Poppy, slept peacefully. I was back in our cozy, loving home, a sanctuary that time had seemingly rewound.
Only then did I realize that I was reborn, given a chance to rewrite my fate.
I pressed my fingers firmly against my temples, trying to massage away the confusion as I summoned the last clear memory.
I had been nothing but obedient, following Henry's instructions to pick him up in the wee hours.
The road stretched out into a remote abyss, devoid of even the faintest glow of a streetlight. Darkness enveloped everything. My only beacon in this sea of night was the harsh, revealing beam of car headlights cutting through the void.
A homeless man emerged from the shadows. His clothes hung in tatters, and his eyes, glinting with a mix of desperation and malice, fixed upon me with an unsettling intensity.
Fear had rooted me to my seat, so I dared not step out but texted Henry.
His response came back in an instant.
Henry: [Don't fear, Nicole. You'll see me the moment you step out of the car.]
Yet, as I alighted from the vehicle, the door left swinging in my wake, and a sudden, excruciating pain erupted at the crown of my head.
The world around me spiraled into darkness before consciousness slipped from my grasp.
As consciousness returned, I was sprawled in disarray upon the icy embrace of the earth. Beside me lay the homeless man. His smile was twisted into something lewd and unsettling.
With a lewd grin, he began to inch closer. His hand reached out with a sinister intent to touch me.
In that harrowing moment, Henry stumbled upon the scene. He whipped out his cell phone, capturing what he perceived as my infidelity.
He spat out his words with an icy venom, "Nicole Blake! Are you so desperately horny? I work late one night, and you throw yourself into the arms of just any man!"
The putrid stench wafting from the homeless man assaulted my senses.
My stomach twisted into knots. With a surge of overwhelming sickness, I threw out.
No matter how I protested my innocence, Henry was deaf to my pleas.
With the photographic evidence clenched in his hand like a weapon, he marched into the lawyer's office that very same day, initiating the legal battle to divorce me.
"Nicole Blake! You've deceived me, and for that, you shall be cast from this house!"
True to his venomous promise, he cast me out into the world without a penny to my name. But his retribution did not end there; with a heart as cold as winter, he also stripped me of my daughter, leaving me bereft of both home and heart.
Stripped of everything, I was engulfed by an ocean of tears. Yet, the thought of leaving my daughter was a pain too great to bear.
My only solace was to linger like a shadow at the kindergarten gate, where I could steal fleeting glimpses of her.
I witnessed the woman, Selena George, who was mistreating my daughter.
Selena George was the one whom Henry held close in his arms.
On the very day our divorce was sealed, I witnessed that Henry sold the home where we once whispered promises and pocketed every cent, only to vanish into the luxury of a private villa.
That opulent villa, it turned out, was none other than Selena's domain.
On that sorrowful afternoon, Poppy, not heeding Selena's command, was met with a sharp slap that echoed through the crowd.
Poppy, just a tender three years of age, was left inconsolable after the blow. In a fit of impatience, Selena seized the weeping Poppy with a deliberate roughness, tossing her into the car and then heartlessly casting her out onto the pavement.
Poppy's small head met the unforgiving ground with a thud, and from the wound, a crimson stream began to flow.
I was so mad!
In a desperate surge, I lunged forward to reclaim my daughter, but a rogue car, ignoring the red light, surged forth with lethal speed, striking me with such force that I was hurled through the air and finally landed several feet away.
As life ebbed away from me, the final image seared into my soul was of my beloved Poppy, trying to stem the blood from her wounded head with her hand as her cry pierced through the chaos. She called out for me.
Following my tragic end, Henry, once my husband, assumed control over my remains. With a detached resolve, he had me cremated.
"Purchasing a cemetery plot is far too costly. Why not simply find some arbitrary spot and scatter her ashes there?"
His voice, laced with an indifference that chilled me to the core, echoed in my mind. I hardly believed he was the man I had vowed to spend my life with and the one whose side I had left only in sleep.
2In the aftermath of my demise, I believed my soul would wander aimlessly, forever tethered to my daughter's side.
The day my daughter was injured, Henry rushed her to the hospital. Her condition, thankfully, was not grave.
I lingered around the hospital.
In the deep silence of the night, a luminous white light appeared, and from within its glow, an elderly woman emerged.
Her smile was warm and comforting. "Your earthly bonds remain unresolved. Your wrongs have yet to be righted. This is not the time for reincarnation. You must go back."
Upon awakening, I was inexplicably transported back to an era before the divorce cleaved my world apart. The life I had lived seemed like an ephemeral dream. I found myself once again by my daughter's side.
Tears of joy streamed down my face as I held my daughter tightly.
If God had granted me a rebirth, I vowed not to let the villains triumph. Henry would pay for his sins.
The clock struck two in the morning, the hour when destiny's wheel began to turn.
My phone rang.
As expected, it must be Henry who requested a ride home from his alleged overtime work.
I answered the call with a sneer as his tired voice filled the line.
"Nicole, I've just wrapped up a project inspection with a client. It's in a remote area, and I can't seem to find a taxi. Could you come pick me up?"
His tone was imperious and unchanged from my previous life.
In my past existence, I had naively believed his excuse that he was genuinely unable to hail a taxi and that he was helplessly ensnared by circumstance.
I couldn't stand the thought of him spending the entire night out in the cold, so I threw on some clothes and drove to the spot he had mentioned. I was ready to scoop him up into the warmth of my car and bring him back to the safety of home.
But to my utter shock, it was revealed to be an intricate web of deceit designed by him and Selena.
He had knocked me unconscious the moment I stepped out of the car.
He also paid the homeless man to stage an act of violation.
Before Henry, the homeless man assaulted me, crafting a cruel illusion of my infidelity, all to furnish Henry with the fabricated proof of my supposed betrayal.
I had been a fool.
As I remained silent, Henry tentatively questioned, "Hello? Nicole, are you there?"
I was about to respond.
Suddenly, a soft yet startlingly clear voice, unmistakably feminine, broke the silence with its gentle whisper.
"If she doesn't come, then..."
The sentence hung in the air, unfinished.
"Who are you with?" I asked Henry.
His reply was tinged with guilt, "I'm alone. You must've misheard. I was just watching a video."
I scoffed, feigning agreement. "Alright, wait for me. I'm coming to get you."
Henry seemed relieved.
Relief washed over his voice, softening his tone.
"Okay, I'll wait for you here."
3After disconnecting the call, I silenced my phone, tossed it aside, and cocooned myself in the comfort of the blankets. My daughter was nestled close. Sleep claimed us once more.
Pick him up? Not a chance.
This time, my focus was singular: to shield my daughter and myself from harm.
Half an hour later, my phone buzzed incessantly.
Yet, sleep held me in its gentle grasp.
Dawn broke, and I awoke to the natural light, refreshed. After the morning rituals, I checked my phone.
Eighty-seven missed calls from Henry lit up my screen, accompanied by an avalanche of text messages.
He demanded my whereabouts, questioning my delay.
Eventually, his frustration and embarrassment fused into anger, and in one heated text, he lashed out with curses. Henry: [Are you fucking messing with me?]
I pondered his words, struggling to reconcile this man with the tender husband I once knew.
It was a stark reminder: people could wear masks.
Love could be feigned.
After breakfast, I crafted a reply to Henry.
Nicole: [I'm sorry. My car broke down on my way to you. It's only just been fixed. Where are you now? Should I come to get you?]
Daylight now bathed the world.
Even the remote road would be alive with activity.
The likelihood of him lashing out at me once more seemed nearly insurmountable.
As expected, Henry swiftly replied. Henry: [No need. I've managed to hail a taxi.]
A smile played on my lips as I set the phone down.
Henry wouldn't be coming home just yet.
He sent yet another message, informing me that there were matters at the company demanding his attention, and only after wrestling with those would he make his way back home.
Ignoring his excuses, I ventured downstairs to the supermarket, where I purchased two cameras and two voice recorders.
The cameras were strategically placed in the living room and bedroom, and their feeds were linked directly to my phone.
The recorders, one in my bag, the other in my pocket, were my constant companions, ready to capture any evidence.
Not content with passive measures, I reached out to a private detective, Jerry Short, offering a substantial sum for his services.
His mission was clear: to watch the private villa and document any intimate moments between Henry and Selena.
This was my new battlefield, and Henry was my adversary.
I would ensure he left this house with nothing but disgrace.
4Upon Henry's return, I was perched atop a stool to delicately remove the wedding photograph that had once proudly hung at the heart of our bedroom.
The moment his eyes caught my action, a frown of displeasure creased his brow.
"It's perfectly fine where it is. Why are you taking it down?"
His voice, laced with impatience, reached my ears as I steadfastly refused to turn and face him.
"It's gathered dust. I thought to clean it," I replied.
The wedding photo slipped from my grasp, crashing to the floor and fracturing into two pieces.
My gaze lifted to meet Henry's, only to find him casting an impatient glance in my direction. "You're clumsy! If it's broken, just throw it away."
Turning on his heel, he strode towards the bathroom with a towel in his hand.
Indeed, I had let it fall on purpose.
I yearned to witness how Henry would react to the shattering of our wedding photo.
As expected, his indifference was palpable.
Bending down, I gathered the broken shards of our wedding photo, preparing to discard them in the trash can downstairs.
Yet, as I did, memories flooded back unbidden.
To capture that perfect set of wedding photos, I had endured days without sustenance, starving myself until I shed three kilograms, all for the sake of fitting into that exquisite wedding gown.
Henry had been unable to tear his eyes away. "Nicole, you are so beautiful. I will always love you and protect you."
During our courtship, my family was mired in poverty. To support them, I worked tirelessly, taking on odd jobs by night.
One fateful night, as I made my way home in the dead of night, I was accosted by the sudden appearance of a thug. My refusal to comply resulted in a brutal beating.
I was assaulted with such ferocity that I ended up in the hospital with a fractured bone. The news reached Henry, who, in the midst of his game, cast everything aside. With urgency in his steps, he rushed to my side at the hospital.
His eyes were rimmed with red, and his body trembled with fury.
He berated himself for not being there to protect me.
I laughed off his words, calling him a fool. After all, he hadn't been with me during those part-time jobs, and beyond the physical harm, I was fine. I wondered why he carried the weight of guilt upon his shoulders.
Yet, Henry shook his head vehemently. The towering boy of six feet broke down in tears.
He knelt by my bedside, clasping my hand with a fervor promise.
"Nicole, no more night work. I'll provide for you. I'll give you all the scholarships and all the living expenses I earn!"
At that moment, his love for me was undeniable.
He lived sparingly, even forgoing breakfast during the leanest times while lying to me that he had already eaten.
It was then that I resolved to marry him.
Yet, the only constant in this world was change. People's hearts were the most fickle of all.
Perhaps, in his wildest dreams, Henry could never have envisioned the turn our lives would take five years hence.
Five years later, driven by the lure of a wealthy woman, he orchestrated a despicable plot, framing a homeless man to tarnish my innocence and resorting to any means necessary to divorce me.
All those vows of eternal love were scattered by the winds of time.
We could never reclaim the innocence and love that once defined us.
5As Henry retreated to the shower, his cell phone lay abandoned on the living room's coffee table.
An invisible force seemed to draw me towards it.
In five years of marriage, I had never once snooped through his phone, a testament to the trust I believed should exist between partners.
But that trust had been shattered the moment he chose to harm me.
I unlocked the phone, and my eyes were immediately drawn to a pinned chat labeled "Ms. George."
The latest exchange was a chilling revelation.
Henry: [Failed.]
Ms. George: [Henry, if you wish to join my family, you must prove your sincerity.]
Henry: [I'll file for divorce as soon as possible. Just let her go, alright?]
A voice message from the other end dripped with disdain, "I want to see your sincerity, not just in loving me but in not loving her. I want her to suffer. Do you understand?"
My fists clenched involuntarily.
The depth of their deceit was staggering.
Their affair had begun a year ago at a cocktail party. Selena, smitten with Henry, had orchestrated a drug-induced one-night stand with Henry.
Since then, she had held this over him, summoning him at her whim.
Gripped by the dread that I might uncover his affair with Selena, Henry had reluctantly complied.
After a year of being entangled in the relationship with Selena, Henry fell for her. He even harbored thoughts of severing his marital bonds with me for her.
When I read the final message, a chill was settled in my heart.
Henry: [I understand.]
The cascade of water from the bathroom ceased abruptly. With a surge of panic, I hastily returned the phone to its original place.
As if on cue, a fresh message blinked into existence on my screen.
It was a warning from Jerry. Jerry: [Don't attend the dance in three days. They're plotting against you.]
My heart raced.
Henry's ominous "I understand" echoed in my mind.
In my past life, they had succeeded in destroying my innocence and reputation through a homeless man.
This time, I had evaded their scheme, only to find a larger one looming.
Henry emerged with a bathrobe clinging to his muscular frame. His hair was damp.
He exuded an allure of maturity and confidence.
"Nicole."
He addressed me nonchalantly while towel-drying his hair.
"There's a dance party in three days. The company insists on family attendance. It's been a while since you've been to such an event. You'll accompany me, won't you?"
6I couldn't resist the urge to gaze up at Henry.
His expression as he extended the invitation betrayed nothing out of the ordinary.
Had Jerry not tipped me off through that fateful text message, I might never have suspected the deceit laced within his words.
He was inviting me to a ball three days hence, under the guise of a company obligation, when in truth, it was a meticulously planned trap.
I studied Henry for a while before a smile played on my lips. "Alright. I'll go."
Henry was engrossed in work in his study as I fabricated a story about taking our child to the playground.
"I'm meeting Janice later. I might be home late, so don't wait for me for dinner."
"Sure. Take your time," he replied, seeing me off at the door.
No sooner had I left than Henry was absorbed in sending a message.
Half an hour later, Selena appeared at our doorstep.
From the playground, through the cold eye of the surveillance camera, I watched with piercing clarity as the two of them, unable to resist the pull of their emotions, embraced tightly before making their way to the bedroom.
My best friend, Janice Moore, watched the scene unfold and offered to help me exact my revenge.
"Keep that video safe. You've got a dance to attend in three days. My brother will be there; I'll have him assist you!"
Leaving my daughter in Janice's capable hands, I spent the day in a daze when the high-definition video from the bedroom was on constant replay.
It was no wonder Henry had always claimed fatigue, rebuffing any sex with me this past year.
He had been giving himself to another.
Three days had passed, and the evening of the ball had finally arrived. I slipped into the orange-yellow dress that Henry had selected for me. As I stepped out to join him, I was transformed into a luminous figure of elegance and allure.
Upon seeing me, Selena approached with a smile, raising her glass in a toast.
"You must be Mrs. Smith. Henry often speaks of you. You're even more beautiful in person!"
Beneath her veil of insincere compliments, I detected a hint of jealousy and a whiff of scheming.
After a few drinks, Selena offered to help me to a room upstairs, citing my apparent dizziness.
"Mrs. Smith, please, rest well!"
She locked the door behind her as she left.
I stumbled, on the verge of falling. But a pair of hands steadied me. There was someone else in the room!
Suddenly, my gaze lifted, and at that unexpected moment, I found a man before me!
Downstairs, the surveillance video began its silent accusation on the big screen, drawing all eyes.
A voice pierced through the murmur of the crowd. Someone gasped in astonishment and pointed toward the vast screen.
"Look! Isn't that Henry's wife?"
"Yes. Why is she in a room with another man? What's going on?"