Letting You Die

My husband was a saintDor at least, he wanted everyone to believe he was.

To maintain his image of being a kind, selfless man in front of his first love, he forgave the hit-and-run driver who had sent me flying.

He didn't do it on purpose, Zane said, sighing with fake compassion. If Lyra hadn't been wandering around in the middle of the night, this wouldn't have happened.

But he forgot that the only reason I was out was because he had a sudden heart attack, and I had risked everything to get him medicine.

I watched as he and his first love embraced.

"You're so kind," she cooed. "It must have been so hard for you, living all these years with a heartless woman who has no empathy for others."

They stood there, two souls in love, while I died in a cold hospital bed because my husband refused to pay for my treatment.

Then, I opened my eyes.

I was back. It was the night before Zane's heart attack.

"It hurts... so much..."

The familiar, pathetic groaning hit my ears, making me bolt upright in bed.

I looked around the room in a daze, my heart hammering against my ribs.

My gaze landed on Zane Miller, who was writhing on the floor, clutching his chest and twisting in agony.

The memories of my past life surged forward, and I frantically lifted my nightgown to check my body.

I was whole. No scars, no broken bones.

I had been reborn.

Seeing that I wasn't moving, Zane's voice cracked with a sudden, sharp edge.

"I'm talking to you! Can't you hear me? I'm in so much pain, and you're just sitting there?"

He glared at me, his face pale. "How can you be so cold-blooded and heartless?"

Cold-blooded?

I almost burst out laughing at the irony.

He didn't think he was heartless when he let my killer go free.

He didn't think he was heartless when he let me rot in a hospital bed to save a few bucks.

But now, because I didn't rush to his side the second he whimpered, I was the monster?

He truly was the king of double standards.

I remembered lying in that hospital bed in my previous life, the pain so intense I thought I'd black out.

I had begged him a thousand times to start the treatment, or I would die.

But he just stood there, hands in his pockets, looking at me with pure disgust.

"Can you stop being so malicious?" he had said. "We aren't rich. How can we afford this?"

He had looked me in the eye and asked, "Do you want that poor, innocent driver to go bankrupt just to pay your medical bills? What about his family?"

I had felt my soul wither away in that bed.

I knew our bank accounts better than anyone; we had more than enough saved for my surgery.

He just didn't want to save me.

With me dead, he could finally be with his precious Selena Quinn without any guilt.

The driver's family was just a convenient excuse.

Thinking of this, a wave of cold, sharp hatred washed over me.

I narrowed my eyes at his weak, trembling form and slowly stood up.

He expected me to kneel beside him like I always did, sobbing and asking what he needed.

He gave me a haughty, expectant look.

"That's better," he wheezed. "Your soul is so filthy. Only by staying with me can you be purified."

He actually had the nerve to add, "You should be thanking me forD"

I didn't let him finish.

I raised my foot and slammed it down onto his chest with everything I had.

To make sure he felt it, I ground my heel into him, twisting it back and forth.

I only pulled back once I saw his face contort in genuine, screaming pain.

Touching him at all made my skin crawl.

He was stunned. The "meek and gentle" wife he knew had just committed an act of violence.

He stared at me, his mouth hanging open, unable to find words.

I hated that smug, self-righteous face of his.

I grabbed him by the collar and delivered two sharp, ringing slaps across his cheeks.

That seemed to snap him out of it.

"Are you freaking crazy!" he yelled, clutching his face. "You hit me! I'm going to divorce you, I swear to God!"

I just stood up and dusted off my hands with a shrug.

I walked over to the closet, grabbed my pre-packed suitcase, and headed for the door.

I stopped at the threshold and looked back at him one last time.

"You've got it backwards, you idiot," I said coldly. "I'm the one dumping you."

I flashed him a jagged smile.

"Have fun dying in this house all by yourself."

I didn't look back as I walked out into the night.

Wasn't it a heart attack?

I wanted to see how he'd survive this time without his "worthless" wife running to buy him medicine.

On my first day in my new apartment, I sprawled out on the sofa.

The air was fresh, free from the stench of that hypocrite, and the world felt beautiful.

In my past life, I was obsessed with the idea of the "pure, kind boy" I had known in high school.

I thought he was the most selfless person on the planet.

Because of that, I gave him everything, never asking for a single thing in return.

But now that the scales had fallen from my eyes, I saw Zane for exactly what he was: a piece of trash.

I had been blinded by love.

But now?

Whoever wants to serve him can have him. I'm done.

I was just settling in to watch some TV when my phone started buzzing incessantly.

It was an unknown number.

Thinking it might be an urgent call from work, I picked it up.

Selena Quinn's sweet, sugary voice immediately filled my ear.

"Lyra? Where are you? How can you be so heartless and cruel?"

She sounded like she was lecturing a child. "You actually hit Zane and left him while he was having a medical emergency? How can a woman be so evil?"

I felt my eye twitch. Since when did the mistress have the right to lecture the wife?

Had she lost her mind?

I figured Zane had been quiet after I blocked him because he was dead.

Turns out he had just crawled to his darling Selena instead.

What a disappointment.

I was really hoping I'd be a widow by now.

Before I could even get a word in, Zane's voice boomed in the background, full of righteous indignation.

"I tried so hard to teach her about kindness, but she's beyond help! I'm so disappointed in her!"

He sighed loudly. "Selena, don't even try to talk me out of it. I'm divorcing that woman!"

Selena pretended to protest, her voice dripping with fake concern.

"Oh, don't say that in anger! She's just confused. Lyra, you need to come here right now and apologize."

She continued, "Zane is so much better than you. He's so kind, I'm sure he'll forgive you if you take care of him."

Then came the kicker. "By the way, I paid his hospital deposit. It was three thousand dollars. You need to pay me back immediately."

I listened to them playing their little roles, realizing their only goal was my money.

I rubbed my temples and spoke into the phone with a voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Oh dear! What should I do? Selena, I'm sure a saint like Zane doesn't want to see a 'wicked' woman like me."

I chuckled. "A sick person needs a peaceful environment. Since you're so caring and kind, the job of nursing him belongs to you!"

They didn't expect that answer. Selena's voice turned sharp.

She had no intention of actually being a full-time nurse; she wanted to be the "noble friend" while I did the dirty work.

Plus, she was clearly stingy with her own money and wanted that three thousand back.

I didn't give her a chance to argue.

"As for the money, well, you know how it is. All the household funds are in my husband's accounts."

I smiled to myself. "Just ask him for it. Don't bother me. I have a job to get to. Bye!"

I hung up immediately, cutting off their protests.

I could perfectly imagine their shocked expressions.

But why should I care?

They loved playing the "kind angels" while stepping on me.

I wanted to see if their love would hold up after forty-eight hours of cleaning up bedpans and paying bills.

The thought alone made me giddy.

The cracks in their "pure love" appeared much faster than I anticipated.

Zane's condition was serious enough that he couldn't even get out of bed to use the bathroom.

In my previous life, I had worked myself to the bone like a servant while they enjoyed the fruits of my labor.

Now that the "idiot" was gone, Selena had to do everything herself.

Not only did she have to handle the dirty work, but she also had to dip into her own savings for his medication.

Zane had one defining trait above all else.

He grew up poor and was absolutely obsessed with money.

He'd give you his "love" for free, but his cash?

Forget it. He'd sooner die than part with a penny.

After just two days of looking at mounting hospital bills, Selena finally snapped.

She stormed into my office, looking like a crazed woman, and slammed the invoices onto my desk.

"Lyra Vance! How can you be such a shameless woman!" she shrieked.

"Your husband is suffering in the hospital, and you don't even care? You won't even pick up your phone!"

She was gasping for air. "Is your heart made of stone? Do you even have human emotions?"

It was clear Selena hadn't slept. Zane was likely demanding constant massages and gourmet meals.

She had been catering to him like a personal butler and hadn't even found time to eat or shower.

Her skin was sallow, her hair was a greasy mess, and she smelled faintly of sweat and hospital disinfectant.

Where was the "ethereal beauty" Zane loved so much?

I covered my nose and took a step back, looking at her with disgust.

"You said it yourself, Selena. I'm a heartless woman. Why come to me?"

I leaned back against my desk. "Besides, every time I took care of him in the past, he'd run off to go on dates with you the second he felt better. Did you think I didn't see the Instagram posts?"

Her face turned a shade of ugly purple as I called out their secret.

She tried to play it off immediately. "What are you talking about? We have a pure, platonic friendship! You're just twisted and dirty-minded!"

I smiled, reached into my desk drawer, and pulled out a set of divorce papers.

As she stared at them in shock, I spoke calmly.

"Fine. We're not the same kind of people. If you think going to hotels together is just 'friendship,' then I have nothing left to say."

I pushed the papers toward her. "Give these to him. Tell him to sign, or I'll make sure he leaves this marriage with absolutely nothing."

Selena panicked. "How can you abandon him while he's sick? You're disgusting!"

I grabbed a stack of photos from the drawer and threw them at her.

They were high-quality shots of them hugging, kissing, and walking into a Marriott together.

Their faces were clear, their "friendship" on full display.

Selena's eyes went red. She grabbed the photos and tore them into shreds, screaming.

She was desperate to keep the "shameful" reality of their affair hidden.

But did she really think I only had one copy?

I leaned in and whispered, "I'll say this once. Those are the evidence of his infidelity."

I hardened my voice. "If he wants to leave this with any dignity, he'll sign. Otherwise, I'll send a copy of these to every single one of your relatives and friends so they can witness your 'pure friendship.'"

Selena looked like she wanted to lung at my throat.

But the security guards I had called were already behind her.

They grabbed her by the arms and dragged her out without a word.

Her screams echoed all the way down the hallway.

A week after I served the papers, Zane actually had the nerve to sue me.

He charged me with invasion of privacy and "intentional neglect leading to harm."

The privacy charge was because of the photos I took of him and his "soulmate."

In court, he was so agitated that spit was flying from his mouth.

"I know I made a mistake!" he shouted. "But does that make her innocent? She hired someone to stalk me!"

He pounded his fist on the table. "She trampled on my dignity! I am a good, kind man!"

He even squeezed out a few fake tears, trying to look like the victim.

Even my lawyer looked like he wanted to gag.

The judge looked at me, asking for my response.

I was prepared. I crossed my legs and gave a soft, sad sigh.

"Your Honor, how can he call it stalking? I was just out for a jog when I saw them."

I wiped an imaginary tear. "I thought someone was impersonating my husband, so I took photos to show him. I never thought he'd be so cruel as to accuse me of this."

Zane's face turned bright red, and he started swearing at me right there in the courtroom.

The man had zero emotional control.

The judge ruled quickly: since I didn't use the photos for profit, there was no invasion of privacy.

Seeing his first plan fail, Zane played his trump card.

He began a tearful monologue about how painful his heart attack was and how I had just "abandoned" him.

He claimed that by not calling 911, I had committed a crime.

The courtroom went silent.

My lawyer leaned over and whispered, "Is he for real? He cheats on you and expects you to be his personal paramedic?"

I stood up and cleared my throat, looking at the judge.

"Before I left that night, I asked him repeatedly if he needed help. He refused every time."

I put on my best "wronged wife" face. "He pushed me away and told me to get out so he could call his... 'good friend.' I left because I didn't want to upset him further. How can he lie like this?"

I sat down and hid my face in a handkerchief to hide the fact that I was grinning.

The judge wasn't an idiot.

The ruling was swift. I won.

The judge saw through the nonsense: Zane was a cheater who was just mad that his wealthy, beautiful wife was leaving him with nothing.

When the verdict was read, Zane had a complete meltdown.

He started screaming that the judge and my lawyer were on my payroll.

He only shut up when the bailiff threatened to throw him in a cell.

As I grabbed my bag to leave, he suddenly called out my name.

"Lyra... can we please not do this?"

The arrogance was gone. He sounded like a kicked puppy.

In my past life, this look would have made me cave instantly.

But I had already died for this man once.

I gave him a polite, cold smile.

"Zane, don't you get it? I don't love you anymore. I'm never coming back."

His eyes went dark, full of a hollow, pathetic desperation.

I didn't stick around to watch him cry.