Reborn in the Wreckage
On the day of the car accident, my husband abandoned our bleeding son in the wreckage. He sprinted toward the other car, which was driven by Chloe Vance—his childhood sweetheart and the very person who had caused the crash.
I rushed to the hospital. Just as I was frantically trying to handle the admission procedures, a doctor informed me that my son had already been taken to the operating room.
"The boy's already in the OR, ma'am. Dr. Chloe Vance is performing the surgery. Your husband signed off on it an hour ago."
By the time I burst into the recovery room, it was already over. The sheets lay perfectly flat where my son's legs should have been.
I was completely shattered.
When my husband found me clawing at the sterile floor tiles, screaming, "How could you choose her over our child?!" he hauled me up by the collar and shoved me hard to the ground.
"If Chloe hadn't operated, our son would be dead!" he spat, his breath hot with contempt. "You ungrateful bitch—always questioning me! You're an embarrassment!"
On the day our son took his own life, consumed by severe depression after the amputation, I brought a knife to my husband and his sweetheart's candlelit dinner. We all perished together.
But then, in the blink of an eye, I was back on the day of the accident.
"Honey, school orientation is important," my husband, Arthur, sighed as he fiddled with our son Leo's tie. "You can always make more money, but you'll regret missing our son's critical moments when you're older."
Because I worked day and night to provide for us, Arthur had been the one to raise Leo since infancy. I stared at the familiar frown lines on his face. He was a stay-at-home dad, a man everyone mocked as a spineless freeloader. Out of pity, I usually let him have his way on matters both big and small.
But now I knew the truth. His devotion was nothing more than a stage play. To him, we were just obstacles standing in the way of his reunion with Chloe Vance.
Memories flashed through my mind: the hollow look in Leo's eyes before he died, the glint of the knife, Arthur's choked gasp.
My nails dug into my palms. "You're right," I said, forcing a sugary sweetness into my voice. "I'll go with you two."
Arthur gaped at me. My sudden agreement had clearly derailed his script. He let out an awkward laugh. "Good, as long as you agree."
As we approached the car, Leo, who usually kept to himself, tugged gently at my sleeve.
"Mom should drive," he said, shooting a meaningful glance at Arthur. "Dad can navigate."
My heart skipped a beat as I met my son's gaze. He offered me a subtle, knowing smile. The look we shared confirmed everything—we had both been reborn.
In our past life, the accident happened while Leo was in the passenger seat. The impact crushed him so severely that his legs had only the slimmest chance of recovery. Because Arthur delayed the critical window for treatment, Leo's legs had to be amputated.
This time, Arthur buckled himself into that cursed passenger seat. I couldn't wait to see if he would still be able to fawn over his precious sweetheart.
...
The collision roared like a dying beast. Metal shrieked, and shattered glass rained down around us.
"Leo?!" I whirled around, my heart slamming against my ribs. Even though I had taken precautions, the instinctual worry of a mother still gripped me.
"I'm okay," my son breathed, his eyes laser-focused on the space behind me. "Go check on Dad."
I turned. Arthur hung limp in the crumpled ruins of his seat, a jagged steel rod speared directly through his thigh. Bright, stark blood seeped rapidly through his khaki pants.
A guttural sound escaped my son. It wasn't fear—it was pure satisfaction.
Our gazes locked, and we both smiled amidst the wreckage.
We stepped over spilled groceries and sharp shrapnel, making our way toward Chloe's car. Her airbag had deflated, revealing her paper-white face through the spiderwebbed windshield.
"Chloe Vance?" I tapped lightly on her window. "Goodness, what a small world! I didn't expect to see you here, though I suppose Arthur mentioned you had moved back."
I paused, letting the words hang. "That was a hell of a crash. Are you okay?"
Her knuckles blanched as she gripped the steering wheel. "Why are you here? I thought Arthur was driving Leo to school?"
Ah. What an interesting choice of words. The implication that she knew his exact schedule was unmistakable.
In my last life, suffocating grief had drowned out any suspicion. But this time? I was going to dig deeper. I had a feeling there were some delightful surprises waiting for me to uncover.