After My Rebirth, I Discovered My Wife's Shocking Secrets

"Didn't you promise to spend Christmas at our house this year? How can a grown man like you go back on his word?" My wife's constant nagging pierced through my skull, a relentless migraine pounding at my temples.

I thought, "Was I not dead? Could this be a haunting echo of life after death?"

With a weary blink, I found myself staring into the furious visage of my wife, Cathy Bruce, whose face was contorted with the ferocity of her reprimand. Beside her, our son, Paul Manson, chimed in sporadically, his words adding fuel to the fire.

Was I reborn?

There wasn't time to ponder the mystery of my resurrection.

I vowed, "This time, I won't stand idly by as my parents meet their tragic end again."

"Why the quarrel? We agreed, long before we married, that we would rotate the holidays, spending each Christmas as a united family." My voice, tinged with irritation, cut through the din.

Cathy and I, both only children, had pledged before our wedding that we would alternate our Christmas celebrations, either hosting both sets of parents or visiting them in turn. Yet, year after year, Cathy found reasons to whisk our son and me back to her family, leaving my parents bereft for eight long years. Paul was now six, but I hadn't celebrated a single Christmas with my own parents since our marriage.

"Fine. Benjamin Manson, you dare raise your voice at me, do you?" Cathy's eyes widened in disbelief. Clearly, she hadn't expected resistance from me, or perhaps in her mind, I was too cowed to ever defy her.

"Dad, how could you? I love mom's parents, but I despise yours." Paul's words struck like a dagger.

Seeing his callousness, I found my anger surged.

Cathy had always harbored a deep-seated disdain for my parents despite their former careers as teachers. She deemed them inferior to her own parents, who were retired civil servants. Since the birth of our son, Paul, Cathy had forbidden my parents from so much as laying eyes on their grandson. Fearful of upsetting her, my parents swallowed their grievances, showering her and Paul with gifts instead.

Worse still, in my previous life, my parents died shielding Paul, yet here he was, brazenly declaring his hatred for them.

"Paul, speak ill of your elders again, and you'll face the consequences!" I raised my hand, feigning a strike, though, in all his years, I had never laid a finger on him.

Even as he lamented the bad luck at my parents' funeral in my past life, I knew I had failed as a father.

"Benjamin, why are you berating the child? Are you trying to cause a scene?" Cathy shielded Paul fiercely, as if I, Paul's own father, posed a mortal threat.

I thought, "This mother and son duo were truly beyond reason."

I took a deep breath to handle Cathy with care. I couldn't afford to meet the same fate as my previous life.

"Honey, I need a moment in the bathroom. Please, tend to our son and wait for me." I made my way to the bathroom, a pretext to gather my thoughts. There, I retrieved my phone, switched on the video recorder, and tucked it discreetly into my shirt pocket.

"Cathy, let's discuss this rationally." I emerged, guiding Cathy to the sofa.

"Rationally?" Cathy scoffed and rolled her eyes.

"I was wrong to raise my voice earlier. I apologize. But, dear, before we married, we agreed to share the holidays. For eight years, we've honored your family. It's time my parents saw you and our son. They miss you so much." I softened my tone, striving for calm.

"Your parents miss me? Bullshit! Were it not for our son, I'd disown those two old fogeys." Cathy's confidence in my subservience emboldened her to speak ill of my parents without restraint.

"Cathy, that's going too far. You resented my parents for not attending to you during your postpartum period, yet they continued to shower you and our son with gifts and money. They were educators, yet you never hesitated to belittle them." I kept my cool, reasoning with her.