"You're back?" The words slipped out before I could stop them, my voice even trembling a little.

I didn't expect it-seeing him didn't spark rage, resentment, or even the obsessive love I had in my past life. Instead, I just felt... released.

And honestly, it had been forever since I last saw Ronald in person. He still looked just as sharp-tall, cool, and way too good-looking for his own good. Honestly, even a dead woman like me couldn't deny his looks. But my heart? That thing was long over it.

He gave me a once-over, then glanced at the bowl on the table, his eyes darkening with clear dissatisfaction.

Then he suddenly started walking toward me, giving off that suffocating pressure he always had.

My breath caught, and I instinctively stepped back a couple of paces, watching him warily.

"What are you trying to do?"

The truth is, at this point, we were only in our first year of marriage. He hadn't fully fallen for his so-called true love yet, and I hadn't even done anything wrong. Logically, he shouldn't be too harsh on me.

Still, just those two steps back made one thing very clear-I didn't want to be near him anymore.

Ever since I made up my mind to let everything go, not only did I stop craving his attention, I downright avoided it.

He frowned a bit at that, like he didn't get what I was doing, then curled his lips in a mocking smile.

"Isabella, you pulled out all the stops to get me back, and now you're acting like this? Who's the performance for?"

I blinked. "What are you even talking about?"

Get him back? I would've been happier if he never came at all.

His brows furrowed deeper. Suddenly, he reached out, gripping my chin tight. Those blue eyes of his held a dangerous glint.

"Still pretending? Wasn't it you who teamed up with your cousin to tell me you were dying, just to make me come back?"

Pain shot through me like a bolt. His grip was crushing-I felt like my jaw might break. I tried to slap his hand away.

"I didn't! I had no idea she did that. It must've been her acting on her own."

I used to love him so lowly-on my birthday, holidays, anniversaries, I never once pushed him to come home. Even now, after dying once, there's no way I'd do that.

He scoffed. "Your cousin sticks to you like glue and you didn't know? Come on, Isabella. Quit the games before you push this too far."

Looking at his cold, handsome face twisted in impatience, I couldn't help but laugh bitterly in my head-laugh at myself.

In our last life, our marriage started off as two strangers under one roof. He flat-out ignored me. I tried everything to melt that frozen heart, but the more I tried, the more he pulled away.

When I finally discovered just how deep his feelings ran for someone else, I lost it. Did all sorts of things just to keep him around, and in the end, he couldn't stand me.

I always blamed myself, told myself I wasn't good enough. That's why he didn't love me. But now, in this life, I didn't do a thing. I just came home with a stomachache and made myself a bowl of soup on our anniversary-and he still looked at me like I was a bug.

Turns out, it was never about what I did. He just didn't like me. Period.

I shoved his hand off and stood up straighter, locking eyes with him. And then, for the first time, I said it.

"Ronald, let's get a divorce."

His expression froze, clearly caught off guard. Then his face twisted into a sneer.

"Do you even know what you're saying?"

Of course I did. If I had a choice, I'd rather have been reborn before marrying him.

I glanced down at the calluses on my palm. For him, I gave up everything. From a successful, spoiled young woman to a full-time housewife who did nothing but cook and clean for him.

I poured in everything. Gave up everything. And in the end, I was the only one moved by it."We got married for family reasons, right? You never liked me anyway. So what's the harm in cutting ties and letting each other go?"

His expression turned ice-cold in an instant. He actually snapped, towering over me with that intimidating six-foot-two frame, the pressure almost suffocating.

"You were the one begging to marry me. Teary-eyed in front of Grandpa, going on and on until I had no choice. And now you say you want a divorce? Just like that? What do you take me for?"

He grabbed my chin roughly, his eyes like frozen steel. "Was I just some toy to you, huh?"

Forced to meet his gaze, my heart thudded out of nowhere.

Yeah, it was a political marriage, but let's face it-my family was way below his. If it weren't for the bond between our grandfathers and that childhood engagement, I wouldn't have stood a chance with him.

Ronald was always dead set against arranged marriages. If his grandfather hadn't been sick and forced his hand, I never would've become his wife. So me asking for a divorce now? Yeah, I see how he might be pissed.

"I'm not playing you, I'm serious. I saw that doctor you like. She's beautiful, sweet. You two make a good match. If we split, doesn't that clear your way to be with her?"

I said it on purpose. I wanted to push him a little.

His precious dream girl was leaving the country soon. Once she's gone, he'll realize just how hard he's fallen. He'll go all in-chasing her, fighting for her, not letting go.

And I? I'm the cliché toxic wife from some melodramatic soap opera. I can't repeat my past life mistakes by clinging to someone who doesn't want me.

This time, I check out first, before love screws me over again.

Ronald's expression darkened in a flash. His eyes narrowed in on me. "You saw her? So that's why you're acting so different. What, you trying to blackmail me or something?"

He kept closing in. I backed off fast, heart pounding, 'til I hit the wall with nowhere left to go.

He thought I was using his soft spot against him? That mentioning her was a threat?

I stiffened, quickly shook my head. "Have I ever blackmailed you? In a whole year of marriage? I just want out."

"You're never around, always working late. I've basically been living like a widow. Sure, I liked you-hell, maybe I still do-but I can't be stuck in a marriage like this forever. I don't want to turn eighty and still be a virgin. You ignore the one you've got and won't even go after the one you want. Aren't you tired of living like this? 'Cause watching you, I am."

He braced one arm on the wall beside me, leaning down close. He's got that annoying height-just a tiny tilt of my head and our lips would touch.

Before, I'd probably be ready to faint from excitement. Now? All I feel is dread crowding in.

He clenched his jaw ever so slightly, like he was biting back a snide comment. "So. a lonely widow, huh? Guess you're awfully desperate since I don't touch you."

His words slapped the color right into my face. I blushed hard and hissed, "That's not what I meant!"

In our last life, he couldn't divorce me fast enough. Even when I called him while dying, he ignored me. So this time, I'm telling him I want the divorce-and he's pissed? Thinking up all sorts of crap and dragging it out?

Ronald flicked my chin with long fingers, his gaze flicking across my face before closing the distance.

I went rigid without thinking.

He smirked. That cool, mocking curve of his lips.

"I don't care what you really think. You don't get to just start and stop this marriage like flipping a switch."

"If you're really that lonely, go flirt with someone or get a damn toy and sort yourself out. Just don't make a mess that stains my name, and I don't care what you do."

"Stay away from her. If I ever catch you messing with her, I swear, your life's gonna be hell."

Those words hit like a slap in the face. So that's how he sees me? Just some crazy, jealous woman from the start?

I glared at his cold, handsome face, biting back my bitterness. "Wow, not only are your ears broken, but your brain's probably fried too. If I wanted to hurt her, would I really blow up my own game like that?"

"I'm done arguing with you. Tired, honestly. Just want to make it clear-I'm getting out of this marriage. I'll explain things to Grandpa, won't drag you into it, but you better think this through."

Then I pulled my hand free and went straight upstairs, not even bothering to clean up the dishes.

A loud door slam followed a few beats later. Ronald must've stormed out.

I let out a long, tired sigh. Even after coming back to life, his words still cut deep. Thank god it's just a sting now, not like last time-when it tore me apart.

I downed my medicine and got ready to lie down and clear my head. Just as I settled in, my phone lit up.

It was my mother-in-law. I pressed my lips together and picked up. "Hello? Lisa."

Her loud, energetic voice blasted through. "Isabella, have you been taking those herbal remedies I got you? And the other natural stuff?"

I stared at the pile of untouched herbs in the corner, still wrapped up. "Yep, almost all gone."

Lisa Wright immediately perked up. "Really? Any signs yet? Feeling different? Could be pregnant?"

I sighed. A whole year of marriage and she's been on my back about a baby since day one.

With the divorce around the corner, I really didn't want more drama. "Lisa, pregnancy depends on fate too, right? If it's not meant to be, can't really force it."

I tried to explain nicely, hoping she'd drop it. But of course, no such luck.

"Don't give me that 'fate' nonsense. Isabella, get real. Look at yourself-looks, background, skills-what part of you even matches up to my son?

"I only agreed to this marriage so you'd give us a baby. You think you're some kind of princess now?

"If you're just going to sit there like a broken machine, then step aside. Plenty of women are dying for a shot at this family."

Her rant finally pushed me past my breaking point.

I used to be the perfect daughter-in-law for her-ultra polite, super obedient. I even treated her better than my own mom. She humiliated me constantly about not getting pregnant. But I put up with it, all for Ronald.

But now? Don't even want Ronald anymore. Why the hell should I care what she thinks?

"You think having a baby is up to me alone? Ever use your brain and take a good look at your precious son?

"Yeah, he's got the looks, the family, the job. but too bad he can't even get it up.

"Been married a year and I'm still a virgin. How do you expect a baby when your son's thing can't even function?

"You want a grandkid so bad? Want me to find someone else and pop one out for you? Hell, I'd do it-question is, dare you take that baby in?"

Dead silence. Guess she didn't expect me to clap back.

"You-you're vulgar! Can't have a baby and now you talk back too?"

I let out a cold laugh. Classic Lisa-can dish it but sure can't take it.

"I said it already-your son's the one with the problem."

"You've got all this time to nag me with tonics and baby talk, maybe go take your boy to the doctor. And while you're at it, get your brain checked too."I hung up right after I finished talking and even switched off my phone, then flopped onto the bed with a big sigh and rolled around like a kid.

Man, this feels so damn good.

Getting divorced really does feel like freedom unlocked. Once you give up caring, life gets a whole lot easier.

From now on, anyone who wants to put up with this kind of crap can go right ahead-count me out.

After an exhausting day, I passed out quickly. When I woke up, it was already ten at night.

I went downstairs. The whole villa was pitch dark, like I expected-Ronald didn't plan on coming back, just like last time around.

I smirked, not surprised at all. Quietly, I cleaned up the dishes and made myself a fancy dinner.

I'm never starving myself again for someone else. That's just plain stupid.

After I finished eating, I packed my stuff without a second thought and left the place I'd once poured my heart into. I checked into a hotel for the time being.

Tomorrow's big-I've got divorce to handle, and another super important thing I can't afford to mess up.

Success only, no plan B.

Next morning, I was woken up by a call from Ronald.

"Isabella!" he practically growled through his teeth, "What did you say to my mom last night?"

Still half out of it, I rubbed my head and tried to recall the chat I'd had with his dear mother. and before I could help it, I burst out laughing.

"Didn't you already get the memo? Why bother asking?"

"Oh right, any idea when your mom wants to drag you in for a check-up?"

He didn't respond right away, but I could easily picture him-face dark, probably throwing death glares.

Sure enough, he finally spoke again, voice low and chilly.

"Isabella, save your tricks. Doesn't work on me. I'm not interested in sleeping with you."

I stretched lazily and turned over, completely relaxed.

"Please. Don't flatter yourself. I'm not dying to sleep with you either."

He snorted coldly. "Let's hope it stays that way. Where are you? And why the hell isn't breakfast ready?"

I snapped my eyes open, grinding my teeth.

This guy treats me like garbage but still expects me to cook for him like clockwork?

Not gonna lie, I used to care way too much-Ronald never liked breakfast, and I was so worried about his stomach I busted my ass learning how to cook right. Irony? I ended up with the digestive issues.

We might've had a dead marriage, but he actually loved my cooking. I used to take that as a sign, that maybe deep down he still cared.

Now I know better. He saw me as his full-time, live-in maid.

Well, news flash-I'm done cooking for him. For good.

He must've gotten impatient waiting for my reply.

"You gonna answer or what?"

I said flatly, "Go to the second floor. There's something on the table."

A moment later, I heard him coming up the stairs. His voice, cold and annoyed, followed.

"Why are you being so difficult lately? I say one thing, you do the opposite. And why is breakfast on the second floor? You know I always eat on the-"

His footsteps suddenly stopped. So did his rant.

It was like he just vanished into thin air.

There was a long pause on the other end before Ronald spoke again, voice sharp and heavy.

"Isabella. what's with the divorce agreement?"

Before leaving last night, I left two copies of the papers on the table. No point dragging this mess on.

In my head, I could almost imagine his face right now-tight-jawed, and probably looking like he swallowed a lemon.

I felt strangely calm. Honestly? Even kind of proud.

"Exactly what it looks like. I've signed it already. Don't worry-I'm walking away with nothing. Not a cent from you."

"From now on, you go your way, I'll go mine. Marriage over. Let's make sure we never see each other again."

The air suddenly turned eerily silent, then came a cold sneer. Ronald's voice was low and tight, like he was forcing the words through clenched teeth.

"Isabella, don't come crying later."

I stayed calm. From the moment the idea formed in my head, I'd pictured this scene over and over.

Whatever he said, I was ready.

"Relax. I don't go back on decisions. Just sign the divorce papers, and let's pick a date. Today's Thursday..."

Before I could finish, the man just hung up.

"...Seriously?"

Unbelievable. That guy hangs up like it's his hobby.

I glanced at the time. Not like I had time to deal with divorce today anyway-had something way more important to do. Divorce could totally wait till tomorrow.

I got up, freshened up quickly, grabbed my keys, and sped off. Eventually, I parked by the roadside, watching rows of stores lined up closely. My heart was pounding hard.

It was blazing hot, typical of midsummer. Even with the AC running, the air felt suffocating inside the car.

After three whole hours, a guy and a girl finally showed up down the street, and my eyes lit up instantly.

They were here.

I waited until they entered a nearby café before getting out and following them in.

They sat across from each other, and I picked a not-so-obvious corner, quietly watching.

The girl wore a pink dress, her eyes shiny and full of life as she chatted animatedly.

The guy? Mr. Perfect on the surface-well-mannered, polite, every move seemed just right.

If I hadn't lived through all this once already, I'd never guess what he was about to do.

The girl got up and headed to the bathroom. Pretty soon after she left, Mr. Polite's smile dropped.

He kept glancing toward the bathroom while pulling out a tiny bottle from his pocket.

I clenched my fist, quickly took out my phone, aimed the camera at him.

He twisted the cap open, poured the clear liquid into the coffee with practiced ease, and even stirred it a bit. Like it was just sugar or something.

Then he shoved the bottle away like nothing happened and calmly waited.

She came back. He stood up to greet her all enthusiastically, even pushed her coffee gently towards her.

She smiled and nodded, just about to take a sip-

"Didn't you tell me never to drink something that's been left alone? Forgot already?"

I walked over with my phone in hand, voice casual and unhurried.

Both of them looked over. The moment our eyes met, the girl froze, biting her lip.

"Isabella? What the heck are you doing here?"

I looked at her beautiful face, and it just hurt. "Been a while, huh, Emma?"

Emma's tone had a bite to it. "Where's your Mr. Wright? Weren't you glued to him 24/7? What, finally bored enough to go out and play?"

I didn't snap back. Not even a little.

Emma's been my best friend since forever-honest, kind, and full of life.

Last year, we fell out badly. I was marrying Ronald, and she thought I was blinded by love. Said it'd be a mistake, that I'd just end up a pathetic pushover.

Looking back. she wasn't wrong. I even went pro at it-top-tier simping.

In my past life, I was too stubborn to listen. For some clueless guy, I threw away the best friend I had.

She passed away before we ever made up.The guy who ruined her life? That's him-sitting right across from her. Harry Johnson. Her coworker. In the last life, he drugged and assaulted her, then used nude photos and videos to blackmail her into staying with him. Over time, the pressure drove Emma Lewis to the edge. She developed severe depression and finally took her own life by jumping off a building. I still remember how messed up I was at her funeral-regret and guilt eating me alive.

Not this time. I'm not letting it happen.

I didn't hesitate to plop down beside Emma and wrapped an arm around her shoulder like I owned the place.

"Who does he think he is? I want to come out and chill-what's wrong with that?"

"But you, dude," I said, giving Harry a hard stare, "you're not even worth being called a person."

Harry's expression darkened instantly. "Excuse me, miss? Who even are you? And what gives you the right to come up here insulting people?"

I didn't bother playing nice. I let out a cold laugh. "You really don't know? After what you just did? Come on, you think no one sees through your little act?"

A flash of panic crossed his face, but he still tried to act cool.

"Emma, do you know her? Her mouth's out of control. If she doesn't start showing some respect, I'm seriously gonna get mad."

Emma's face changed. She looked at Harry, then back at me. Even after all this time, the trust between us hadn't gone away.

"Isabella, what happened just now?"

Silently, I pulled up the video on my phone and handed it over.

As Emma watched, her brows furrowed tighter and tighter, her face grim.

Harry noticed what I was doing and seemed to realize he was screwed. He shot up from his seat, trying to bolt. But before he could even get up all the way, Emma slapped him. Hard.

"You absolute scum! You tried to drug me?!"

Harry stood there dazed, then his face twisted in fury. He raised a hand to strike back-but before he could even get close, I whipped out some pepper spray and blasted him straight in the eyes.

"Touch Emma and you're done for!"

We caused enough commotion that the cafe staff and bystanders jumped in right away. They helped us pin Harry down and called the cops.

Even though the police showed up really fast, by the time they arrived, Harry looked like he'd been hit by a truck-bloody nose, busted lip, the whole deal.

After we finished giving statements, Emma and I went straight home.

As soon as we walked through the door, Emma wrapped me in a tight hug and started crying.

"I still can't believe it, Isabella. He looked so normal, but he was a monster. Thank god you showed up. If you hadn't... I don't even wanna think about it."

"It's over now," I said, gently rubbing her back. My own eyes brimmed with tears. Today, we rewrote her fate. She wasn't going to be another tragedy-not anymore.

Relief swept through me. I'd lost her once, but not again. And if I could save Emma's future... maybe I could save my own too.

Emma pulled back, our eyes meeting. We both seemed to remember that heated argument years ago-both red-faced and stubborn.

We burst out laughing.

She tugged me toward the couch, wiped away one of my tears. "So tell me, how have you been this past year?"

I shook my head honestly.

She looked instantly pissed. "Wait-what happened? Is Ronald being a jerk again?"

Before I could answer, she narrowed her eyes. "If you're just here after some couple's fight, don't even think about crashing with me. I'm not wasting my breath just for you to go running back again. I'm officially anti-simp from now on, got it?"

I chuckled despite myself. That's Emma-same in this life and the last. She can't stand anyone being a slave to love.

"My simp phase is over, I swear. In fact, Ronald and I are divorcing. Paperwork's already in the works."

Emma's jaw almost hit the floor.

"Wait, seriously? You're actually walking away from Ronald? But you always said you'd be obsessed with him forever just based on how good-looking he is!"