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

Perhaps having tasted death, I now found that as long as one was alive, the sting of insults paled in comparison to the gift of life.

"I've taken you into account. Your parents, two mere village teachers, dare to call themselves a 'soul engineers'? Aren't you afraid of the ridicule that follows?" Cathy cackled, her laughter shrill and mocking, and Paul beside her echoed her disdainful chuckle.

Though my heart seethed with rage, I forced it down. I yearned for Cathy to know the pain of being the target of online vitriol.

"Alright, let's visit your family this year, but next year, we'll return to mine, agreed?" I extended a hand to her, but she brushed me off with a sneer.

"We'll discuss it next year."

With that, Cathy whisked Paul to the door. As he left, he stuck his tongue out at me.

For the first time, my own son filled me with such revulsion.

We loaded the gifts for her parents into the car and set off.

Initially, I thought that if Cathy didn't push me to my limits, I might let her have her way.

But there were those who, unless they inflict harm, felt their day was incomplete.

As soon as I ignited the engine, Cathy began her petty tirade.

"People, the more they lack, the more they flaunt it." Cathy glanced at me as she scrolled through her phone.

I knew she aimed her barbs at me, but I remained silent, mindful that my phone was capturing every word.

I set the navigation, securing the phone on the dashboard so that its selfie camera was perfectly angled to capture the interior of the car.

Thankfully, the phone's navigation and camera functions were compatible; otherwise, I would have had to devise another plan.

"I'm not implying anything, Benjamin, but why do you radiate such a destitute aura? I advised you to save up for a Mercedes-Benz, yet you insisted it was merely a mode of transport. You settled for a dilapidated Ford Fiesta, and I'm too ashamed to claim it as mine when I visit my family. It's utterly humiliating."

"That's right, Dad. It's lame," Paul mocked from the backseat.

I thought to myself, "If you found it so disgraceful, then earn the money yourself and buy the car you desire."

Cathy had been a homemaker since our wedding. I never begrudged her decision to work or not; after all, my earnings were sufficient to support our family, and it was a relief for her to have the leisure to rest.

After Paul's birth, I encouraged her even more to stay at home. Childbirth took a profound toll on women, and I didn't want her to endure further strain, so I hired a nanny, ensuring she needed only to care for herself.

Yet, she still found fault, believing I hadn't provided her with a luxury car or a grand mansion.

Consequently, Paul had picked up her habit of comparison.

"Paul, if you think my car isn't up to par, then earn your own money and purchase one instead of comparing yourself to others."

Paul pouted, on the verge of tears.

"Benjamin, are you indirectly accusing me? I may not work, but didn't you promise to support me? You earn a pittance each month, yet you dare to berate your own son." Cathy slammed her phone down, her finger nearly jabbing my nose as she berated me.

"Sweetie, I didn't intend to imply anything about you. You know I make at least 20,000 dollars a month, plus performance bonuses, totaling over 40,000 dollars, all of which I hand over to you. Please, don't scold me." I knew that by lowering my stance, Cathy's retribution would only grow more severe.

"You seem proud to earn 40,000 dollars, right? My best friend's husband earns millions of dollars annually. How can you be so proud?"

"Tiffany's husband? But she's the mistress, and her actions drove the original wife to her grave. Her daughter despises her. She can't be as content as you."