Reborn After Death, Now My Cheating Husband Regretted Everything

Jean’s hand covered hers, firm and coaxing, trying to guide the pen in her fingers. But this time, Samira didn’t move. Her mind was sharp. Clear.

She gently pulled her hand back and set the pen down. “Actually,” she said, calm and steady, “I have something for you to sign first. You sign that and I’ll sign this.”

Jean blinked, a little caught off guard, but didn’t hesitate. “Sure. Give it to me, I’ll sign it now.”

Samira walked over to the nightstand and opened the drawer. From inside, she pulled out a document she’d hidden long ago, something she had quietly prepared in her previous life: a divorce agreement.

Back then, she had assumed Jean only married her out of obligation, maybe because of the Jourdain Family’s pressure. She didn’t want to make things harder for him, so she had drawn up the papers just in case.

She never had the heart to use them. But now, it felt like the only thing that made sense.

She laid the agreement down in front of him. Jean didn’t even read it. He just signed his name like it meant nothing, then slid his document in front of her with a glance that said, “Your turn.”

His eyes were focused, a little too eager. And Samira met them evenly.

The agreement she gave him would leave her with nothing, no money, no name, no claim. And Jean didn’t care. All he cared about was getting her signature. Probably so he could run straight back to Luna.

Something bitter twisted in her chest. Of course. That was all she ever was, an obstacle to remove.

She picked up the pen and signed anyway, not because he told her to, but because she was done. Done clinging to things that were never really hers. Not the Jourdain fortune. Not the name. And definitely not Jean.

After signing, she quietly folded the divorce papers and slipped them back into the drawer. That was when Jean finally asked, “Wait, what did I just sign for you?”

Without looking at him, Samira replied, “Divorce agreement.”

He froze for a second, stunned into silence. Then, like he thought she was just being dramatic, he chuckled. “Samira, come on. If you didn’t want to tell me, you could’ve just said so.”

He slung his bag over his shoulder, brushing it off like it was nothing. “Anyway, I’ve got stuff to deal with. Don’t wait up, alright? Go to bed early.”

A few seconds later, she watched through the window as his car pulled out of the driveway. The headlights slowly disappeared into the night, leaving the villa dark and quiet.

Samira stayed there, standing by the nightstand, not moving for a long moment. Her legs felt heavy, like they didn’t quite belong to her.

Then finally, she picked up her phone and made a call. Her voice was cool. Almost too calm. “I need you to prepare a body,” she said. “Same height and build as me.”

Samira had made up her mind, she was going to use that murder to fake her death and disappear for good.

In her last life, after she was killed, she lingered in the world as a spirit for a few days. Long enough to see who had actually done it.

The man was unhinged, clearly unstable. And now, with that memory still sharp in her mind, she knew exactly when and where it would happen again. All she had to do was make sure the fake body was in place at the right time.

After hanging up, her phone buzzed again. Luna had posted something. [My knight finally helped me kick the bad guy out. He said no one will bully me anymore!]

There was a photo attached, just two people leaning on each other. Their faces weren’t visible, but Samira didn’t need to see them.

She knew. The "knight" was Jean and the "bad guy"? That could only be her.

She let out a humorless laugh, bitter and dry. On her fifth birthday, she had worn a princess dress and Jean had knelt in front of her like a little gentleman, promising to protect her forever.

Back then, she believed him. Now, forever felt awfully short.

Samira shut off her phone and lay down, not expecting to sleep, but too drained to do anything else. The next morning, just after breakfast, she got a call. “Ms. Jourdain, the jewelry Mr. Zaccaro bought for you last week has been fully serviced and is ready for pickup.”

For a second, she just stared at the wall, stunned. ‘That ridiculously expensive piece?’

A week ago, she had paused in front of the display, admiring it quietly. She never said she wanted it, but Jean noticed anyway and joined the bidding without a second thought. The price kept climbing. She had tried to stop him.

“Jean, it’s too much. I really don’t need it,” she had said.

But he only smiled and told her, “If you like it, I’ll get it, no matter the cost.”

A week ago, he was still doting on her. Still pretending to care. ‘How has everything flipped so fast?’

“Ms. Jourdain? Hello?” the person on the line asked again.

Samira blinked, then cleared her throat. “Yes. I’m on my way.”

She caught a cab and headed to the auction house. But just as she was about to step out of the car, she froze. Right in front of the doors, she saw them; Jean and Luna walking in together.

They looked close. Comfortable. Like they belonged. She stared at them for a few seconds longer, her hand still on the door handle.

The driver glanced at her through the rearview mirror, probably wondering what the holdup was. Snapping out of it, Samira opened the door and got out. By the time she reached the steps, they were already gone inside.

The moment passed, but the ache in her chest lingered. Something inside her quietly shifted. Maybe it was hope. Or whatever was left of it.

Jean was probably here to buy something for Luna. Samira didn’t want to see them, she just wanted to get the jewelry and leave.

She pulled her hood up, waited a couple minutes just in case, then slipped inside. Avoiding the main showroom, she walked straight toward the reception area, hoping to get in and out without being noticed.

But just as she reached the doorway, she stopped in her tracks. Jean and Luna were already there.

The receptionist stood in front of them, holding the jewelry she had come to pick up. He walked over to Luna, smiling like he was presenting a crown to a queen. “So Mr. Zaccaro picked this out for you? It’s perfect on you, miss. He really knows how to choose.”

Samira didn’t move. She just stood there, hands cold, heart heavy.

She remembered how she missed this call in her previous life. She had been drinking that night, too caught up in heartbreak to answer her phone.

She had no idea back then that this necklace, this ridiculously expensive gift, was never meant for her.

She had thought Jean bought it for her. Worn it like it meant something. But now… now she knew the truth. It had always belonged to someone else.

And just like that, the last two years of her life felt even more hollow. A joke. A pity prize wrapped in silver and lies.

Her throat tightened. She blinked hard, trying to shake it off. She wasn’t going to humiliate herself again, not in front of them.

Without stepping inside, Samira turned around, ready to leave and pretend she never saw anything. But just then, a voice called out behind her. “Samira?!”

It was Luna. Of course it was. Samira froze, shoulders tensing. So much for slipping out unnoticed.