Reborn After Death, Now My Cheating Husband Regretted Everything

The moment his phone rang again, Jean froze. Then Luna’s voice came through loud and clear. “Jean, where are you? My knee’s killing me. It really hurts…”

Right then, Samira understood. The ointment, the rush, the concern, it hadn’t been for her. It never was. Jean's focus snapped back to his phone and the hand supporting her was gone in an instant.

“Hang in there, Luna. I’m on my way!” His footsteps echoed down the stairs, growing softer until they vanished completely.

Samira stayed where she was, curled slightly on the floor, palms flat against the cold ground. Her eyes closed as she breathed through the pain.

Tears slipped silently down her cheeks and for the first time, she couldn’t tell if it was her body that hurt more, or her heart.

It was half an hour before she managed to push herself up again. Moving slowly, she made her way to her room.

Not long after, her phone rang.

“Ms. Jourdain,” a calm voice reported on the other end. “Everything is ready. The body’s prepped and all the points are set. Just waiting for your word.”

She exhaled softly. “Alright. Prepare a new ID for me. I’ll make my move in three days.”

Three days. That was all she needed. Then she would finally be out of here for good. The thought made her chest feel a little lighter.

Jean didn’t come back during those three days. Samira didn’t ask. She already knew where he was and with whom.

On the fourth day, just as she was wrapping things up, he walked in. She was in the middle of clearing out old photos, tossing them into a box, one by one. She wasn’t taking much. And she definitely wasn’t taking memories.

Jean stepped in with a brightness in his eyes she hadn’t seen in a long time. He walked right up to her and gently grabbed her hand.

“Samira, how’s your knee? Is it still bothering you? Let me check.” He bent down, about to lift her pant leg, but she stopped him.

“It’s fine. Healed up already,” she said flatly. He didn’t push, just nodded, looking around as if searching for something.

Then he asked, almost too casually, “By the way… where’s the necklace? The one my mom gave you when we got married?”

Samira paused. The necklace… Miranda had given it to her personally. It was one of those symbolic pieces passed down to the Zaccaro daughters-in-law.

Jean had never even mentioned it before. Not once. She studied his face for a moment but said nothing about it. “It’s in the study. Inside the safe.”

“Great,” he said quickly. “Mom wants to get it cleaned. I’ll just take it over and bring it back in a couple days.”

After today, Samira wouldn’t be the Zaccaro Family’s daughter-in-law anymore. The necklace didn’t belong to her now and honestly, she didn’t care enough to question Jean’s excuse. Whether it was a lie or not, she just didn’t have the energy to dig into it.

Jean took the necklace and left soon after, quick, like he couldn’t wait to be gone.

Later that afternoon, Miranda called. “Samira, come with me to the charity gala tonight,” she said, her voice as warm as always. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

Samira remembered that gala from her previous life, how she had said yes to Miranda’s invitation, walked into the venue… and found Jean and Luna there, together.

That night had ended in flames; pain, humiliation and eventually, death. But tonight, she was going again.

Not because she hadn’t learned her lesson, but because she had. This night was a piece of the puzzle she couldn’t skip.

In the evening, Miranda sent a car. For all her faults, Miranda had always treated Samira with kindness. Even after everything that happened when she was a child, Miranda never backed away from her.

An hour later, the car pulled up in front of the venue. Samira stepped out and immediately spotted Miranda waiting by the entrance. She walked over and Miranda pulled her into a gentle hug.

But when she leaned back, her eyes dropped to Samira’s bare collarbone. “Why aren’t you wearing the necklace I gave you?” she asked, puzzled.

Samira’s heart skipped just for a beat, just long enough to know Jean had lied. But again… she wasn’t surprised.

“I forgot,” she said casually, as if it didn’t matter. Because it didn’t. Miranda let it go and led her inside, introducing her with a proud smile to everyone they passed.

“This is my daughter-in-law,” she said over and over. Samira noticed the awkward looks. The polite smiles. The not-so-subtle glances.

Everyone here knew Jean had come with someone else. She was still the wife, sure, but in name only. She lowered her gaze and let a faint, sarcastic smile touch her lips.

A few minutes later, Miranda excused herself to speak with the event organizer and told Samira to look around.

As she walked through the glittering hall, it felt like déjà vu. Same place. Same faces. Same script. Only this time, she wasn’t the naive woman from before.