The Final Straw: Choosing Divorce Over Misery

When I opened my eyes again, I was in my boss’s office.

My boss, Andy Wilson, waved his hand in front of me and said, “Emma, what are you staring at, huh? Hurry up to make copies and tidy up before leaving.”

“Mr. Wilson? You’re still alive?”

Just after being reborn, I blurted out and even reached out to touch his face to see if it was warm.

Andy was probably stunned and forgot to dodge.

My hand touched his left cheek, warm and elastic, not a dead person.

“E... Emma, does that mean... your husband is still outside?” Andy seemed to be shocked and his words were incoherent. By now, I had accepted the fact that I had been reborn.

Outside the shutters, the city was covered in heavy snow.

I held the documents tightly in my hand, and memories from the past lives flooded my mind.

This day in a previous life, Peter didn’t wait for me to drive home after work, so I had to take a taxi.

But the snow was too heavy, and our company was in a remote location. I stood at the company’s entrance and almost turned into a snowman without catching a single car.

In the end, Andy parked the car in front of me and kindly sent me home.

But unexpectedly, at the nearest intersection to my home, a large truck skidded and crashed straight into us.

Andy died on the spot, and I became paralyzed from the neck down.

Because it was during rush hour, there were many onlookers. The two of us were photographed and posted online. Netizens quickly spread the news that Andy was divorced and I was married.

There were various speculations and rumors online.

Until my husband Peter liked a news about my affair.