Part 1Revenge Of The Househusband

Through the haze of cigarette smoke, she crushed out her ember and delivered the reason for the divorce—she had fallen in love with our son’s classmate.

I agreed without a second’s hesitation. I had already lived through this once.

In my previous life, I had been the stubborn fool who refused to let go. I had clung to the wreckage of our marriage, only for her young lover to be whisked away into a marriage of convenience by his own family. The fallout broke her. She spiraled into alcoholism and eventually suffered a massive stroke that left her paralyzed.

For ten years, I was her shadow. I cared for her every need, day in and day out, until I finally nursed her back onto her feet. And the very first thing she did once she could walk again? She took our son by the hand and forced me into a divorce.

"It’s your fault for not letting her go back then!" my son had screamed at me. "Mom wouldn't have gotten sick, and my life wouldn't have been this pathetic!"

Under the pressure of his suicide threats, I finally signed the papers. Later, she married their former male housekeeper, while I was diagnosed with a terminal illness. That mother and son duo coldly rejected every single one of my pleas for help. In my final moments of consciousness, I felt nothing but a vast, freezing desolation.

But then, I opened my eyes. I was back on the day she asked for the divorce.

This time, I calmly exhaled two words: "Okay. Fine."

* * *

She snapped her head up, her face a mask of shock. "What did you say? Say that again!"

I spewed a large piece of pot roast into my mouth, chewing casually. "I said the divorce is fine. We split the assets fifty-fifty. Any objections?"

She knit her brows, looking down in silent contemplation. She didn't speak.

I served myself a massive bowl of mashed potatoes and began eating with a vengeance. In my last life, I had gone three days without a drop of water or a bite of food before the illness finally took me. Now, I was going to eat my fill.

Mona sighed, a look of weary condescension on her face. "David, I’m being serious. I’m in love with Jordan, and he feels the same way about me."

"I know there’s a twenty-five-year gap between us, but our souls are entwined. As my partner for the first half of my life, you should respect my choice. You should give us your blessing."

I nodded. "Sure. Honestly, I’m tired of living with you anyway."

She froze again. Then, a flicker of genuine delight crossed her features.

"You’re... you’re not just saying that? You’re not planning to make a scene?"

I gave her a silent shrug of confirmation.

She rubbed her hands together, visibly vibrating with excitement. "Good. I’m glad you’ve reached this level of self-awareness! I suppose twenty years with me rubbed a little bit of class off on you after all."

"Look, we’ll split the assets three ways. One for you, one for me, and one for our son. That’s more than fair, and it’s my way of doing right by you."

"I’m staying with Mom," our son, Lucas, chimed in suddenly, not looking up from his phone. "She can manage my share of the money."

Mona let out a sharp, triumphant laugh. "Perfect! That means two-thirds for me, one-third for you. Really, David, it’s a generous deal. You’ve been a stay-at-home dad for twenty years; you haven't exactly contributed to the household income. You’ve lived off me all this time. Taking a third is plenty. Be grateful."

Lucas waved his phone in the air. "Dad, I recorded you saying you’d agree to the divorce. Don’t even think about backing out."