My wife bought a fake product, returned a different defective one, and when the delivery guy came to argue, she acted unreasonable and deliberately provoked him.
The guy pulled out a razor blade he had prepared long ago and slashed at me as I tried to defend my wife.
At the very first moment, my wife shoved me forward and locked the door behind me.
I was left bleeding all over, slashed by the furious delivery guy. No matter how hard I pounded on the door or begged for help, my wife Emily Johnson never responded.
She did nothing—no call to the police, no ambulance—just sat inside, quietly waiting for me to die.
When I was finally delivered to the morgue, my male neighbor Daniel Smith casually unlocked my home with a key and held Emily in his arms.
“Michael Carter has treated you so well, always giving in to you. How could you just watch him die?”
Upon hearing my name, Emily’s eyes filled with cold indifference.
“If he doesn’t die, how else can we be together openly?”
…
I touched my throat—it was intact.
I had been given a second chance at life, though the sensation of being slashed remained vivid.
In my previous life, provoking the delivery guy was all part of Emily’s carefully crafted scheme.
This time, I would not die so foolishly.
“Honey, go check outside. The water’s out—it must be that awful delivery guy messing with us again.”
Emily came out of the room, her brows furrowed.
Looking at her innocent face, I sneered inwardly.
In the last life, I trusted her too much, believed her lies, thought the delivery guy had feelings for her. I never listened to his explanation and argued with him until things spiraled out of control.
Emily was a small but rising social media influencer, and she received countless packages every day, so her story sounded plausible.
I walked to the door and opened it.
The delivery guy—Jason Miller—was standing right outside.
Emily rushed forward. “Did you shut off the water? You broke my water heater! Pay up—it cost me thousands, imported from overseas!”
In my previous life, I let my emotions take control, never questioning her words.
But that water heater had been gifted by the brand, and it was worth only a few hundred.
Emily’s greed was bottomless; she wanted to squeeze money out of him.
Before Jason could even speak, Emily staggered backward into my arms.
“Honey, he laid hands on me!”
“He hurt me!”
But I saw clearly—Jason hadn’t even lifted his hand. It was all Emily’s performance.
In my last life, I was fooled by her act, lashed out at Jason, and he, feeling wronged, chose to fight back with violence.
This time, I would never be that stupid again.
Jason’s hand slipped toward his pocket.
I pushed Emily aside. She stared at me, stunned, sensing my distance.
“I didn’t see him touch you.”
Emily’s anger flared. “Michael, are you blind? Can’t you see he tried to harass me?”
Yes, I was blind—blind enough to have chosen Emily in the first place.
I looked at her coldly. “You know very well whether he touched you or not.”
For the first time, panic flickered across Emily’s face. I had always indulged her every whim, never once showing coldness, much less disgust.
Jason gave me a grateful glance—only I knew how wrongly accused he had been.
“Michael, are you still my husband or not? Why are you siding with an outsider?”
Husband? What a joke. Wasn’t there already someone else?
Seeing I didn’t reply, Emily thought I was wavering. She pointed at Jason and shouted, “Michael, call the delivery company and file a complaint right now. He came here in person—he has to be destroyed, socially ruined!”
