Rebirth: I Turned Her Fake Insanity Real

In order to take care of my wife, Mildred Dale, who kept going into lunatic episodes thanks to the side effects of a car crash, I spent all of my assets and ten years of my life taking care of her.

Whenever Mildred went into an episode, she'd hurl everything she could get her hands on at me. At the same time, she'd scratch every inch of my body with her nails. But when she sobered up, she'd hug me while wailing at the top of her lungs.

All of my friends advised me to file for a divorce, yet I'd always remember the fact that Mildred had pushed me from the incoming car and hit her head, resulting in her current condition.

But everything changed when Mildred beat me up to the point that I sustained grievous injuries. Heck, my soul was already floating near the ceiling at that time.

That was when I saw Mildred arranging her childhood friend Hank Weaver's collar carefully.

"Why are you crying? He's already dead. Shouldn't we celebrate this occasion instead?

"But my heart breaks for you, Mildred. You've pretended to be a lunatic for ten whole years just to swindle every cent out of his account!"

Mildred kissed Hank on the lips. Then, she uttered icily, "I've been enduring that cowardly fool for ten long years. Now, I no longer have to be with him."

It turns out that Mildred and Hank had painstakingly staged the car accident just so they could put on such a perfect act.

When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day Mildred is diagnosed with mental health issues.

"Ms. Dale has suffered a traumatic brain injury. While it isn't life-threatening, her mental state may become unstable. She will likely fluctuate between moments of clarity and mania."

The doctor handed me the diagnostic report and sighed heavily. It was in that moment that it hit me that I'd been reborn.

"Take her home so she can slowly recover. A familiar environment aids in rehabilitation," the doctor suggested, but I ignored him and looked at Mildred Dale lying on the hospital bed.

Her eyelids twitched slightly to show that she was faking sleep.

In my past life, I trusted the doctor. After taking her home, I worked myself to exhaustion during the day to earn money, only to return home at night just to endure her physical abuse and manic outbursts.

Meanwhile, her childhood sweetheart, Hank Weaver, made up an excuse that he was "well acquainted with psychiatric specialists" and took her out for "treatments" during the day. In reality, they drove my car and spent my money, squandering my wealth while indulging in their sordid affair.

If she was expecting that I'd still take her home in this life, she must be dreaming.

I walked over to the bed, leaned down, and quietly slid my hand toward her inner thigh before twisting hard.

"Ah!"

A piercing scream shattered the silence of the ward. Mildred bolted upright before she pointed at me and shrieked, "Victor Crane! Are you insane?"

I wasn't insane, but in this life, I was going to make sure that she truly became a lunatic.

I shouted toward the door, "Help! Doctors, nurses, my wife's having an episode! She's getting out of control!"

When the doctors and nurses rushed in, they saw the feral Mildred trying to scramble off the bed to attack me, while I huddled against the wall with a perfect mask of terror and helplessness on my face. My eyes immediately reddened as they entered.

"Quick! Get the restraints!" a doctor barked.

Mildred probably forgot that she was supposed to be "mentally unstable" and violently struggled as she screamed at the nurses, "Get off me! I'm not crazy; he is!"

I wiped my eyes and grabbed her restrained hand. "Don't worry, honey. Even if you've lost your mind, I'll never divorce you."

My voice was choked up and loud enough for everyone in the ward to hear.

Mildred's face turned from a furious red to a sickly pale. When she glared at me, the venom and hatred in her eyes threatened to spill over.

The surrounding patients and their families looked at me with sympathy and admiration.

"He is such an amazing man for not leaving his wife's side, even if she's terribly sick."

"Exactly. I can't imagine how much the poor guy has to suffer to deal with such a mess."

I met their gazes before turning to the doctor with a tone full of heavy grief. "Doctor, for her safety and mine, please contact the best psychiatric hospital at once. I want her transferred."

"What?"

Mildred's eyes flew so wide they nearly bulged out of their sockets. As she frantically thrashed, the restraints dug so hard into her skin that it reddened. "Victor, don't you dare!

"You evil bastard! I'm not sick or crazy!"

I ignored her roaring and gave the attending doctor a look of pity and resignation. "Look, doctor. She's already spouting nonsense and thinks I'm trying to harm her. I'm her husband, but she can't even recognize me anymore.

"Please speed up the process. I must get her into the best psychiatric hospital to get her cured."

The doctor helplessly stepped back and sympathetically reassured me, "Don't worry, Mr. Crane. The psychiatric team is on its way."

The moment the words left his mouth, I saw pure horror on Mildred's face. Every frantic defense she made seemed to serve as evidence of how serious her condition was.

"Victor, you bitch! How dare you set me up! I'll kill you!"

Furious, she tried to lunge at me again, but the doctor's sedative kicked in.

As she slowly went still, her eyes were full of murderous rage, yet she was too powerless to do anything.

I smirked. "Don't worry, honey. I'll make sure they get you cured, once and for all."