The Death Loop

At that moment, I hadn’t expected my husband, who had just agreed to take the blame without much resistance, to suddenly experience a change in expression.

His face tightened. He grabbed my wrist hard and dragged me back, his lips trembling slightly.

"You can’t go!"

The moment the words left his mouth, he seemed to realize how extreme he sounded. He quickly turned his head, stammering as he tried to explain.

"It’s too late right now. You’re not even feeling unwell, so there’s no need to rush to the hospital in the middle of the night. You still have work tomorrow!"

I didn’t notice anything strange at first. Irritated, I shook his hand off. "Work? If I don’t go to the hospital, I’ll be dead tomorrow. If you won’t come with me, I’ll go by myself. You go ahead and sleep."

With that, I grabbed my bag and headed for the door.

But before I could take a step, his arms wrapped tightly around my waist, locking me in place. He kept trying to persuade me, "When things calm down, I’ll take you back to my hometown. We’ll see a traditional doctor. They are way better than these modern doctors!"

That was when I finally noticed something was off.

All these years together, Emmett had never once mentioned traditional medicine. Whenever he got sick, it was always injections, pills—modern treatment.

Yet now, when I said I was going to die tomorrow, he didn’t care at all. Instead, he was desperately trying to stop me from going to the hospital.

Had he poisoned me?

The thought I had just suppressed surged right back. I kicked him hard in the stomach.

"Get off me, Emmett. I’m going to the hospital tonight, no matter what!" To make sure, I put even more force into my kick, my voice turning sharp with threat. "If you don’t let me go, I’ll divorce you!"

Even after I said that, he still clung to me, his face twisting in pain, refusing to let go.

"N-No! You can’t! I won’t let you go to the hospital! Even if we divorce, I still won’t let you go!"

That was it.

I was certain now that my husband knew something, and my repeated deaths had something to do with him.

All the fear, the despair, the endless loop with no clear end—

It felt like my heart had been dropped into an ice pit.

"Then we’re getting a divorce," I said coldly.

The next second—

BANG!

The door burst open.

His parents stood outside, faces full of anger, pointing at me as they shouted.

"You crazy woman, what gives you the right to ask for a divorce?!"

"When our son was chasing you, he went to school during the day and worked side jobs at night. Every cent he had, he spent on gifts for you!"

"When you got married, he sold our retirement home just to buy a new house for you, putting only your name on it! Even the savings and the car are in your name! We stayed away just so you wouldn’t feel uncomfortable after marriage!"

"When you got sick, he was more anxious than you! He even gave up a promotion to take care of you at home without a single complaint!"

"What right do you have to leave him?! You’re going to kill me with anger!"

I listened to everything without a trace of emotion, my mind twisting their words into something darker.

"So what if Emmett gave me everything?" I said flatly. "What’s the point?"

All three of them froze.

"What did you just say?"

I looked down at them, a cruel smile spreading across my face and my voice low, like something crawling out of hell.

"I said, you saw that I’m an only child. Even if everything’s in my name, once I die, it all goes back to Emmett anyway.

"Let me guess… You even bought life insurance for accidental death, didn’t you? Just waiting for me to die so you can cash in. Money and a clean inheritance. That must feel great, huh?"

The more I said it, the more convinced I became.

His parents’ faces turned ashen with anger. One of them slapped Emmett hard across the face.

"This is the woman you married?!"

"All your kindness fed to a dog! Even a dog would wag its tail!"

I glanced at my phone.

11:55 p.m.

Emmett looked at me, disappointment flickering in his eyes.

The last shred of my patience snapped. "Move. I’m going to the hospital."