The Cuckolded Wife

My relationship with my husband started when we were students. Even then, many people were envious of us.

However, everything is ruined when I'm sullied after a drunken night. My reputation goes down the drain, as does my chastity. I've been caught red-handed—the man beside me in bed isn't my husband.

I later find out that my husband is the one who set me up to take the fall. It's all because he wanted to save his true love—a woman he could never have.

My mind was foggy. I couldn't tell if I was dreaming or if what I saw was reality.

The room was dim. However, when I got a good look at the man on top of me, I felt as if I had been hit on the back of my head. Instantly, I regained my lucidity.

I surreptitiously glanced at the ashtray on the bedside table.

Then, catching the man off-guard, I grabbed it and brought it down on his head. It happened far too quickly for him to react in any other way than to snarl, "What the hell? How dare you attack me?"

Before he could strike back at me, I used all the strength I could muster to bash him in the head over and over again.

It was only when his blood had stained the white sheets red that I came back to what little senses I had left.

My body was trembling, though I didn't know whether it was out of anger or fear—or perhaps the joy of being reborn back in time and getting a do-over.

At some point, I started tearing up, and my tears were now dampening my cheeks.

I was still consumed by my thoughts.

In my previous lifetime, it was on this very day that I lost my dignity and reputation as a woman.

While I was unconscious, a group of people stormed into the room and woke me up.

Before I could realize what was happening, I heard the voice of my husband, Andrew Stone, ringing out icily.

"Ella Turner, is this the birthday surprise you prepared for me?"

When I tried to get up, I realized that there was an arm around my waist. A sense of unease crept through me, and I heard the repulsive voice of an unfamiliar man asking me, "Did you enjoy yourself?"

At that very moment, I felt as if my blood had gone cold. It was as if I had plunged into an icy abyss. A man I didn't know was lying in bed beside me. It wasn't my husband.

I'd been raped.

Yet, no matter how hard I tried to explain that I had no idea who the man was and that he had forced himself onto me, no one believed me.

A multitude of evidence appeared out of nowhere to make it seem like I had been cheating on Andrew with this man for a while now.

During that loneliest and most helpless point in my life,