Reborn to Worship My Husband

My husband, Henry, had a terrible temper. He was rarely home, and when he was, he’d storm in like a king, ordering everyone around. It’s why my best friend was always telling me to divorce him. In my last life, I listened. I screamed back at him, and after the final, explosive fight, I packed up my parents, my son, and left. But I never imagined how impossible it would be to support my family alone. When I tried to crawl back to Henry, I found him with her—my best friend. She’d tricked him into becoming her little puppet, and he’d handed over every penny he had. Only then did I realize she’d wanted him all along, plotting to steal him for herself. My world shattered. Driving home in a daze, I was hit by a truck. When I opened my eyes again, I was back in the moment Serena first started poisoning my mind, urging me to leave him. This time, without a second thought, I blocked her number. Then I turned to my husband, who was in the middle of ranting about how my clothes were a disgrace and my taste was garbage, and I smiled sweetly. “You’re right, honey. I’ll go change right now. Whatever you want.”

1 In our two years of marriage, it was the first time I’d ever met his anger with a smile. It actually stunned him into silence for a second. While he was still processing, I’d already slipped out of my t-shirt and jeans and emerged from the walk-in closet in a silk slip dress. The hard lines of Henry’s face softened. “That’s better,” he said, his voice losing its edge. “Don’t wear those ugly things again. They do nothing for you.” Who wears a slip dress to lounge around the house? No one. But Henry liked to see it. If I didn’t do exactly what he wanted, his words turned to daggers. I used to burn with indignation. We’d fallen in love on our own terms, we were both actors in the same industry—why did a marriage certificate suddenly make me his subordinate? I refused to accept it. Every time he criticized my clothes, I fought back, hard. One fight, then another, and another. He’d always end up red-faced with fury, and I’d be left with a bitter taste in my mouth. Afterward, I’d vent to my best friend, Serena. Her advice was always the same. “I’m just saying, Clara,” she’d start, “we live in an age of equality. What man gets to act like a tyrant in his own home these days? Other guys treat their wives like queens, terrified of hurting their feelings. And then there’s Henry. He thinks dropping a little money every month makes him lord of the manor. It’s one thing for you to put up with it, but making your parents walk on eggshells? That’s just cruel. If I were you, I’d divorce him. Find some hot young actor and see how he likes that.” As angry as I was, I always hesitated. “But… I’ve been out of the industry for so long. And Leo is only a year old. If I leave him now, how will I find work?” Serena would cut me off. “Are you kidding me? You’re just as talented as he is, if not more. Besides, I’m still in the business. I can get you auditions. We don’t need a man to survive.” Despite her words, the thought of divorce terrified me. I let things drag on with Henry, stuck in our cycle of fighting and making up. Then came the time he went to shoot a film deep in the mountains and was gone for three months. A nasty flu swept through the city, and everyone in my house—my parents, my son, and me—came down with it. I was burning up, my fever spiking to 103. When I called Henry, I could hear the chaos of the film set in the background. He barely let me get two words out before he exploded. “Clara, for God’s sake, you’re a grown woman! Go to a doctor! Hire a nurse! What do you think I give you all that money for? I’m in the middle of nowhere, I can’t just drop everything and come back. Why are you calling me and adding to my stress?” Listening to the symphony of coughs and cries from the living room, I felt a wave of fear and self-pity wash over me. My voice trembled. “Henry, I just… I needed to hear your voice. I needed some comfort.” “I don’t have time for this!” He took a sharp breath; I could hear a director yelling for him in the distance. He reined in his anger. “Figure it out yourself, Clara. The whole crew, hundreds of people, have been waiting for this snowstorm. We have to shoot. Don’t call me for the next few days. I’ll text you when I’m free.” He hung up. Then, he blocked my number. I stared at the red exclamation point on my screen, my heart fracturing. Just then, Serena called. When I told her what happened, she rushed over and helped me get my parents and Leo to the hospital. After everyone was settled, she sat beside me, sighing dramatically. “See? What did I tell you? That man is useless. Besides throwing money at you, what good is he?” I was numb, unable to speak. A moment later, my phone buzzed with a dozen videos from her—all about how to leave a man who isn’t there for you when you need him most. As I watched, the idea of leaving Henry started to feel less like a threat and more like a promise. What I didn’t know was that Serena had her own agenda. I’d forgotten that without Henry, I’d also be without the $50,000 he deposited into my account every month. The money Serena dismissed as “useless” was what gave me, my parents, and my son a life of comfort and ease. So, when I opened my eyes to this second chance, Henry’s role in my life was redefined. He was no longer my husband. He was my patron, my ATM, my golden goose. If I had to flatter a boss to keep a job, what were a few harsh words from the man who funded my entire life? With that clarity, I forced a smile onto my face. “You must be exhausted, honey,” I said, looking at him. “Let me run a bath for you.” He just nodded, his anger deflating into confusion.

2 In the bathroom, I drew a steaming bath for him, even testing the water with Leo’s little rubber duck to make sure the temperature was perfect. When Henry came in, his eyes were still on me, searching. “Clara.” “Hmm?” “Are you still mad at me? I told you, I had to block you. It was an emergency. You’ve been on set, you know the pressure when hundreds of people are waiting on you.” He spoke quickly, his voice tight. “We drove hours to that remote location just for that one snowstorm. If we missed the shot, the whole production would have been delayed. I couldn’t let that happen. You, of all people, should understand.” He was getting worked up again. In my past life, this would have been my cue to plant my hands on my hips and let him have it. So, your job is more important than your wife and child? Our whole family is in the hospital, and you’re mad that I called you? But now, I understood. Henry was a simple man. Like most men, he wanted a wife to make his life easier, not harder. The thrill of the chase was for dating; marriage was for comfort, for peace, for enjoying the warmth of a home without any effort. I stepped closer and wrapped my arms around his neck, nuzzling him like a cat. “I know,” I whispered. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called. I was panicking and wasn’t thinking about what was happening on your end. You just spent months roughing it in the mountains. You need to relax. Get in the bath. We can talk about it after you’ve rested, okay?” I stroked his cheek. I could feel the tension drain out of him. For once, he didn’t lash out. He let out a long sigh, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. “Clara, if only you were always this understanding.”

3 I knew why he said that. I was eight years younger than him, practically still a kid when we got married. When we were dating, he’d spoiled me rotten, giving me anything I wanted. After I got pregnant, my parents moved in. As their only child, they doted on me, turning me into even more of a princess. Henry used to joke that he felt less like he’d married a wife and more like he’d adopted a daughter. I thought it was a sign of his love. Then I saw him with Serena. She was so subservient to him that when his shoelace came undone, she would drop to her knees and tie it for him. Henry would look at her, his heart melting. “You don’t have to do that. I can get it.” Serena would just smile. “I know. But I want to take care of you. You had it so rough with Clara. Let me be the one to love you now. Let me spoil you.” Her words were like a magic spell. He would pull her into his arms, his voice thick with emotion. “Thank you, baby. I never knew what love was until I met you. Come on, let’s go to the mall. I’ll buy you a new Louis Vuitton.” Serena would feign protest. “Oh, honey, you work so hard for your money. You don’t need to spend it on me.” But she never said no. Instead, she’d kiss him deeply. I watched them like a creep, a ghost from his past, as they strolled hand-in-hand through the luxury boutiques. Henry, who was always so quick to anger with me, was a sea of calm with Serena. If he ever raised his voice, she would gently place a hand on his chest and whisper, “Easy, honey. You’re scaring me when you talk so loud.” And he would instantly soften, docile as a puppy. Watching her masterful performance, I finally understood how naive I’d been. Henry was a catch. Parents deceased, ruggedly handsome, and a titan in the industry. Marrying him had been like winning the lottery. He’d moved my parents into the sprawling mansion he’d bought, and we all lived under his roof. He was gone for months at a time filming, and the $50,000 he sent every month was more than enough for us to live in luxury. On top of that, there were the diamond necklaces, the designer bags, and the million-dollar checks he’d write for my parents at the end of the year. He wasn’t reckless with his fortune, either. He invested in real estate and had set up a massive education fund for our son. He was a perfect man, aside from his foul temper. Why on earth had I ever thought of letting him go? I wanted to slap myself for being so foolish, for ruining my life and the lives of my family. This time, I would take a page out of Serena’s book. I would conquer him with softness. I refused to fail again.

4 The next day, Henry slept in until noon. Just like they always did, my parents kept his breakfast warm in the oven, waiting for him to wake up. I put Leo down for his nap and ate a couple of pastries. My mom sidled up to me, nudging me in the ribs. “Well, look at you. Being a good girl today? Not a single complaint about Henry sleeping in?” In the past, my patience would have worn thin by 10 a.m. I would have stormed into the bedroom, ripped the covers off him, and yelled at him for disrespecting my parents by not eating with the family. This time, I just smiled at her. “He’s exhausted from filming, Mom. Let him sleep. I’m a mother now, I can’t keep acting like a child.” “Oh, honey, come listen to this!” my mom called out to my dad, laughing. “Our daughter says she’s grown up!” Watching my parents chuckle together, a familiar ache bloomed in my chest. In my last life, when I’d insisted on the divorce, we had very little money. To maintain our standard of living, they’d both had to find jobs in their old age. I couldn’t imagine how they managed after I died. And Leo. He was just a baby, left without a mother. The pain was so sharp it brought tears to my eyes. Just then, Henry opened the bedroom door and saw me, my face streaked with tears. Something in his chest clenched. He walked over. “What’s wrong? Who upset you?” I quickly wiped my eyes and shook my head. “No one. I was just thinking how lucky I am, how happy this life is.” Henry stared at me, another flicker of surprise in his eyes. After he showered, he took his seat at the head of the table. I served him a plate of food and a bowl of soup. “Mom was simmering this all morning. Try it.” He took a sip, his face stern. “It’s good. But a bit heavy on the garlic next time.” My mom smiled awkwardly. “Oh, but the pork belly needs garlic to cut the richness.” “Then find another way,” he said dismissively. “The French cook without garlic all the time and their food is incredible. You have to think outside the box, not just stick to the old ways.” There it was, that familiar, overbearing tone. I felt the old anger rising in my throat. I took a deep breath, forcing it down. “Okay, we’ll try a different recipe next time. I hope you still like everything else. The fish is really good.” I placed a piece of fish on his plate. The rest of the meal was tense. Everyone but Henry ate carefully, cautiously. Afterward, he was heading out for a meeting. He grabbed his phone. “Clara, I transferred $500,000 to your account. Go buy something nice for your parents.” He paused at the door. “Director Zhao wants to go over a script with me. I might be home late.” He’d just gotten back last night, and he was already leaving again. He hadn’t even seen Leo. My first instinct was to ask him to stay a little longer, to at least say hello to his son so the boy wouldn’t forget his face. But then I thought better of it. Of course the golden goose had to go out and make more gold.

5 By the time Henry left, it was already evening. With my parents at home watching Leo, I grabbed my purse and headed to the mall. I’d been suffocating for too long. In the six months between the divorce and the car crash in my past life, I hadn’t bought a single new thing for myself. I walked into the designer boutique and bought every single item I’d seen Henry buy for Serena. I was just stepping out, my arms loaded with bags, when I saw her walking toward me. Serena’s eyes flickered over my haul, a flash of envy in their depths. “Clara, why did you block me?” I met her gaze, my voice cool. “I just didn’t feel like talking.” “We’ve been best friends for five years. You can’t just cut me off like that.” “Yes, I can.” “But why? Clara, you at least owe me a reason.” “We’re just too different.” The last thing I needed was someone constantly whispering in my ear, telling me to leave my golden goose. But Serena wouldn’t give up. She grabbed my arm. “I don’t think I’ve done anything to deserve this. Unless… unless it’s because I gave you some advice when you and Henry were fighting. But I was just trying to help you! A man like Henry, what good is he, really?” I let out a short, sharp laugh. “If he’s so useless, why is he so coveted?” Serena’s face paled. “Who… who’s coveting him? Are you saying… he’s cheating on you?” “Oh, I think we both know who I’m talking about.” I was done with her. I turned to walk away. But I had underestimated her shamelessness. Two days later, she showed up at my door, arms full of gifts, acting as if nothing had happened. My parents, unaware of our falling out, welcomed her in with smiles. “Serena, you’re here! Clara and Henry are still asleep. Would you like to wait?” Serena didn’t answer right away. Her eyes scanned the enormous house, lingering for a moment on the new Hermès bag I’d left in the corner. I came down the stairs just in time to catch the envy on her face. “What are you doing here?” She snapped back to the present. “I came to explain.” Before she could continue, Henry came downstairs, dressed in casual loungewear. A faint love bite was still visible on his neck from our fooling around the night before. Serena’s expression soured. “Honestly, Henry, you two are a little much. There are parents and a child in the house. You could at least try to cover that up.” Henry never liked being criticized, especially in public. He shot her a glare. “This is my house. What I wear is none of your business.” Serena realized her mistake. She forced a conciliatory smile. “You’re right, I’m sorry. I just came by because Clara was so upset when her parents were in the hospital. She said some pretty awful things about you, and I was worried about your marriage.” At her words, Henry’s face darkened with rage. “Clara, you talked about me behind my back?” Serena jumped in. “I told her you had your reasons, but she wouldn’t listen. I think she resents you, feels like you think you can just buy her off. She said you’re a terrible husband and a worse father, always busy with work and never there when it counts. She said any random man off the street would be more useful than you.”

6 As Henry’s expression grew stormier, my mom couldn’t stay silent any longer. “Serena, are you here to mediate or to pour gasoline on the fire? Every word out of your mouth is poison.” I gently held her back. “Mom, you and Dad go upstairs. I’ll handle this.” Once they were gone, I turned to Serena. “Serena, did you really come all this way just to tell him that?” She lifted her chin defiantly. “I was worried you couldn’t handle your husband. We’re best friends. I don’t want to see you get hurt.” “Right.” I walked over to Henry and looped my arm through his, my first priority to diffuse his anger. “I’m so sorry, honey,” I said softly. “I had a fever that day, I wasn’t thinking straight. The words just came out.” I looked up at him, my eyes wide and pleading. “You can yell at me, hit me, whatever you want. Just don’t be angry. Please, let’s get you some breakfast before your stomach starts hurting.” Henry’s face was a stone mask, but he didn’t pull away. I led him to the dining table and ladled a bowl of oatmeal for him. “You love the artisanal pickles, let me get you some.” His voice was hard. “No. First, explain what she was talking about.” His hand was hot, his muscles coiled with tension. He was barely holding his anger in check. If I had tried to defend myself out of pride, it would have erupted into a full-blown war. But this time, I just focused on him, my voice trembling with concern. Then I knelt beside his chair, taking his hand and pressing it against my cheek. “Henry, do you know what happened that day? Leo’s fever shot up to 105. He had a febrile seizure. The doctor said if we’d been a few minutes later, it could have been… permanent.” Tears started to well up in my eyes. “My dad was vomiting blood, my mom had an inflammation of the heart… it felt like my whole family was knocking on death’s door. And I was alone. I was trying so hard to hold it all together, and when Serena showed up, it was like she was a lifeline. I just… I broke down. I said things I shouldn’t have.” Fat tears rolled down my cheeks as I rested my head on his knee. “I know I was wrong. I should never have tarnished your reputation like that. Please… punish me. I’ll never do it again. I’m so sorry, Henry, I’m so, so sorry.” I sobbed, my body shaking. Showing weakness, turning on the waterworks… I’m a Juilliard-trained actress, after all. A few tears are nothing. At first, Henry just watched me, his expression cold. But as my crying intensified, my nose turning red, my breath catching in ragged gasps, he finally moved. He let out a deep sigh and pulled me to my feet, wrapping his arms around me. “Okay, okay, stop crying,” he murmured into my hair. “It’s fine. I’m not mad anymore.”