My husband prided himself on being a modern, enlightened man. When his mother had a heart attack and was rushed to the hospital, I called him, frantic. He replied casually, "Mom's in the hospital. It's serious. You should come now." In the background, I could hear him laughing with his childhood friend Michelle. "Michelle's on her period and needs me here," he said. "Tell you what—I'll bite this chocolate. If the filling is yellow, I'll come. If it's pink, I stay with Michelle." A pause. "Pink. Guess I'm staying. And don’t worry too much about your mom—everyone has their fate." In my past life, I begged and borrowed to save his mother. But when I lay dying in childbirth, my husband showed me a pink-filled chocolate and shrugged. His mother turned away, silent. After I died, I watched him hold Michelle, smug. "What an idiot," he said. "I bought that special chocolate—all pink. If not for the apartment in her name, I wouldn’t have wasted time on her. Only you, Michelle, should carry my child." Now, staring at his box of "decision-making" chocolates, I smiled coldly. You love making choices, don’t you, dear husband? This time, I’ll make sure you have plenty to choose from. 1 "Mia, I have to run out for a bit. You're on your own for dinner." I sat at the table, my mind still reeling, but the words tumbled out of my mouth on instinct. "Where are you going so late? It's my birthday." Mark didn't even pause as he walked to the entryway. He grabbed his coat, his voice laced with impatience. "Michelle just called. She had a nightmare. She's over there crying her eyes out. Am I supposed to just leave her alone?" "Mia, can you be a little more understanding? She's younger than you. What's the big deal with cutting her some slack?" His words finally snapped me back to reality. I looked at the birthday cake on the table and knew, with a chilling certainty, that I had been reborn. Reborn to the day my tragedy began. My birthday. Last time, he'd used those exact words to shut me up, to make me question if I was being too jealous, too petty, for getting upset over a girl a few years younger than me. Back then, desperate to keep our marriage afloat, I had said nothing. I had let him go to Michelle on my birthday. And when Mark came back the next day, he brought a gift and an apology, looking so genuinely sorry. "Honey, I was just so worried yesterday. Michelle and I grew up together. She's like my little sister. Taking care of her is just a habit. You know if I had any feelings for her beyond that, I never would have pursued you so relentlessly." I had believed him. I'd even bought Michelle a gift to make up for my hostility. But this time, I was done being the fool. As he was about to leave, I slammed my hand on the table and stood up, my voice cold. "Michelle's so young? She's twenty-five, Mark. Does she not have parents to comfort her? Does it have to be someone else's husband?" "If you're so in love with her, let's just get a divorce right now. Then you two won't have to sneak around anymore." Mark's face went rigid. He turned, his eyes darting around nervously. "Honey, what are you talking about? You're the only one I love. There's nothing romantic between Michelle and me. I only see her as a sister. Please don't be jealous. I'm just worried something might happen to her." He walked over, put his arm around my shoulder, and picked up the box of chocolates from the table, his tone a mixture of indulgence and exasperation. "Alright, let's let the chocolate decide. If the filling is yellow, I'll stay and celebrate your birthday with you. If it's pink, I'll go check on Michelle." He popped a chocolate into his mouth, and of course, the filling was pink. He looked at the chocolate in his hand, his face showing no surprise or disappointment. "See, honey? The chocolate has decided. There's nothing I can do. Don't worry, I'll make it up to you tomorrow. We'll celebrate your birthday again." Before the words were even fully out of his mouth, he was out the door, without a moment's hesitation. I watched it all unfold with a blank expression. I already knew this would be the outcome. I had no intention of stopping him. Remembering what I had seen after my death, I scanned the room, my eyes landing on the numerous chocolate boxes scattered around our home. I picked up the box Mark had just put down, dumped out the contents, and bit into them, one by one. One, two, three... A laugh escaped my lips. Mark. He really had played me for a fool my entire life. We were colleagues. Shortly after I joined the company, he claimed it was love at first sight and began to pursue me relentlessly. He was thoughtful in every way, bringing me breakfast and dinner, walking me home, even helping me build relationships with my coworkers. When I collapsed at home from a stomach bug, he was the first one to find me, breaking down the door and calling an ambulance. After my parents' divorce, I hadn't experienced that kind of care in a long time. I was moved, and I accepted his proposal. At our wedding, he emotionally vowed to cherish me, to care for me, and to never betray me. I thought we would be happy forever, the picture-perfect couple. But after we were married, for some reason, he developed this habit of letting a chocolate make his difficult decisions. The problem was, his "difficult decisions" always involved Michelle. And the chocolate, time and time again, always chose Michelle. For the sake of our relationship, I conceded, again and again. But he only became more brazen. He even said "everyone has their own fate" about his own mother when she was critically ill, because he'd mistaken her for mine. I had planned to have a serious talk with him after his mother recovered. But then I found out I was pregnant. He was ecstatic. "Honey, we're having a baby! I'll be even better to you and the baby from now on. I'll make you the happiest woman in the world!" His mother held my hand, tears in her eyes. "My dear, you saved my life, and now you're giving our family an heir. You are our greatest treasure. From now on, you are my own daughter." I was so happy. I thought he had truly changed, and I let the past go. But when I was on the operating table, fighting for my life, I heard his cold voice from outside the door. "The chocolate is pink. Let's just stop the resuscitation."
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