The Second Chance After Rebirth

My name is Quincy Scott. At thirty, my life was shattered for the first time. I took Andy out of province for three months of autism intervention therapy. Before I left, Calvin Luke promised to run every morning and send me footage from the home security cameras. I deliberately returned a day early without telling him, wanting to surprise my always busy husband and eager to see the home he said was "being taken care of very well." The high-speed train arrived at six in the morning, just at dawn. I held Andy in my arms, carrying snacks and toys for my son, and took a taxi home. I turned the key in the lock, feeling the familiar resistance under my fingertips, but the red stiletto heels by the entrance froze me. The heels were stained with fresh rose petals, obviously not mine. All my shoes are on the bottom shelf of the shoe cabinet, all flats, so I can easily take care of Andy anytime. But this pair of shoes stands out—sharp and bold, like a thorn piercing my eye. Andy clutched the corner of my shirt, trembling slightly. He's especially sensitive to new places and whispered softly, "Mom, I'm scared." I patted his back to soothe him and pushed the door open. The living room curtains were drawn tight, blocking all light. Only from the master bedroom came heavy, stifled breaths filled with a tense, ambiguous intimacy. That sound stabbed my eardrums like a swarm of needles, coursing through my veins, making chills run all over me. I held my breath, inching closer to the master bedroom. When my hand gripped the doorknob, my fingertips felt ice-cold, as if just pulled from freezing water. I pushed the door gently—it was unlocked. The scene before me emptied my mind—Calvin Luke, shirtless, was pinned over his new intern, Vivian Lincoln. At the last team event, she had sweetly called me 'Quincy.' Vivian was wrapped in my silk nightgown, the hem rumpled around her waist, her cheeks flushed. When she saw me, her eyes flickered panic before turning defiant. "Quincy? Why are you home?" Calvin Luke panicked and pushed Vivian Lincoln away, pulling the blanket over himself, his voice full of helplessness, forgetting to straighten his disheveled shirt. I said nothing, just stared fixedly at him—the man I had loved for eight years, walked with through graduation, and had a child with, now so strange I couldn't recognize him. Andy was frightened by the noise in the room and burst into tears, hugging my leg tightly. "Mom, let's go, I want to go home." I picked up Andy and turned to leave without looking back, not even strong enough to ask a single question. The motion-sensor lights in the hallway flickered on and off with my footsteps, just like my life right now—uncertain, flickering in and out. We moved into the thirty-square-meter apartment we had rented before—damp and dark, a stark contrast to the spacious, bright Luke family home. I hadn't slept all night, sitting by the bed watching Andy's sleeping face. His eyelashes were like little fans; even asleep, he frowns unconsciously, probably unsettled by something from the day. My mind kept replaying the scene in the master bedroom: Calvin Luke's panic, Vivian Lincoln's provocation, and my love and dignity being trampled on. It felt like a huge stone pressing on my chest, making it hard to breathe. Early the next morning, Calvin Luke came over holding a divorce agreement, his face showing a hint of impatience mixed with deliberately concealed guilt. "I know I've wronged you. This is compensation—500,000, plus child support for Andy at 5,000 per month." In my past life, at that moment, I proudly tore up the agreement, shouting, "I don't want your money, I only want Andy," then left with nothing, taking my son and drifting through hardship. But what happened? I was blacklisted in his industry, worked three jobs to support Andy. After curing his autism, he developed early heart failure. I lost my child, and finally ended my life in the basement. "I won't divorce." I spoke, my voice so calm it surprised even me—no hysteria like before, only a cold, seasoned calm born from all I've been through. Calvin Luke froze, looked up at me as if seeing me for the first time: "What did you say? Quincy Scott, stop messing around. It's already over between us." "If you want a divorce, I can do that." I picked up the agreement and wrote down the terms: "A fully paid city-center apartment in my and Andy's names, a 15% transfer of your company's shares, ten thousand in monthly child support for Andy until he graduates from university, plus two million in compensation for emotional distress." I put down the pen and pushed the paper toward him: "If even one of these terms is missing, I won't sign. I'll file for divorce immediately and let everyone know that you, Calvin Luke, cheated on your wife and betrayed your autistic son." Calvin Luke's face instantly flushed a deep liver color, and he slammed the table hard. "Quincy Scott, are you out of your mind? Since when did you become so greedy? You weren't like this before!"