When I Asked My Husband for a Divorce, He Said He’d Be Bringing Home a Young Woman, So I Left - 23

Huh? What!? Whose voice is that?

Right now, there should only be my mother, wet nurse, and maids in the room.

“Perhaps you can’t sleep even though you’re sleepy?”

As I continued to fuss, my mother began singing a lullaby.

“Hmm. A good song for you indeed.”

Even though I could hear the words so clearly, my mother’s singing didn’t stop.

“No one else can hear me.”

…God?

“Indeed. You needn’t be on guard. Most sympathize with you.”

Most.

“Your conjecture is correct. We hear human emotions more clearly when they’re strong—wishes, joy, gratitude, anger, and hatred alike. Some gods might even delight in hearing hatred directed at them and reach out to ‘admire’ it. Calming your mind was the right choice.”

…If you could hear me, then isn’t it already too late…?

“I only spoke because you’re clever enough to start worrying unnecessarily. Well, since you were born under the gods’ protection, you’re already known to us. From now on, you’ll always be watched… or rather, observed by the gods.”

You clearly said “watched.” Even gods can slip up, huh…?

Protection. That word was used back then too. What exactly is this “protection”?

“Hmm. It’s nothing major. Sympathetic gods placed a ward (protection) on you to deflect interference from those who’d meddle for amusement. As long as no one interferes, you’re no different from any other human.”

So even if I hurl insults at gods, no one can mess with me… That’s the best protection ever.

“Hence, don’t dwell on it. Just recall our words and live as your heart desires. Pondering the ways of the world is futile for mortals. And stop with the insults.”

Words… Right. Thank you, reasonable god.

“You have ulterior motives, don’t you? Well, can’t be helped.”

With that, the voice abruptly ended.

“Shar, you’re drenched in sweat. No fever… Are you too hot? Let’s change your clothes.”

…That was terrifying.

Even with gentle treatment, a god is still a god.

I was so scared I broke out in sweat.

The best I could manage was a tiny bit of snark.

After being changed, the fresh clothes felt nice, and this time, my body finally succumbed to sleep.

In the space between sleep and wakefulness, I revisited the gods’ words.

The reasonable god’s message was a warning—don’t be consumed by anger, and remember what was said. It’s infuriating, but I’ll take it at face value.

Slowly retracing their words, I pieced together what I understood.

Ixel truly considered me his “beloved.”

Charlotte—if she ever realizes her selfishness leads to irreversible consequences—would awaken as a Duel, not just wielding divine power but summoning gods themselves to end the war against monsters.

Right as we spoke, she awakened, and the God of War descended.

My mother wished for me to be born as her child.

Her child? When I looked at her, I saw her radiant smile, and the next moment, I was crying my first cry.

I was given a choice—to be reborn as “myself” with memories intact or to forget and start anew.

I chose.

I chose to remain myself, to be born as who I am.

Ixel loved me.

But even with divine revelation, it was Ixel himself who chose to indulge Charlotte’s whims and stand by her side instead of mine.

The moment he ignored my letter requesting separation and prepared rooms to bring Charlotte home, even if unconsciously, I was already rejected by Ixel.

That letter to the steward was the final nail in the coffin.

Still, I chose to remember.

I can’t imagine ever wanting someone more than him, but maybe I’ll live this granted life to the fullest, watching from the sidelines as he chooses another.

Or maybe I’ll fight and fight until I take him back.

Honestly, if Ixel is the same Ixel I knew, even if he learns of my rebirth, I doubt he’d come to see me.

He’d probably mutter excuses—about not being able to face me or how staying away is for my sake—and run away endlessly.

And Charlotte might be right there beside him as he flees.

Still, I know nothing will begin unless I confront Ixel directly.

I think Ixel owes me an apology first. Face to face.

If he truly loves me, he should know I’d never be happy hearing he left without a word to stand by another woman, all while claiming it was to protect me.

I want him to bow his head and apologize sincerely.

We can talk about the future after that.

I might cry again, but I’m done wallowing.

I might suffer for my choices.

Even so, I chose to remain myself, to be born as Charlotta Ecklund and settle things with Ixel.

So, shall I go?

Even after I asked for a divorce, he ignored me, brought home a young woman everyone gossiped about, and drove me away.

I fell ill, met death, was reborn by the gods as myself again, and now I’m chasing after Ixel.

Life never goes as planned.

…That’s exactly why it’s worth living.

Fine.

Joy exists because of hardship.

I’ve always been stubborn, after all.

This life? I’ll take it head-on.

Watch my choices, gods.

I’ll grab Ixel by the scruff of his neck if I have to, and make him face me.

Face me, and make him say it all—not through letters or gods’ words, but directly to me.

That he loves me, that he’s struggling, that he’s hurting, happy, or petty—I’ll make him say everything.

I’ll never forget what Ixel did to me, and I’ll never forgive him.

But beyond that, whether we stay together… whether he stays with me… we’ll decide with our hearts in that moment.

Prepare yourself, Ixel.

Next, the final chapter (from Charlotte’s perspective).