REBIRTH OF THE PATHETIC HUSBAND

A Second Chance

I slowly opened my eyes, the brightness of the room piercing through my consciousness like a blade. A groan escaped my lips as I shifted, my body feeling heavy, my mind foggy. The light was harsh, almost blinding, and I squinted against it, trying to make sense of my surroundings. The first thing I saw was a golden chandelier hanging above me, its crystals catching the light and scattering it in a thousand tiny rainbows across the ceiling. It was beautiful, opulent, and entirely unfamiliar.

I blinked, my mind struggling to catch up. Where was I? What had happened? My thoughts were a jumbled mess, fragments of memories swirling like shards of glass in a storm. And then, like a bolt of lightning, it all came rushing back.

Christopher. The drinks. The car ride. The gun.

My eyes widened as the memories flooded in, sharp and vivid. Christopher had shot me. Three times. I remembered the sound of the gunshots, the searing pain, the way my body had crumpled to the ground. I remembered the blood, the cold, the darkness closing in. And then… something else. Something impossible.

A creature. A figure cloaked in shadows, with eyes that burned like embers and a voice that echoed in the depths of my soul. It had spoken to me, offered me a deal. A second chance. My soul, my body, in exchange for life.

I sat up abruptly, my heart pounding in my chest, and looked down at my body. My hands trembled as I touched my chest, my stomach, searching for the wounds that should have been there. But there was nothing. No blood, no scars, no pain. Just smooth, unbroken skin.

“What the hell…?” I whispered, my voice hoarse.

It wasn’t possible. I had been shot. Three times. I should be dead. But I wasn’t. I was alive. And not just alive—I was whole. Unharmed.

My mind raced, trying to make sense of it. The creature. The deal. Had it been real? I had thought I was hallucinating, that it was just my dying mind playing tricks on me. But now… now I wasn’t so sure. If I was alive, if I was here, then it had to have been real. There was no other explanation.

But who—or what—was that creature?

As if in answer to my unspoken question, a voice broke the silence. Soft, melodic, and undeniably feminine.

“That creature,” the voice said, “was Lucifer.”

I froze, my blood turning to ice. Slowly, I turned my head toward the source of the voice. Sitting on a plush velvet couch in the corner of the room was a woman. No, not a woman—a vision. She was the most beautiful being I had ever seen, her presence so radiant it was almost otherworldly. Her long, dark hair cascaded over her shoulders like a waterfall of ink, and her eyes—a deep, hypnotic shade of crimson—seemed to glow with an inner fire. She wore a flowing red gown that clung to her figure, the fabric shimmering like liquid flame. Every movement she made was graceful, deliberate, as if she were a predator stalking its prey.

She was breathtaking. And terrifying.

“Yeah,” she said, her lips curving into a sly smile. “I’m not from this world.”

My breath caught in my throat. How had she—?

“Yes, I can read your thoughts,” she said, her smile widening. “And before you ask, no, you’re not hallucinating. This is very real.”

I stared at her, my mind reeling. This couldn’t be happening. It had to be a dream, a nightmare. But the room, the chandelier, the woman—it all felt too vivid, too tangible to be anything but real.

She rose from the couch in one fluid motion, her movements impossibly graceful. She was tall, taller than I had realized, and as she walked toward me, I felt a strange mix of awe and fear. She stopped beside the bed and sat down, her crimson eyes locking onto mine. Her hand reached out, her fingers brushing against my cheek in a gesture that was almost tender.

“Lucifer chose well,” she murmured, her voice like velvet. “A handsome vessel. Strong. Resilient. Perfect.”

I flinched at her touch, pulling away slightly. “Who are you?” I asked, my voice trembling despite my efforts to sound steady.

She tilted her head, studying me with those piercing eyes. “My name is Lilith,” she said, her tone almost playful. “I am the wife of Lucifer. And now, thanks to your little deal, he resides within you.”

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. Lucifer. The devil. Inside me. It was impossible. Insane. And yet… it explained everything. The creature I had seen, the deal I had made, the fact that I was alive despite being shot three times.

“This… this can’t be real,” I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper.

Lilith laughed, a sound that was both beautiful and chilling. “Oh, it’s real, darling. Very real. You made a deal with the devil, and now you’re bound to him. Your soul, your body—they belong to him. But don’t worry,” she added, her smile turning almost predatory. “He’s not the only one who’s taken an interest in you.”

I stared at her, my mind spinning. This was too much. Too much to process, too much to comprehend. I had thought my life was a nightmare before, but now… now it was something else entirely. Something darker. Something far more dangerous.

I shook my head, my hands gripping the edge of the bedsheets as if it could anchor me to reality. “This… this has to be some kind of joke,” I muttered, my voice trembling. “I didn’t sell my soul and body to the king of hell. That’s not possible. This isn’t real. It can’t be.”

But even as I said the words, doubt crept in. The memories were too vivid, too raw. The gunshots. The pain. The darkness. And then… that creature. Lucifer. His voice, his presence, the deal he offered. It had felt real. Too real.

I climbed out of the bed, my legs unsteady beneath me, and walked to the window. My hands pressed against the cool glass as I stared out, but I wasn’t really seeing the world outside. My mind was a whirlwind of questions, each one more terrifying than the last. How was this possible? How could I be alive? How could any of this be real?

And then, I felt it—a soft, almost gentle embrace from behind. Lilith’s arms wrapped around me, her presence both comforting and unsettling. Her touch was warm, but it sent a shiver down my spine. I didn’t need to turn around to know it was her. The scent of her perfume, something dark and intoxicating, filled the air, and her voice, low and melodic, whispered in my ear.

“This is real, John,” she said, her breath brushing against my skin. “You made a deal with Lucifer. You gave him your soul, your body. And now… you are him. The devil. The king of hell. This is your reality now.”

I stiffened, my hands tightening on the windowsill. “No,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “No, this can’t be real. This has to be a dream. A nightmare. Something. Anything but this.”

I turned to face her, my heart pounding in my chest. She stood there, her crimson eyes locked onto mine, her expression calm, almost pitying. She reached up, her fingers brushing against my cheek in a gesture that was both tender and possessive.

“What’s there not to believe?” she asked, her voice soft but firm. “You were shot three times. Three times, John. And yet, here you are. Alive. Whole. Unharmed. How else do you explain that?”

I opened my mouth to argue, to protest, but no words came out. She was right. There was no other explanation. No logical, rational way to explain how I was still alive after being shot three times at point-blank range. And yet, the idea that I had made a deal with the devil, that I was now somehow… him… it was too much. Too impossible.

“It’s a lot to take in,” Lilith said, her voice softening. “I understand that. But you can’t deny the truth forever. You made a deal. You accepted his offer. And now, you are Lucifer. The devil. The king of hell. This is who you are now.”

I shook my head, my mind reeling. “No,” I said, my voice breaking. “No, I’m not. I’m just… me. John. I’m not… I’m not him. I’m not the devil.”

Lilith’s expression didn’t change. She simply gazed at me, her eyes filled with a strange mix of pity and amusement. “You can deny it all you want,” she said. “But the truth won’t change. You are Lucifer now. And sooner or later, you’ll have to accept that.”

Her words hung in the air, heavy and unyielding. I wanted to argue, to scream, to wake up from this nightmare. But deep down, I knew she was right. The evidence was right in front of me. I was alive. I was here. And there was no other explanation.

But that didn’t make it any easier to accept.

I turned back to the window, my hands trembling as I pressed them against the glass. The world outside seemed so normal, so ordinary. But I knew that nothing would ever be normal again. Not for me.

Lilith stepped closer, her presence overwhelming. She placed a hand on my shoulder, her touch both comforting and terrifying. “It’s going to be okay,” she said softly. “You’re not alone in this. I’m here. And so is he. You’ll learn to embrace it. To embrace who you are now.”

I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. My mind was still racing, still trying to process everything. But one thing was clear—this was real. This was my life now. And there was no going back.