I Dump My Ex After I Wake Up

The smell of disinfectant was like a cold snake, crawling into my nostrils. I struggled to open my eyes, and in the blurry white light, two faces both familiar and strange appeared. The man was Eric Jones, my nominal husband. In his eyes, there was no joy of reunion after long separation, only a faint trace of barely noticeable irritation. Standing beside him was Nick Jones, my son whom I had loved most before I slipped into coma. He should be twelve this year, and had grown quite a lot, but his look towards me was full of distance. "Mom, why are you awake?" Nick Jones's voice was hoarse, caught in the middle of his voice change, and the impatience in his tone felt like needles pricking tightly at my chest. Eric Jones cleared his throat, interrupting his son. "The doctor said you're recovering well. It's good that you woke up." His tone was as flat as if he were talking about the weather. I wanted to speak, but my throat was so dry I couldn't make a sound. The nurse handed me a cup of warm water. I sipped it slowly and finally found the strength to speak. "How... long have I been in a coma?" My voice was hoarse and broken, trembling with a quiver I hadn't even noticed in myself. "Three years." Eric Jones said the two words, his gaze drifting toward the window. "A full three years, Wendy." A full three years, Wendy? That number hit me like a heavy blow, leaving me dizzy and unsettled. I clearly remember being transported back to the real world after completing the system's final task—how could I have been in a coma for three years? What happened during those three years? I looked at Nick Jones, but he deliberately avoided my gaze. "Dad was supposed to marry Annie." He mumbled, his voice low but each word crisp, "Annie is already pregnant. Now that you're awake, everything's become complicated." Annie? I was stunned, my mind completely blank. Who is Annie? Why is Eric marrying her? Eric's expression darkened as he snapped, "Nick, don't say too much things." But his denial was utterly unconvincing; the panic in his eyes betrayed him. My heart sank little by little, cold despair spreading through my entire body. During the three years I was in a coma, my husband had long since fallen out of love, even planning to start a family with another woman. And my son, shockingly, wished I would never wake up—just because that woman named Annie was carrying Eric's child. "So," I took a deep breath, swallowing the lump in my throat, "you're all just waiting for me to die, aren't you?" Eric didn't deny it but frowned, his tone edged with impatience, "Wendy, it's not what you think. These past three years haven't been easy for me either." "Not easy?" I laughed, tears streaming down my face. "Eric, I'm your wife. Is this really how you treat me?" Nick stood to the side and whispered, "Annie is really good to me. She buys me game consoles and takes me to amusement parks. She treats me better than you do." That sentence was like a sharp knife, piercing through my last line of defense. I looked at the father and son before me and felt utterly estranged.