Rebirth In High School: Dumping My Jerk Husband

Back to that Day

Joanna woke up with a sharp gasp, heart pounding like a war drum in her chest. Her breath came in ragged pulls, as if clawing her way back to the surface of something deep and dark. The air was strangely cold—and familiar.

Her vision swam for a moment before it cleared. In front of her was a face she knew all too well.

Michael.

Her husband.

But not the man she last saw—the cold, distant husband who barely acknowledged her cries from the hospital bed. 

No.

This Michael was younger. High school uniform. His expression was bored, almost indifferent, as he handed her the ballpen that had rolled off her desk.

“You dropped this,” he said flatly.

Joanna took the pen with trembling fingers. Her eyes darted around the classroom. Her breath caught in her throat.

The cracked blackboard. The worn-down chairs. The scent of chalk and cheap perfume. It was unmistakable.

She was back.

Back in her high school days.

Back in the bittersweet, sunlit corridors of youth—the time when everything felt possible, and yet, her heart had never been more vulnerable.

It was the same day. The same moment etched in her memory like a scar—when Michael first transferred to her school. The day their eyes met for the first time, after all her quiet, failed attempts to catch his attention.

And the day she made the most devastating mistake of her life.

She believed love—her love—would be enough. 

Enough to change him.

Enough to hold him.

Enough to save her from the heartbreak she never saw coming.

But standing there now, older in soul and wiser in pain, she felt the weight of that moment settle in her chest again. This time, she wouldn’t make the same mistake. This time, she was no longer the girl who thought love alone could heal the cracks he never intended to mend.

Her hands flew to her stomach in a panic.

 Flat.

Empty.

A silent sob crawled up her throat.

Her baby. The child she carried with trembling joy, the tiny heartbeat that once echoed in her womb, was gone.

Snuffed out in a heartbeat—along with her own life—on that cold, cruel day at the pedestrian lane.

She had been eight months pregnant. Waiting at the crossing. Thinking about dinner. Thinking about naming their daughter. 

Then the impact. Metal. Screams. Darkness.

And now... this.

Her second chance.

Tears welled in her eyes, but she blinked them away. Not here. Not now. She turned her gaze to Michael once more. He was looking at her strangely, probably wondering why she looked like she’d seen a ghost.

But he didn’t know. He would never know.

Because this time—

She would never love him. She would never waste her life on someone who looked at her like she was nothing.

This time, Joanna would save herself.

Michael’s brows creased slightly, confusion flickering in his eyes. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice low, almost hesitant. 

Joanna wiped her tears hastily and looked away. “I’m fine,” she whispered, her throat tight.

Before he could say anything else, a voice rang across the room—sweet, familiar, and sharp as a blade in her memory. 

“Michael!”

Joanna froze.

That voice. Blanca.

The girl with the delicate laugh and eyes that always sparkled just for him. The one he chased, worshipped, and waited for—even when she walked away without looking back. 

Years later, she returned, and without hesitation, Michael chose her again. Over Joanna. Over their unborn child. Over everything they were supposed to be.

Joanna’s grip tightened on the pen in her hand as memories surged—memories of loneliness, betrayal, and a love that had left her hollow. 

Let them have their tragic fairytale. Let Blanca smile and Michael follow her like a moth to a flame. This time, Joanna would not be the one burning.

This time, she would not fight for a love that never wanted her.

She inhaled deeply, letting the weight of her new beginning settle in her chest. The pain was still there, but beneath it burned something fiercer—clarity.

Let them continue their love story.

This time, she would write her own. 

She turned her gaze away from Michael, away from the ghost of the girl she used to be, and whispered silently to the future:

You won’t break me again.

No more chasing shadows. No more begging to be seen.

This time, she would live for herself. She would rise. And she would never look back.

The bell rang, sharp and jarring, pulling Joanna from her thoughts. Students shuffled out, laughing, gossiping—normal. Innocent. She moved slower, as if she didn’t belong in this version of herself anymore. 

Outside, the hallway buzzed with noise. Joanna caught sight of Blanca again, clinging to Michael’s arm like a prophecy already being fulfilled. Her stomach turned—but this time, not from heartbreak.

She walked past them without a glance.

That was her first act of defiance.

No hesitation. No lingering looks. No silent prayers.

Just silence and strength. 

As she stepped into the courtyard, the sun hit her face, warm and blinding. It was then she did something she never did before—not in this timeline.

She took the necklace off.

It was a small thing. A silver chain with a tiny pendant—the first gift Michael had given her years ago. In her last life, she wore it like a talisman, a promise. A chain. It came along with her.

She held it in her palm for a moment.

Then she let it fall into the ground beside the school gate.

The sound it made—soft, final—was her first moment of true freedom.

Joanna lifted her chin.

This time, she was choosing herself.

She didn’t go to the cafeteria for lunch like before. Instead, she turned right, heading straight to the guidance office.

There, on the wall, was a faded poster she barely remembered from the first time: Scholarship Program - Arts and Design Track. Apply Now.

She stared at it for a moment, heart pounding.

In her past life, she had let go of her dreams. Her love for painting was something she buried beneath responsibilities, sacrifices, and the ever-tightening grip of a one-sided love. She gave everything to Michael. 

Not this time.

This time, she’d fight for her talent.

She stepped into the office, cleared her throat, and faced the startled guidance counselor.

“I want to switch tracks,” she said firmly. “I want to apply for the arts scholarship.”

Her voice didn’t waver.

It was her first bold decision in this new life.

And it felt right.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Joanna was walking a path that led to her.

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Next Chapter: Rebirth