As the college entrance exams approached, I paid the top student in our class to tutor me.

But the day she came over, she brought along her childhood sweetheart and insisted that he join our study sessions.

I declined her request politely, and she did not press the matter further.

The boy left my house in defeat and was struck by a car, suffering injuries so severe that they left him crippled. He could no longer continue his education and was forced to drop out, taking on grueling manual labor to survive.

The girl continued tutoring me nonetheless. We both gained admission to the same university, grew close over time, fell in love, got married, and started a family.

But on the night of our wedding anniversary, Sharon slipped poison into my soup and watched impassively as I began to convulse and vomit blood, the crimson stain spreading slowly across the floor.

"This is what you owe Harry," she said with cold venom. "Taste what it's like to lose all hope."

It turned out that she had harbored resentment toward me for all those years.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day she first came to my house with her friend.

It was our fifth wedding anniversary. The moment I stepped through the door, I saw a lavish array of dishes spread across the dining table.

My wife, Sharon Flores, placed a gentle hand on her abdomen and smiled up at me. "I've prepared a special surprise for you."

I immediately assumed she meant she was pregnant, and joy overwhelmed me to the point that I lost all sense of direction. I didn't question it even when I caught the faint, bitter odor rising from the bowl of soup she handed me.

Five minutes after I finished it, a searing pain tore through my stomach.

"Ow, my stomach hurts so much," I groaned.

Her lips curved into a chilling smile. "Well, it should."

Cold sweat drenched my body, and before I could fully grasp what was happening, she kicked me viciously in the gut.

Our marriage had never been as passionately intertwined as some young couples', but we had always enjoyed a peaceful harmony, never exchanging harsh words, let alone laying a hand on one another.

I looked up at her, overwhelmed by shock and terror. I didn't know what was going on.

Another wave of throbbing pain radiated from deep within me, and tears streamed down my face despite my efforts to hold them back. Through clenched teeth, I begged her to take me to the hospital.

Instead of helping, she turned around and locked the door. Her silhouette loomed above me.

"Please, help me," I pleaded, not understanding why she would turn on me like this.

She positioned herself with her back to the light, her face shrouded in shadow, her expression impossible to read.

"If it weren't for what you did back then," she hissed, "Harry would never have been hit by that car. He wouldn't have had to drop out of school, work degrading jobs, or marry into a family as little more than a servant. You ruined his life. Now taste what it's like to lose all hope."

Her voice cracked on those last two words. Blood began to seep from the corners of my mouth, and her curses burned in my ears.

Through the haze of pain, I pieced together the events that had led to this betrayal.

The previous evening, during a business dinner, Sharon had overheard colleagues discussing how Harry Hammond's in-laws had publicly humiliated him.

In retaliation, she had decided to inflict upon me every ounce of suffering he had endured.

Years ago, my only "offense" had been politely refusing to let her bring Harry along to my tutoring sessions. On his way home, he had been hit by a car, but that wasn't my fault.

Yet Sharon put the blame on me, hating me ever since. If her hatred ran so deep, why had she married me? Why had she accepted my kindness and support so readily?

I bit down hard on my lip, refusing to plead any further. The blood continued to flow, forming dark, irregular patches on the floor beneath me, as if it were carving a river of loss through my body.

My vision faded, and in the grip of unbearable torment, I closed my eyes.

"Josh, your classmate is here," my mother called out.

I jerked my head up from the desk, my hands flying instinctively to my mouth and then my stomach.

There was no blood or pain.

My mother knocked on my bedroom door, urging me to go out. I glanced down at the familiar fabric of my high school uniform.

The vivid memories of my final moments lingered in my mind. I sat there in stunned silence for what seemed like an eternity, my thoughts racing to make sense of it all.

Finally, the truth settled in: I had been reborn.

In the living room, Sharon and Harry sat awkwardly on the sofa. As I had feared, today was the day Sharon planned to bring him to my home for tutoring—the very event that had ignited all the misery of my previous life.

When I walked out, Sharon stood up eagerly. "Josh, hi. This is my friend, Harry. His foundation isn't very strong. Could he join us to study?"

Harry watched me from his seat, his brow furrowed slightly, as if the request made him uncomfortable. Sharon noticed, giving his hand a quick, reassuring pat.

My eyes captured their subtle interactions. I shook my head gently but firmly. "I'm sorry, but that's not possible."

In my previous life, I had refused her in the same way, and it had planted the seed of her lifelong resentment.

Harry, looking refined and gentle, transferred to our school during our senior year of high school. When he introduced himself to the class that first day, Sharon was immediately attracted to him.

His family wasn't well-off, and his father was bedridden from a severe disability. Perhaps it was their shared struggles that bonded them so quickly.

Whenever Harry fell behind in his studies, he would approach her desk with worksheets covered in red marks, asking timidly, "Sharon, could you help me solve this problem?"

Sharon would always take the papers and explain each mistake with patient detail, without a trace of the impatience she often showed when helping me.

One day, after scoring dead last on a physics exam, Harry sat alone at his desk, lost in quiet despair. Sharon sent his deskmate away and sat next to him, patiently consoling him.

Later that evening, a bundle of basic knowledge notes was delivered to Harry's desk. Our classmates whispered that they were a perfect match, while my involvement with her seemed increasingly out of place.

But my refusal had nothing to do with jealousy. Three days earlier, I had accidentally overheard Harry talking to a friend in the school bathroom.

"Harry, Sharon seems really into you. Are you two official now?"

"Nah. Take a look at her situation—she's broke. Do you think I'd give up a good life for that? She's just a tool for boosting my grades."

"Good for you! Josh has to pay top dollar for her tutoring."

"That idiot? He couldn't learn his way out of a paper bag. Wait and see. I'll take her right from under him soon enough."

I trembled with anger in the stall, my hands clenched tight, but I stayed silent for two reasons: Sharon was too devoted to him; with the exams looming, I didn't want to upset her by telling her the truth.

Instead, I tried to steer her away from him with subtle suggestions. That was why I turned down her request to include Harry so decisively.

Harry felt humiliated and ran out of my house, but he didn't see the traffic light and was hit by a car, leaving him disabled.

Sharon blamed me and secretly plotted against me. Everything I had done became self-serving, a sacrifice of my youth and life.

In this new chance, I told myself to give up helping others and respect their fate instead.

My refusal hit Sharon like a spark to dry tinder.

"Tutoring just you is one thing," she protested, "but what's the harm in adding Harry and studying together? We're in the most critical phase of the year right now. Can't you think beyond yourself for once?"

Her glare was fierce and accusatory, forcing me to question the idealized view I had once held of her.

Sharon had been the undisputed star of our class—brilliant and proud, but so poor that she often went without proper meals.

I had no real love for studying myself, yet I hired her as a tutor and paid her far more than necessary, all to protect her pride and avoid making it feel like charity.

After graduation, I used my family's connections to get her an internship at my father's company and quietly arranged for her quick promotion to project manager.

After we got married, I handed her full control of the company, trusting her to manage it. And despite everything I did for her, Sharon still plotted to end my life.

There was no way I would make the same mistake again.

Harry looked up at me, his expression one of calculated vulnerability. "If I don't get into university, my father will force me into some dead-end factory job to support us. I really want to keep studying. Please, this would be like saving my life. I'll do anything to repay you."

Sharon's frustration boiled over. "Are you really trying to drive Harry to his death before you stop?"

I took several steps back, wanting distance from their escalating intensity, as if it could somehow contaminate me.

"What kind of talk is that?" I replied calmly. "A life like his is too important for me to take responsibility for."

I pulled out my phone and transferred $1,000 to Sharon's account. Her contact was still at the top of my list—a detail that now felt ominous.

"I've sent your payment for this month," I said evenly. "Our tutoring sessions are over now; there's no need for you to come back. Focus your energy on helping Harry. I won't interfere."

A look of pure glee crossed Harry's face, his eyes lighting up as he turned to Sharon. She ignored him completely, her focus locked on me. Her brows knitted together in disbelief.

"What were you saying?" she stammered. "You're ending the tutoring altogether?"

To make sure she understood, I explained clearly, "You're free from coming here anymore. Harry needs your full attention right now; without it, his chances of getting into university could fall apart."

"But I've been tutoring you for two years," she said. "Aren't you worried that stopping now will ruin your chances on the exams?"

"That's my problem to handle," I said coolly. "Take care."

In my previous life, even after all of Sharon's lessons right up to the end, I had still chosen to study abroad. My grades hadn't improved at all, and I was branded forever as the one who ruined Harry's life.

Looking back, I had been such a fool.

Sharon's hands shook at her sides, her knuckles turning white as she clenched her fists. Through gritted teeth, she said, "Fine. Don't regret this."

With that, she led Harry to storm out.