My three-year-old daughter was playing in the room, and she suddenly fell from the window of the room and died.

In my past life, I held her lifeless body after learning the news, crying so hard I thought I would never stop.

But when my husband rushed back, he slapped me across the face without a second thought.

"How could you be so cruel? You actually threw her out of the window—she was only three!"

I was too stunned to react.

Later, my husband and my best friend teamed up and testified that I had thrown my daughter from the window because I had an argument with my husband.

I was cyberbullied and labeled the "evil mom". Amid the public hatred and the pain of losing my daughter, I jumped to prove my innocence.

Even in death, I still didn't understand.

My daughter had been fine playing in the room—how did she fall out of the window?

When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day she fell.

The shrill ring of the phone yanked me back to reality.

I stared at the screen, feeling a cold dread creeping over me as I realized the call was from the property management. My mind raced—this was the call informing me that my daughter had fallen from the building.

I grabbed the phone and rushed downstairs, my heart pounding in my chest. When I saw her lying in a pool of blood, I froze. In her tiny hand, she still clutched her favorite bunny doll.

It was all exactly like the last time.

In my previous life, I had been washing her clothes in the bathroom while she played in her room. Then came the phone call—the one that told me she had fallen and died.

I rushed out of the bathroom, my heart in my throat, and found her room empty. The window was wide open.

I ran downstairs frantically, not even realizing I had lost one of my slippers. When I saw her body, my world crumbled. I burst into tears and screamed like a mad woman.

I didn't understand. I was so sure I had closed the window. How was it open?

Just then, my husband Cody Yates rushed in. He pushed through the crowd that had gathered around me. Without a word, he slapped me hard across the face.

"Jasmine Zephyr, are you out of your mind? How could you throw our daughter out of the window? She's only three! No matter how much we fight, you shouldn't have done this to our daughter. What are you even trying to prove with this act?"

Cody's eyes were red, and his face was streaked with tears as he yelled at me.

The people around me didn't know what to say to a mother who had lost her child. They wiped away their tears quietly as they watched the scene unfold.

But after hearing my husband's words, the area erupted in a mix of voices.

"Wait, what? She threw the child out of the window? How could she be so heartless?"

"What kind of mother does that?"

"Call the police! They need to arrest her!"

Things were unfolding just as they had in my previous life. I slowly raised my head and looked into Cody's eyes.

"Where did you come from?"

Cody blinked in surprise at my question.

The people around me were shocked by my cold reaction. I actually had the nerve to ask where my husband had come from. They couldn't stop whispering and pointing at me, some even holding up their phones to snap pictures.

Soon after, the police took us to the station, and the coroner prepared to examine my daughter's body.

I stared at the scene before me, my mind going blank.

My sweet, precious daughter.

She was lying there now, motionless.

She used to call me "Mommy" all the time. She was always so obedient, never crying or causing a fuss. She was easy to take care of. While I did the housework, she would entertain herself quietly, playing alone in her room.

That was why I left her alone in the room.

In my previous life, I kept insisting I had closed the window. A three-year-old didn't have the strength to unlock a window and jump out.

I couldn't explain how that could have happened.

In the end, there wasn't enough evidence to charge me with murder, but that didn't stop the internet from branding me as the "evil mom."

I was torn apart by online trolls. They altered my pictures, turning them into memorial photos, and some people even threw rotten vegetables and eggs at me.

And Cody, the man who once said he loved me? He went live, publicly accusing me of being insane. He claimed I used our daughter to manipulate him, that whenever we argued, I would threaten to kill her and then kill myself.

Losing my daughter had already left me shattered, but I never expected the man who once claimed to love me to fan the flames of public outrage and turn the masses against me.

I knelt before him, begging him to believe me, to understand that I hadn't thrown our daughter out that window. My voice cracked as I asked why he would fabricate such a monstrous lie.

But my pleas only fueled another wave of online hysteria.

His carefully crafted image as the devoted, long-suffering husband worked its magic. People who knew us stepped forward to defend him, praising his patience with my supposed temper and his endless tolerance of my so-called flaws.

Even my best friend, Yvonne Smith, went live on her social media. She told everyone I had once confided in her that if Cody didn't behave, I would throw our daughter out of the window to make him regret it for the rest of his life.

I was paralyzed with disbelief, unable to defend myself against such betrayal.

And the comments online only got worse.

[If even her husband and best friend say she's like this, how could it not be true?]

[She's pure evil. She killed her own daughter. Someone like her deserves to die!]

[Why isn't there enough evidence to put her in jail? How could someone like her escape justice? It's so unfair!]

With my husband and best friend's accusations spreading like wildfire, the internet was flooded with hateful messages. I couldn't leave my house—not even to grab a meal, as no restaurant owner would serve me.

In the depths of my agony, I went live on social media. I stood on the roof, hoping to clear my name. But the comments poured in relentlessly, urging me to jump.

The final thread of my sanity snapped, and I leaped.

In those final moments, I couldn't comprehend how the two people I once trusted most could harbor such hatred for me.

Together, they had sent me crashing into the abyss.

"How could a child have opened the window?" The officer asked me, his voice sharp.

"That's what I'm wondering. I believe there was someone else in the house that day," I replied. "I need a full investigation into this, for my daughter's sake."

The officer's expression hardened, and he nodded gravely. "According to protocol, before we can continue our investigation, we have to hold you for 48 hours."

My nails dug into the palms of my hands. I forced myself to stay calm and think this through.

By this time in my previous life, my personal information had already been plastered across the internet.

The entire online world buzzed with heated discussions about the case.

As expected, the overwhelming majority were condemning me, their words sharp and merciless.

Meanwhile, my so-called best friend stood before the media with tears streaming down her face, putting on a show for the cameras.

"I'm Jasmine's best friend, and I've known her for over a decade," she sobbed, her voice quivering. "We've been friends since middle school. We've been there for each other through everything. I watched her get married, and I thought she was happy. I never imagined something like this could happen.

"She always asked me to keep things quiet, but she would say... awful things sometimes.

"Last time, she told me she wanted to throw Phoebe out of the window after an argument with Cody. She said it would hurt him and make him feel the pain of losing their daughter. I thought she was just venting, so I tried to calm her down. I never thought she would actually do it.

"Oh, Phoebe... that sweet three-year-old. She was so young, so sweet. Every time she saw me, she would call me 'Aunt Yvonne' in the most adorable way."

Yvonne's tear-filled eyes looked up at the cameras, her words carefully crafted to paint me as a monster. She and Cody were working together, and their coordinated story set the internet on fire.

Cody took a different approach. He went live and sobbed uncontrollably.

"It's all my fault. I shouldn't have gone on that business trip. I left Phoebe with Jasmine. I wanted to give Phoebe the best life possible, so I worked so hard to provide. But in doing that, I neglected my wife. We had problems we didn't fix, and that led to this tragic end."

His voice broke as he spoke about the news of his daughter's death, his anguish spilling over in raw, unfiltered pain. In a shocking display of self-reproach, he slapped his own face—hard—again and again, the force of it leaving his cheeks swollen and bright red with handprints.

His emotional breakdown was so intense that it struck a chord with viewers across the country. The livestream was flooded with support, virtual gifts pouring in as viewers sent words of encouragement through the chat.

[That woman is pure evil. I saw the video of her after her daughter's death—her expression was so cold.]

[How could such a good man end up with someone like that? Now, his child is gone... it's just so tragic, so unfair.]

[She must be locked up. Anyone who could kill their own flesh and blood is nothing but an animal!]

The livestreams, social media platforms, and news outlets were saturated with coverage of the incident. Everywhere I turned, I was met with an onslaught of insults and curses hurled at me. There was no escape, no reprieve.

But this time, I didn't crumble.

In my past life, Yvonne and Cody's accusations and fabricated stories had left me devastated, hopeless, and drowning in public condemnation. With nowhere to turn, I had borne the weight of every hateful word and attack.

This time, I was waiting for my chance to confront them and expose the truth.

After 48 hours, I was released from the police station and took a cab back to my apartment complex.

The place was crawling with reporters, cameras, and curious onlookers. Some had even been camped out, waiting for me. As soon as I arrived, their phones and cameras turned toward me in unison.

Yvonne was the first to rush over, grabbing my hand.

"Jasmine, you have to explain yourself! Did you really push Phoebe out the window? You didn't do it, right?"

I looked at her with cold detachment. She acted like she was trying to comfort me, but I could see through her—she was using my daughter's death to provoke me, hoping to see me break down and lose control.

I pulled my hand away sharply.

"According to the coroner's report, Phoebe's injuries are consistent with a fall from a high place. She died from falling."

Yvonne raised her voice dramatically, pretending to be shocked. "Jasmine, you were the only one with her at the time. How could you let her fall?"

Cody stepped in, grabbing my arm and shaking me roughly.

"How... how could you do this?" His voice was trembling with emotion. "She was so young and so good. What did she ever do to you?

"I took care of her from the moment she was born. I fed her, changed her, and soothed her to sleep. I did all of those things every day. I watched her grow up, and now you... you killed her. How could you do that? How could you be cruel?"

He kept questioning me, and his eyes were red from crying. Finally, he fell to his knees.

I looked at him with an indifferent expression, then said, "She didn't do anything wrong. She was good, obedient, and sweet. Just recently, on Mother's Day, she made me a drawing and hugged me, wishing me a happy Mother's Day."

As I spoke these words calmly, the crowd grew angrier, calling me cold-hearted and heartless.

"Then why did you kill her?" A voice shouted from the crowd, echoing through the mob.

Suddenly, bottles of water and food wrappers were thrown at me. People yelled at me, calling me a monster and a demon. Some raised their fists, ready to strike me down as if they were the righteous avengers.

Yvonne and Cody seemed pleased with the scene, and they cried even harder.