My son accidentally ate peanuts and suffered a severe allergic reaction.

I threw away all the anti-allergy medication in the house and even hung up when he called 911 for help.

I watched helplessly as his airway swelled shut and he suffocated to death.

In my previous life, when my son struggled to breathe, I immediately drove him to the hospital.

After an intense rescue effort, he survived, and I finally breathed a sigh of relief.

However, my mother-in-law stormed in, furious, accusing me of being a monster and blaming me for nearly killing him.

I hurried to explain that he was fine.

Yet, when I presented the doctor's report and discharge paperwork, I was horrified to discover that they had turned into a death certificate.

My son, who had been resting safely in the ICU, was gone.

He had somehow appeared in the morgue.

Refusing to accept it, I checked the surveillance footage.

However, the footage clearly showed that my son never left the operating room.

Instead, it was just me, talking to myself the entire time.

I had no idea what was happening.

No one believed me.

They locked me in a psychiatric hospital.

In the end, as my condition worsened, a swarm of frenzied patients attacked me and tore me apart alive.

"Mom, I want that one."

The sweet plea of my son's voice pulled me back from my thoughts.

I looked down to see my three-year-old pointing eagerly at a cake behind the glass counter, his big eyes filled with hope.

The saleswoman smilingly chimed in, "This is our latest creation, a peanut-flavored cake with a whopping fifty percent peanut content. And it comes with our very own handmade Chocolate-Covered Peanuts! This is the last piece we have for today."

"I want that one, Mom." He wrapped his little arms around my leg, his determination clear—he was not leaving without that cake.

Memories flooded my mind.

It was my birthday, but it was also a haunting reminder of the past.

In my previous life, my son had a severe peanut allergy attack, just an hour after eating! However, I had bought a strawberry cake, not a peanut one.

I had been so careful, checking everything he ate to make sure there was not even a trace of peanuts. How did he still have an allergy reaction?

My fingers pinched each other as confusion clouded my thoughts.

Then, my phone buzzed—a voice message from my mother-in-law.

"Joyce, we're out of the allergy meds at home.

"About Brian's peanut allergy... be careful and don't get anything with peanuts in it."

Her voice was gentle, carrying the same caution as in my previous life.

There, in front of me, my son's playful face seemed to merge with the pale, lifeless one from that day.

A chilling thought crossed my mind.

I did not respond to my mother-in-law's message.

Turning to the saleswoman, who was sweetly entertaining my son, I forced a smile. "Could you pack that up for me? And could you add extra peanut powder on top?"

The saleswoman quickly wrapped up the cake, then dusted it with a soft layer of peanut powder. It looked irresistible.

My son beamed up at me, his wish granted. "Mom, you're the best. I love you!" he said.

I tousled his hair gently. "Listen, if you really like it, have a little more later, just don't waste any, okay?"

"Sure! I'll finish every last bite!" My son held up three fingers in a solemn promise, then planted a joyful kiss on my cheek.

He cradled the cake like it was his most prized possession, blissfully unaware that a single bite could be fatal.

Back at home, my husband and mother-in-law were in the midst of party preparations.

The birthday gathering was well-attended, mostly by friends James Clark and I both knew.

"Honey, you're back."

James wrapped his arms around me in his usual way. "Go slip into your new dress. You're the belle of the ball today, so you've got to look stunning."

I cast my eyes down and gave a small nod. "Alright."

Slipping into the only white dress in my closet felt like reliving my previous life.

No sooner had I zipped up than a ruckus erupted outside.

"Son, what's the matter?!" James's voice, thick with panic, cut through the door and into the room.

I opened the door with a steady hand.

The clock struck six o'clock on the dot—the same moment my son's tragedy unfolded in my previous life.

There he was, sprawled on the living room floor. The cake I had bought was missing a piece.

His complexion was ghostly, his hands clawing at his throat in a silent struggle for air.

An allergic reaction, no doubt about it.

James was tearing through drawers and cabinets in search of medication.

When he spotted me, his eyes brightened with hope. "Honey, our boy's having a reaction. You've got the meds, haven't you?"

"Yes, I've got them."

I nodded but stood still.

As my son's face started to turn a shade of blue, my mother-in-law's patience snapped, her voice laced with reproach. "If you've got the medicine, then for heaven's sake, bring it out!"

Even our friends were pressing me.

"Come on, can't you see how much he's suffering?"

"Joyce, where's the medicine? In your usual bag or your pocket? Think fast!"

The urgency was palpable, and everyone pitched in to search for the boy's life-saving pill.

The room was a whirlwind of activity, a mess of well-meaning chaos.

"Stop looking." My voice cut through the commotion, halting everyone in their tracks, "I have the medicine."

A pale blue pill lay in my open hand.

Relief washed over James's face. "That's it! Honey, hand it over quickly, I need to give it to our son."

James reached out, his face a picture of gratitude for his son's narrow escape.

However, I did something completely unexpected.

With a light laugh, I flicked the pill into the champagne tower. It fizzed, then sank.

Everyone froze.

James was livid. "What are you doing, Joyce?! That's our son's lifeline!"

James's hands shook as he tried to retrieve the then-dissolving pill.

Not wasting another second, he gripped my shoulders, his voice tight with urgency.

"Enough games, Joyce. You can joke any other time, but not now, not with our son's life. Get the medicine back! Now!"

All eyes bore into me expectantly.

I just shrugged. "It's gone, that was the last one we had."

"Why would you throw it away?" My mother-in-law gasped, clutching her heart in disbelief.

"It can't be." James shook his head, refusing to believe.

As our son's breaths grew fainter, I did not budge, just casually crossed my legs.

In a panic, my mother-in-law reached for her phone to dial emergency services.

However, the moment she connected, I snatched the phone and ended the call.

The screen went dark, mirroring the ashen pallor of our son's face.

"Joyce, what on earth are you thinking?!"

I offered no explanation.

James snapped out of his shock and redialed for an ambulance.

However, the precious minutes lost meant our son's breaths were then shallow and few.

My livid mother-in-law hissed through gritted teeth, "If anything happens to Brian, you'll regret it for the rest of your life, Joyce!"

"Mom, he'll pull through," James spoke up without thinking, coming to my defense.

He propped up our son, holding him in a half-sitting position to ease his breathing.

A quarter of an hour later, the doctor burst in.

We all stepped back, holding our breath, eyes wide with fear as the doctor rushed to save our boy.

However, Brian had already slipped away. His skin was a map of red welts, his little body barely twitching then—it was a bad sign.

I stood there, numb.

My lack of reaction drew sharp whispers from onlookers.

"Joyce, your son's fighting for his life, and you're just standing there?"

"Are you even his mother?"

Before I could muster a word, James was there, shielding me. "Sorry, Joyce is just in shock. She loves Brian more than anyone. Let's not do this now."

He shot me a look meant to comfort me, the same way he always had my back.

The doctor worked furiously, but time was not on our side. Brian's pupils were blown, the heart monitor flat.

The doctor let out a heavy sigh, shaking his head defeatedly. "I'm sorry, we've done all we can."

My mother-in-law's cry tore through the room as she begged, "There's got to be something more, doctor. Please, save our Brian!

"Brian, come back to us! Just open your eyes, look at me—I can't face this world without you."

My mother-in-law's tears flowed like rivers of sorrow, and James was shell-shocked by the news, frozen in place.

He shook his head, trying to shake off the disbelief. "No... this can't be happening. Brian's just a toddler, only three. It's just an allergy. He's got to pull through, right?"

James's eyes, brimming with tears, searched the faces around him for a glimmer of hope.

Someone looked away, the scene too painful to witness.

The doctor finished packing up the emergency gear and offered a gentle word. "Sir, try to find some peace."

Who could have imagined a birthday celebration turning into a wake?

My mother-in-law's heart raced as she realized it was because I had discarded the medicine.

She held her grandson's lifeless body close, her face contorted with rage as she screamed at me, "Joyce! This is on you, you're to blame for Brian's death!

"Why would you toss out his meds? Why?"

Her glare was piercing.

The crowd's eyes on me were filled with judgment.

"Yeah, that was the medicine that could've saved him."

"If Joyce had just gotten the medicine out sooner, Brian might still be here."

"The worst part is she threw it away. What kind of mother isn't frantic when her child's in danger? This isn't a game, it feels like cold-blooded murder!"

Accusations swirled around me.

James stepped in front of me again. "Enough. Joyce... Joyce had her reasons.

"The medicine was past its prime."

James tried to defend me, his hand in mine, forcing a smile that was more pained-looking than any tears.

"Honey, I know how much you adored Brian, and you're hurting too. This isn't on you."

However, the doctor's presence cast doubt on James's defense.

The doctor, with a furrowed brow, corrected him. "'Expired' just means it's less potent, not that it's unusable. If there's any doubt, I can get it tested..."

"Doctor!"

James's voice suddenly spiked, but he quickly regained his composure to explain, "My wife doesn't know much about meds, so it's totally normal for her to be confused.

"Plus, the meds got mixed with booze. Who in their right mind would give that to a toddler? What if it made things even worse?

"Joyce didn't have any other choice."

James's defense was strong.

As I watched the skeptical looks fade away, I blurted, "The meds weren't expired. I threw them out on purpose."