“No no no!”

Matthew shook his head hard, his small finger jabbing toward me, eyes full of disgust：

“She yells at me! And she won't let me have ice cream! Aunt Sara never yells at me, and she buys me lots and lots of toys! I want Aunt Sara to be my mommy!”

I said nothing. I turned and walked into Matthew's bedroom.

Ten minutes later, I came back out dragging a small Ultraman suitcase and set it down at Oliver's feet.

“His change of clothes and allergy medication are inside. He needs to hold the blue teddy bear when he sleeps or he'll cry. Absolutely no mangoes or seafood. He'll break out in a rash.”

Oliver's face went white. He seized my wrist.

“Vivian, what the hell is this? You're using our son to get back at me?”

“I'm not getting back at anyone.”

I pulled free of his grip, calm and steady. A ring of red already circled my wrist.

“Since he likes Sara better, let him go with you. Perfect. Your happy little family of three, all together.”

Oliver was shaking with rage：

“What did you just say? He's your own flesh and blood! How can those words even come out of your mouth?”

“Vivian, you really are getting more cold-blooded by the day!”

Matthew joined in, yelling：

“Yeah! Bad mommy is cold-blooded! I don't want you anymore! I'm going with Daddy and Aunt Sara!”

I tugged at the corner of my mouth：

“Sure. Then go.”

Oliver stared at me, eyes heavy with disappointment.

He thought I'd break down crying and beg him to stay, the way I always used to. He thought I was just throwing a tantrum.

But he didn't know I'd already died once.

When the heart dies, nothing matters anymore.

“Fine! You said it, not me! Don't come crying to me later!”

He scooped Matthew up, shot me one last vicious glare, and slammed the door on his way out.

The house went quiet all at once.

I walked to the window and watched Oliver's car pull out of the complex.

The headlights traced a cold arc through the darkness.

Then I took out my phone and sent my lawyer a message：

“Get the divorce agreement ready. I don't want a cent of the assets. Full custody to Oliver. As fast as possible.”

Three days later was my third wedding anniversary with Oliver.

In my last life, I'd started preparing a month in advance.

I baked his favorite cake by hand and bought the limited-edition watch he'd been talking about for ages.

I even wore the white dress he said I looked prettiest in.

He didn't come home until four in the morning, reeking of Sara's perfume, and told me：

“Sorry. Sara has a fever. I need to stay at the hospital with her.”

I asked him through tears：

“In your heart, who matters more? Me or her?”

He shoved me aside, irritated：

“Vivian, can you grow up? Sara has no one. She's completely alone. I can't just abandon her. You're my wife. You should understand.”

So this time around, I didn't prepare a thing.

Seven in the morning. The lock clicked.

Oliver was back, with Matthew in tow.

The moment Matthew walked through the door, he charged into the living room and hurled a pink stuffed bunny straight into my face.

“Bad mommy! Look! Aunt Sara bought this for me! It's prettier than any toy you ever got me!”

The bunny's ear caught the corner of my eye, a sharp, stinging flare of pain.

I picked up the stuffed bunny and tossed it into the trash can beside me.

Oliver's brow creased immediately：

“What are you doing? Sara picked that out for Matthew herself.”

I wiped the spot on my face where the toy had hit：

“Oh. I thought throwing it at me meant he didn't want it. Just helping him take out the trash.”

Oliver was too angry to speak.

He pulled a sleek jewelry box from his pocket and tossed it onto the coffee table.

“Enough. I know you're upset, so drop the passive-aggressive act. I didn't forget our anniversary.”

“It's for you. Anniversary gift. Sara helped me pick it out. She said it would look good on you.”

I opened the box. Inside was a pearl necklace.

Identical to the one he'd given Sara for her birthday in my previous life.

I smiled faintly, picked up the necklace without so much as a glance, and set it aside.

“You don't have to go through the motions for my sake. Tomorrow's Sara's birthday anyway. Save the necklace for her. It'll make a perfect gift.”

His expression darkened：

“How do you know tomorrow is Sara's birthday?”

“I don't just know it's her birthday. I also know you canceled our anniversary dinner reservation and rebooked the most expensive revolving restaurant in the city for her party.”

I looked at him, my voice as flat as if I were commenting on the weather：

“I even ordered the cake for you. Black Forest. Her favorite. Don't bother coming home tonight. I'll just get takeout.”

Oliver froze.

It probably never crossed his mind that the woman who used to cry all night when he forgot their anniversary would one day volunteer to plan another woman's birthday for him.

“Vivian, you……”

I cut him off：

“Don't be touched.”

“I just don't want to fight with you over this anymore. I'm tired.”

I turned and walked into the kitchen.

Behind me, Matthew's voice rang out：

“Daddy, Aunt Sara said she's taking me to Disneyland tomorrow! I finally don't have to stay with bad mommy! Yay, Aunt Sara!”

Oliver quickly clamped a hand over Matthew's mouth：

“Don't say things like that.”

I leaned against the kitchen door and closed my eyes.

It's fine. It's really fine.

A few more days, and I could leave this hell for good.

That afternoon, I spoke with my lawyer about the divorce agreement.

On my way back, I passed Matthew's preschool. I hesitated, then went in.

I wanted to find his teacher and go over the details of his care going forward.

When I reached the classroom door, I saw Sara crouched down, tying Matthew's shoelaces.

Matthew had his arms wrapped around her neck. He kissed her cheek, his little voice soft and sweet：

“Aunt Sara, will you be my mommy? I don't like that bad mommy.”

Sara spotted me and immediately pushed Matthew away：

“Matthew, don't say silly things.”

She stood, walked over to me, and arranged her face into something apologetic.

“Vivian, I'm so sorry. I just happened to be passing by and popped in to check on Matthew.”

“I never taught him to say any of that. Please don't read into it.”

“It's fine.”

I walked over to Matthew and reached for his hand：

“Matthew, Mommy wants to talk to you about something.”

Matthew shoved me so hard I nearly lost my balance：

“No! You're not my mommy! Aunt Sara is my mommy! Go away!”

There was no time to grieve over his words.

My sleeve had ridden up, exposing the jade bracelet on my wrist.

It was the only thing my mother left me before she died. I'd worn it for over a decade, never once taken it off.

But Matthew's eyes lit up, and he grabbed for it：

“That bracelet's so pretty! I'm gonna give it to Aunt Sara!”

I clutched my wrist：

“No! You can't have this!”

“I want it, I want it!”

Matthew screamed and sank his teeth into my hand.

Blood welled up instantly.

Sara hurried over and pulled him away：

“Matthew, don't bite Mommy!”

“She's not my mommy!”

Matthew thrashed wildly, grabbed the ceramic cup from the table, and hurled it straight at me.

I raised my hand to block it on instinct.

The cup smashed against my wrist and shattered.

The jade bracelet fell with the broken shards, hitting the floor and splitting in two.

I stood frozen, staring at the wreckage scattered across the ground, every drop of blood in my body turning to ice.

Sara rushed over with a tissue to wipe my hand：

“Vivian, I'm so sorry, this is all my fault. Please don't be upset. Matthew's still little, he doesn't know any better.”

I lifted my head and looked at her, my gaze cold：

“He doesn't know any better. What's your excuse?”

“Sara, you stole my husband. You stole my son. And now you're taking the only thing my mother left me. Are you really that desperate for a man and a child?”

Her eyes reddened instantly, tears spilling down her cheeks like beads from a broken string：

“I didn't……”

“Vivian, I really didn't mean for any of this……”

Oliver walked in. The second he saw Sara crying, he strode over and pulled her behind him.

He pointed at me, voice a snarl：

“Vivian, what the hell is wrong with you now? Sara came here out of kindness to see Matthew, and you're screaming at her?”

I pointed at the broken bracelet on the floor. My voice shook no matter how hard I tried to steady it：

“So what if I yelled at her?”

“Oliver, open your eyes! This is the only thing my mother ever left me! And your son just smashed it to pieces!”

Oliver frowned, his face tight with impatience.

“It's just a bracelet. It's broken, so what? I'll buy you a better one tomorrow. Is that really worth making such a scene and reducing Sara to tears?”

I laughed. Laughed until tears ran down my face：

“In your eyes, my mother's keepsake is just a bracelet?”

“What else would it be?”

“A dead person's junk. Keeping it around is bad luck.”

He picked up Matthew, wrapped his arm around Sara's waist, and walked out without looking back.

At the doorway, Matthew turned and stuck his tongue out at me：

“Bad mommy! Serves you right!”

The door slammed shut with a “bang.”

History was repeating itself.

Every line of this life was tracing over the last one, perfectly aligned.

I crouched on the floor and picked up the shards of the bracelet, piece by piece.

A sharp edge sliced my finger. Blood dripped onto the floor, blooming like tiny roses.

For the first time, I felt it: a helplessness against fate that reached all the way to my bones.

That night at eight, my stomach started to hurt.

At first it was just a dull, distant ache.

I figured it was my old condition flaring up, so I dug through the medicine cabinet, found the antacids, and swallowed two with cold water.

But the pain didn't ease. It got worse.

Cold sweat rolled down my forehead, soaking through my pajamas in minutes.

I curled up on the couch, shaking from the pain.

I knew. Acute gastric perforation, same as before.

Exactly like my last life.

I dragged myself off the couch and tried to reach my phone to call an ambulance.

Two steps in, my legs buckled and I hit the floor hard.

The pain peaked in a single white-hot instant.

I clenched my teeth, pressed my palms flat against the floor, and inched toward the coffee table.

Every movement felt like something inside me was being torn loose.

Finally, my fingers found the phone.

I thought of my last life, left alone in this house by Oliver to die.

I took a deep breath and dialed 911.

I gave them the address. Then my grip gave out. The phone slipped from my hand and landed silently on the carpet.

The minutes crawled.

I lay on the floor, consciousness fraying at the edges.

Some stretch of time later, the wail of an ambulance siren cut through the silence outside the door.

I bit down hard and used the very last of my strength to pull myself up from the floor.