When she was little, she accidentally bumped her arm and told her grandmother that I had pinched her, causing her grandmother to throw a massive fit at me. When she got older, she constantly skipped class, telling her homeroom teacher that our home environment was too suffocating and that she had depression. Later, she started dating a local thug. I followed her to the rooftop where they were secretly meeting. During an argument with him, she was pushed off the building. I died on the spot trying to save her. But my daughter’s very first reaction was to pull out her phone, record my broken body, and scream for the camera: "Mom, why did you jump?!" When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to her senior year of high school, exactly when she was threatening suicide to elope with that thug. This time, I efficiently packed her bags and set them in front of her: "Go ahead, honey. Mom fully supports your freedom to love." 1 "If you don't agree to let us be together, I swear I'll slit my own throat right here and make you clean up my corpse!" The moment I opened my eyes, I saw my daughter holding a kitchen knife to her neck, screaming at me like a maniac. But I knew she had absolutely no intention of killing herself. She was just doing this to force my hand, to make me yield to her increasingly outrageous demands. In my past life, this terrified me so much that my soul practically left my body. I was a hair's breadth away from dropping to my knees and begging her not to do something stupid. In the end, with tears in my eyes, I agreed to their relationship. To keep her from running away, I even promised to give her a $3,000 monthly allowance. My husband and I only made about $5,000 a month combined. To scrape together that $3,000, I practically lived at the office. I worked overtime every single night until I was so exhausted my vision blurred. And she took our blood, sweat, and tears to fund that thug's lifestyle, bragging smugly to him: "That old bitch definitely has money hoarded away. I just have to keep pushing her, and she'll spit it all out." Thinking of all this, I clenched my fists tightly, turned around, and walked out of the room. "You old bitch! Even if you call Dad, it won't change anything!" Thinking she had won again, my daughter slammed the knife down on the table with a loud CLANG. After smashing a few teacups to vent her remaining anger, she followed me into my bedroom. "Even if you drop to your knees and beg me, I won't—" The rest of her sentence died in her throat as she stepped fully into the room. The next second, her voice shot up an entire octave: "What the hell are you doing?" Meeting her shocked stare, I zipped up her suitcase with practiced efficiency and rolled it over to her. "Go ahead, honey. Mom fully supports your freedom to love." Of course you two should be together. After all, your "good days" won't truly begin until after you get pregnant. 2 My daughter never expected me to react this way. Her red-rimmed eyes widened in sheer disbelief. Seeing that she wasn't moving, I gave the suitcase another push. "If you don't leave now, it's going to get dark. I'll mail the rest of your stuff to you later." "You old..." She paused, her meager brain struggling to process the situation. When it finally clicked, she let out a cold scoff. "Hah. To stop me from killing myself, you're actually willing to agree to me and Tyler?" She waved her hand dismissively, putting on a show of profound generosity. "Forget it. I understand you're getting old and can't bear to be without me. I don't have to leave. However, from now on, you are not allowed to interfere in my life. And you need to deposit $3,000 into my account every month. How I spend it is none of your business." In that moment, from the bottom of my heart, I felt truly pathetic. From the moment she was born, my husband and I had pampered her. We held her in our mouths, afraid she'd melt; we held her in our hands, afraid she'd break. But to our utter shock, she grew up to be a compulsive liar, constantly making up excuses to demand money. Every time I dropped her off at my mom's house, my mom would notice cash missing from her wallet afterward. Back then, my husband advocated for a severe punishment so she would learn her lesson. But I believed it was because we hadn't given her enough of a sense of security. I believed girls should be raised with abundance so they wouldn't be easily tempted. Over the years, I did everything in my power to give her the best. Whatever other kids had, I made sure she had too. And in the end? I gave my life for her, and her very first reaction was to film a video to create false evidence against me, and then use the tragedy to livestream and make money. "You're wrong." I sighed, shook my head, and patted her shoulder. "Mom is getting old. I can't control you anymore, and honestly, I don't want to. Starting today, whether you go to school or not is up to you. Who you date is up to you. You can leave this house whenever you want." "But $3,000 is simply too much. Mom can't afford it. You should go find someone else to be your mother." "I knew you were just saying this to spite me! Just you wait, I'm not coming home tonight!" My daughter screamed, slammed the door, and stormed out. She still thought I was just bluffing. 3 Not long after she left, I headed out too. Having been trapped in the role of a mother for too long, I had spent years eating my daughter's leftovers or the foods she disliked. Tonight, for the first time in forever, I treated myself to a premium steak and a glass of red wine. High-quality beef really is fantastic; no wonder she always demanded to eat it. The service at upscale restaurants is exactly as good as they say. Being taken care of feels completely different than taking care of someone else. Fully satisfied, I even went to see a movie, buying myself popcorn and ice cream. I had almost forgotten—years ago, I was a young girl too. I was also a cherished daughter held in my parents' palms. When I returned home, I happened to see my daughter standing downstairs, talking to a group of neighbors. From a distance, I could only catch fragments: "My dad's out of town on a business trip, and my mom is home alone, so naturally..." "If she doesn't care about me, fine. I've been treated like this my whole life anyway. If I starve to death, whatever." "Now she's gone out again, who knows with who..." The neighbors were fanning themselves and whispering, shaking their heads judgmentally. It suddenly dawned on me why our neighbors had been giving me such dirty looks over the years. It was probably because my daughter never tired of slandering me behind my back. I had consulted a child psychologist before, learning that some children use lying and performative behavior in early childhood to gain adult attention. But I never expected that my daughter's compulsive lying and unbridled malice would only escalate as she grew older. She spotted me, let out a loud scoff, and walked away without looking back. I immediately spoke up to clarify: "My daughter just loves to make things up. Everything she says is a lie. I just went out to have dinner by myself." But no one responded. I turned to ask the neighbors, trying to smooth things over: "Ladies, out enjoying the cool air? Have you all eaten?" But they just gave me a few dismissive hums in response. I knew Rome wasn't built in a day. The damage was done, and trying to explain myself now was useless. I could only let the truth slowly reveal itself over time. I didn't say anything else and went upstairs. When I walked into the apartment, I found it completely trashed. Anything that could be smashed was shattered. The drawers were all pulled open and ransacked. It looked like the place had been robbed. My daughter's messy, hateful handwriting was sprawled across my bedsheets in black marker: [You old bitch, so you won't give me money, right? I'm staying with my boyfriend tonight! You're going to regret this!] The life she was willingly destroying was hers, not mine. What did I have to regret? The louder she barked now, the harder reality was going to slap her in the face later. I let out a cold laugh, stripped the ruined sheets, put on fresh ones, and went to sleep. 4 The next day, as soon as I got home, I saw my daughter sitting in the living room with my former best friend, Evelyn. Evelyn was my husband's junior in college. She used to have a massive crush on him, but after she was rejected, she pivoted and became my "best friend." She had been in one serious relationship before, but the guy cheated on her and beat her. She had remained single ever since. Ever since my daughter was born, Evelyn was constantly at our house, buying her endless snacks, dolls, and limited-edition gaming consoles. When my daughter was young, if I ever disciplined her, she would immediately call Evelyn. Evelyn would come running over instantly to defend her. As my daughter got older and started talking back to me, she would always say: "You're so annoying, always nagging me non-stop. Being your daughter is the worst." "I don't know how Dad could be so blind to choose you. You're old and mean. If only Aunt Evelyn were my mom. She's beautiful, generous, and she's not cheap like you." Those words hurt me deeply, but she didn't care. She genuinely wanted Evelyn to be her mother. Right now, my daughter was leaning tearfully into Evelyn's embrace, while Evelyn held her hand, comforting her non-stop. From my angle, they looked much more like a mother and daughter than I ever did with her. Hearing me come in, my daughter didn't even lift her head, loudly exaggerating her accusations: "My mom literally locked me out yesterday. I had nowhere to go all night. My boyfriend was the only one who took me in." "She refuses to give me food and says she's cutting off my allowance forever. If she's so poor, she never should have had a kid!" "I'm just bravely pursuing true love, what did I do wrong?!" Evelyn hugged her tighter by the shoulders: "You did nothing wrong. Your mother is too cruel. It's the 21st century! Children should have the freedom to love whoever they want. She's overstepping her bounds." "Wuwuwu, Aunt Evelyn is the best. You treat me way better than my own biological mother." Evelyn even suggested that on my daughter's 18th birthday, she would formally adopt her as her goddaughter. My daughter agreed with immense joy. Listening to all of this, I just wanted to laugh. Besides the parents who gave you life and raised you, does anyone in this world truly treat a stranger well for no reason? I ignored the commentary and walked in with a smile: "Honey, Mom knows that no matter what I say, you won't believe me. So, I decided to prove it with actions." I paused, then spoke slowly: "When Mom went out yesterday, it was entirely for you. I already spoke with Tyler's parents and arranged your engagement. I'm not asking for a single cent in a dowry. As soon as you two hit the legal age, you can get married." "Your 18th birthday is coming up. Mom is going to throw a massive coming-of-age party for you. We'll invite Tyler, and let everyone witness your happiness!" My daughter's eyes widened, her face a picture of sheer shock and absolute delight. She was so excited she couldn't speak. But what I didn't expect was that Evelyn's wrist would suddenly jerk, her face turning an incredibly ugly shade of pale. 5 Evelyn knew my daughter's temperament well, and she knew me well enough to realize that I was being completely serious. Meeting my scrutinizing gaze, she opened her mouth to say something, but ultimately couldn't force out a single word. "Mom, this is the right thing to do. Now this is the Mom I know. I had no idea what was wrong with you before." My daughter raised an eyebrow, then pointed at Evelyn and said: "I want to officially acknowledge Aunt Evelyn as my godmother. We should hold the ceremony during my party too." My daughter always spoke to me in that commanding, entitled tone, expecting everything to go exactly her way. But she didn't know that there is a phrase in this world: death by flattery. Her belief that she was about to have a picture-perfect 18th birthday would be the beginning of her utter ruin. I smiled and agreed to everything. In a great mood, my daughter happily asked: "What are you going to do about my wedding gifts, then?" I patted her shoulder. "Don't worry, I promise you'll be satisfied." According to the timeline of my past life, by this point, my daughter had already slept with Tyler. Not long from now, on her 18th birthday, she would be eating dinner and suddenly start dry heaving. We'd go to the hospital, and she'd find out she was pregnant. I had felt like the sky was falling back then, begging her to get an abortion and break up with Tyler. But she said: "This is the crystallization of my love with Tyler. I am absolutely keeping it." Because of this, she dropped out of high school, completely cut ties with my husband and me, and happily moved into Tyler's house. In my past life, because she was pregnant, Tyler only reluctantly agreed to take responsibility under intense pressure from his parents. Wasn't that baby the best possible wedding gift for my daughter? 6 That afternoon, coming down from my office building, I unexpectedly ran into my husband, who had been out of town on a business trip. He was still rolling his suitcase, clearly having just rushed back. "Why are you here?" I walked up to him. He didn't look happy. He handed me a warm bag of roasted chestnuts and spoke with a dark expression: "Fiona, why did you agree to let her get engaged to Tyler? Weren't you always against it? Don't you know what kind of person Tyler is?" I didn't answer his question. Instead, I asked: "How did you find out about this?" My daughter definitely wouldn't have told him, afraid he would object. If my husband knew, someone must have specifically sought him out to tell him. Right on cue, as soon as I spoke, Evelyn stepped out from the side. She sighed dramatically. "Fiona, I'm not trying to lecture you, but what kind of biological mother pushes her own child into a fire pit?" "It's fine if kids just want to date and have fun, but for marriage, how could you let her settle for someone like that?" "Mark, you need to talk to her. What will people think when they find out? Isn't she ruining the child's entire life?!" Evelyn reached out to grab my husband's arm, but he took a quick step back to avoid her. He came over, took my purse for me, and spoke with his back to Evelyn: "This is our family's private business. Thank you for telling me, but my wife and I will discuss the rest when we get home." Evelyn, who had been passionately lecturing me, was completely caught off guard by my husband throwing cold water on her. Her outstretched hand hung stiffly in the air, and her eyes slowly grew dark. My husband had already put his arm around my shoulder, just like he used to, and said softly to me: "I know our daughter has been driving you crazy, and you made a bad decision in a moment of anger. I've been working really hard lately, and my boss is about to give me a promotion and a raise. I know you're a loving mother. From now on, you don't have to worry about her allowance anymore." Using the same coaxing tone he used when we were first dating, he said: "Be good. Let's go home to talk. If anyone bullied you, tell me, and I'll help you teach them a lesson!" All the grievances I had suffered recently surged into my heart because of his words. For a second, my eyes stung, and I wanted nothing more than to lean on his shoulder and cry. He only knew our daughter was rebellious and unruly; he had no idea I had been genuinely killed by her in a past life. If I told him the truth now, he probably wouldn't believe me, but I would definitely find an opportunity to make him see the reality. Seeing my husband leading me away, Evelyn panicked and tried to step in front of us again. I couldn't help but look at her sarcastically: "Evelyn, you're always so invested in my daughter's affairs. If people didn't know better, they'd think you were her biological mother. Since that's the case, why don't you go ahead and arrange her wedding gifts too." I don't know which of my words triggered her, but Evelyn's eyes suddenly darted around in panic. She muttered, "What are you talking about? I watched Mia grow up; of course my heart aches for her." I didn't even bother replying, just let my husband lead me away. ... When we got back that day, I only said one sentence to my husband: "You travel a lot, so you don't know what I've had to live through at home. If you dare try to convince me otherwise or stop me, then our marriage is over." My husband was terrified. Seeing how absolutely resolute I was, he finally just sighed: "I married you. You are the most important person in my life. As for the kid, since she's willing, then let her do whatever she wants."
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