Chapter 3

From that day on, she went out with Adam and Camilla constantly.

I turned a blind eye.

Until one night, when I was scrolling through her Instagram.

It was a group photo taken at the top of a mountain.

In the picture, she stood squarely in the middle, Adam on her left, the stylishly dressed stepmother on her right.

The three of them pressed close together, beaming.

As intimate as a real family of three.

The caption read: Best trip ever with Dad and my new mom. My favorite people.

The most popular girl in her class jumped into the comments.

"Wow, I've seen that bag your new mom is carrying. It's sixty thousand dollars at the boutique!"

Emily replied at once.

"And that isn't even her most expensive one."

My heart dropped, and my first instinct was the familiar dread.

Emily's condition strictly prohibited altitude, exertion, and intense physical activity.

Hiking was an absolute high-risk activity.

Staring at that warm family photo, memories from my past life surged up.

I remembered how I had once thought that childhood only happens once.

I had saved up for months, wanting to take her to get a mother-daughter portrait taken as a keepsake.

She didn't even think about it before turning me down flat.

She was ashamed that years of hard work had left me with lines on my face and rough, cracked hands.

"Mom, forget it. No matter what you wear, you'd still look cheap in the pictures. Posting them would just embarrass me."

Before every parent-teacher conference, she would lay down the rules in advance.

She told me not to approach her or speak to her, to pretend we did not know each other.

I used to tell myself it was just a teenager caring too much about appearances.

I made excuses for her again and again.

But now I finally saw the truth. She wasn't shy or reserved.

She was simply ashamed of me, and she gave all her warmth to the people who fed her vanity.

Her next follow-up appointment came around quickly.

I had booked a specialist a week ahead of time.

I reminded her over and over to keep the morning free and be ready to leave for the hospital.

She had agreed without hesitation.

But the next morning, she was gone before I woke up.

I called her over a dozen times. Every call went unanswered.

I sat quietly at home and waited the entire day, from dawn until dark.

Night had fallen by the time the hospital called.

The nurse asked whether I still planned to keep the appointment because the doctor was about to leave.

I was silent for a few seconds, then reluctantly asked the nurse to cancel.

The moment I hung up, Emily's call came through.

There was noise on her end, but her tone was as entitled as ever.

"It's pouring outside, and I forgot my umbrella. Get over here and bring me one, now."

I looked out the window.

Wind drove the rain against the glass in vicious sheets.

In my previous life, on a night just like this, she had been stranded at school without an umbrella.

Frantic, I had immediately hailed a cab to bring her one.

The roads were slick with rain, and the driver couldn't brake in time. There was a collision.

I was rushed to the hospital, diagnosed with a concussion.

The doctor insisted that I stay for observation to prevent lasting damage.

But all I could think about was Emily.

After years of crushing medical expenses, money was already tight.

The thought of the hospital bill made me insist on a quick discharge against medical advice.

That decision caused the sudden paralysis that would confine me to a bed years later. When I finally reached the school, breathless, Emily did not show a trace of concern.

When she learned that I had been in an accident, all I saw on her face was annoyance.

She blamed me for taking too long and making her wait two hours in the security office.

Back then, I had been too consumed with earning money for Emily's treatment to see anything clearly.

Looking back now, the signs had been there all along.

At the memory, I quietly clenched my fist.

"Buy one at the convenience store nearby. You don't need me to come out."

Emily turned vicious the instant she heard my answer.

"No! I want you to bring it! Get over here, now!"

The autumn rain was cold enough to cut to the bone.

I stared through the curtain of rain as lightning split the sky.

For one brief moment, my resolve wavered.

I grabbed an umbrella, pushed through the door, and plunged into the downpour.

The rain came down so hard that an ordinary umbrella was useless against the wind.

Within minutes, my pants were soaked through and clinging to my skin.

My knees took the worst of it, each blast of icy water sending a knife of pain through the joints.

When Emily first became ill, she spiked fevers night after night.

For more than two weeks, I barely left her bedside.

I changed the cool cloth on her forehead, gave her medicine, and soothed her back to sleep.

All those sleepless, freezing nights left me with chronic arthritis.

Whenever I got chilled or caught in the rain, my knees ached to the bone.

I gritted my teeth through the pain and finally reached the address she had sent me.

When I opened the door to the private karaoke room, I was drenched from head to toe, water streaming from my hair.

I looked like a drowned rat.

The sight inside stopped me cold.

Emily was sprawled comfortably across a couch.

A group of strangers crowded around her.

One look at their clothes and attitude told me they drifted from party to party with no plans and no responsibilities.

In my last life, Emily had lived under my watch.

She had resented my rules, but she had never dared to run with people like this.

She made it through college, found steady work, and stayed on a solid path.

Without my restraint in this life, her worst instincts had surfaced frighteningly fast.

When Emily saw me soaked to the bone, there was not a flicker of sympathy or guilt.

Instead, she lifted her chin proudly and showed off to her friends.

"Look. I told you she'd come."

"No matter where I am, no matter how late or how far, as long as I say the word, she'll come running and wait on me hand and foot."