Perfect Buddy

Every day, my son and husband finish all the house chores before I even get home. But only because they're bringing my husband's first love, Sally Sullivan, back for Thanksgiving, I pour boiling water on my son's face. I also kick both my son and husband out when it's 104°F outside. Desperate to save our son, my husband sprawls across the front porch, begging me to open the door. "Wanda, open the door! We need to save our son! I only invited Sally over because she saved you once back then. I didn't mean anything else by it!" "Mom, it hurts!" my son cries. "Mom, can't you kiss me? Mom…" Meanwhile, I'm slouching on the couch, snacking away as I watch TV. In the end, my husband can't take it anymore and brings me to the Bad Mom Court for trial. The moment my memories are extracted, the entire court bursts into tears.

On the very first day Jason and I made our relationship official, he insisted on handing over his salary for me to manage. He said marriage was only a matter of time and that he trusted his future wife to keep the money safe. On the day of our engagement, Jason demanded that I hand over the $960,000 in salary I had “kept” for him over the past four years. “Each month, I gave you $20,000. In four years, that’s $960,000. After expenses, there should be at least $800,000 left, right? I can’t bear to make my parents empty their savings for my marriage. We will use my savings for the wedding, $600,000 as the down payment for the new apartment, and the remaining $200,000 will be my wedding gift to you.” I froze. “But there isn’t a single dollar left!” Jason exploded. “You wasteful woman! You spent all the money?!” His mother also erupted. “So much money, and you squandered it all! What shameful acts have you been up to?! This marriage is off!” Jason demanded to see the accounts. I immediately pulled out the records in front of everyone. Seeing this, Jason’s mother panicked.

In my past life, my sister, Kyra Wood, and I got married at the same time. My husband, Callum Gray, was a navy captain, while hers was a farm director. Both of our husbands shared the same childhood friend—Eliana Sullivan. Kyra and I had the same blood type as Eliana. After she got into an accident, we both donated blood to her. When she woke up, she unexpectedly started being able to hear the thoughts of Kyra and me. Callum and I got into an argument, and I wanted him to apologize. However, Eliana told him that I'd never forgive him, even if I died. On Kyra's wedding anniversary, she decided to ask her husband, Anthony Stone, for a bicycle. However, Eliana told Anthony that Kyra wanted a sports car. Callum thought my personality was too fiery and decided to divorce me. Anthony thought Kyra was too much of a spendthrift and divorced her as well. My sister and I were abandoned and lived in loneliness for the rest of our lives—until we died. When I open my eyes again, I realize that Kyra and I have been reborn. This time, Callum and Anthony can hear our thoughts too.

My childhood friend called, saying he was trapped in a fire. He wanted to hear my voice one last time, and I rushed to the scene as fast as I could. But in that small, blazing spot, there was only a cat. Stumbling, I got the cat out, but my arms got burned. A crowd gathered, pointing at me and laughing hysterically. "She actually went for it?" "What a simp, risking her life like that!" Safe and sound, Colin Porter stepped out of the crowd with a grin. He picked up the cat from my arms and handed it to his crush. "See? I told you the cat would be fine. When have I ever lied to you?" Turning back to me, he said, "The cat got spooked and ran into the fire. We didn't know what to do, so we called you. Thank you for your help." The people around us snickered, like they were watching a trained dog. Later, on my wedding day, my husband carried me to the car. Colin, dragging his burned, bloody legs, crawled on the ground. He begged, "I'm hurt, Selena! Come help me!"

My sister's best friend borrowed 20 thousand from me, saying it was for her mother's medical bills. As a cop, I lent it to her. I figured if I could help, I should. When it was time to pay me back, she didn't return a cent. Instead, she showed up at my precinct holding a baby and accused me of indecent assaults. After a paternity test, the baby turned out to be mine. She went on livestreams, crying about how I broke the law despite being a police officer. She used the scandal to make herself famous. The force treated me like a disgrace and fired me. I tried to explain, but no one believed me. I went from a model officer to a criminal overnight. My parents were cyberbullied; with nowhere left to turn, they both drowned themselves. My wife was also beaten in the street. She suffered a miscarriage from the attack and died from massive blood loss. As for my sister, guilt drove her insane; she was hospitalized before vanishing from the public eye. After my family fell apart, I hanged myself one night. Then I opened my eyes again. I'd been reborn. Facing my sister's evil friend, I vowed to fight back.

At the concert, my husband James Felton and his assistant ended up on the kiss cam. They made for a beautiful couple, and the clip immediately went viral. In the video, I saw my son cheering in between them. The next thing I did was share the video on my Instagram feed with the caption, [How sweet.] James immediately gave me a video call, labeling me a jealous woman. “We were only acting to fool her ex! Stop making a fuss out of everything!” Our friends in the know were all laughing behind my back, placing bets on when I would apologize. This time, however, I was not going to play to their tune.

My mother-in-law gets into an accident and is taken to the emergency room. I call my attorney husband, but he only answers after over 20 missed calls. "What are you on about this time? Gigi has a bit of a problem, and I'm helping her. Stop being unreasonable." I suppress my grievance and say, "Mom's gotten into an accident. Transfer 100 thousand dollars to me." However, he believes Gigi Norris' lies and snarls, "What does your mother getting into an accident have to do with me? Don't even think of getting money from me to provide for your family. Now, leave me alone. I'm busy!" He hangs up, and my mother-in-law dies. Three days later, I see my husband in court. Gigi has been taken to court for driving under the influence, and he's there to defend her. He speaks eloquently and manages to get her off based on a lack of evidence. I lose hope in him and ask him for a divorce once the court is out of session. That's when he panics. "Think about how well my mother treats you! You'll break her heart by divorcing me!" I sneer. I throw the hospital bill and death certificate in his face. The idiot doesn't even know he no longer has a mother!

There's an earthquake. My husband, the captain of the rescue team, abandons me to save Wendy Smith, his true love. I don't stop him. I let him go. Why? Because when he was faced with the same choice in my past life, he saved me because I was eight months pregnant. Meanwhile, Wendy remained trapped under the rubble. She ultimately died due to a lack of oxygen after the delayed rescue. Later, on the day I went into labor, my husband brought me to Wendy's grave. He watched me coldly as I collapsed on the ground from the searing pain. He ignored my pleas. "Does it hurt, Yelena? Wendy's pain was a thousand times worse when she was trapped under the rubble!" I stared at him in disbelief as he descended into insanity. "You were safe that night—you were in the safe triangle zone! Wendy would never have missed the best time for rescue if not for you using your pregnancy to threaten me! I want you to experience all the pain she went through!" He forced me down on my knees and bumped my head on the ground before Wendy's grave. He ignored the blood that flowed down my legs. Ultimately, I died after major blood loss from a difficult labor. When I open my eyes again, I'm back to the day the earthquake happened. This time, neither I nor my child will wait for him.

On my wedding day, my best friend, Beatrice Hopper, buys a lottery ticket from a convenience store and gives it to me as a wedding gift. I initially believe that she's joking, but when I see the unmistakable disdain in her eyes, I know something is off. "They say it's the thought that counts. This gift is precisely how I show that I care. Besides, I'm pregnant and need money for everything right now. I don't want you to feel bad about taking my money," she says. Honestly, I'm disappointed. But since it's my wedding, I can only stand there and watch as my best friend drags her entire family to the reception for free food and drinks. As expected, the wedding ends on a sour note. The two of us part ways unhappily. What I don't see coming, though, is winning 50 million dollars in the lottery that night. Elated, I tell my husband the news, and we head to the lottery office first thing in the morning to claim the prize. The news quickly spreads among our friends and family. But by the afternoon, Beatrice pounds on my door, demanding I return the lottery ticket. "I should've been the winner!" she screamed. "I was the one who bought it, so why should you take away my prize?" I keep backing away from her, panic flooding my entire body, so much so that I don't even notice she's holding a knife. The last thing I expect is for her to swing it at me in the middle of our struggle. By the time I realize what's happening, the blade is already buried in my husband's chest. I try to call the police, but Beatrice yanks me back. We grapple, stumble, and crash through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Eventually, we fall to our deaths in the courtyard below. The universe must've had mercy on me because when I open my eyes again, I'm back at the moment she hands me that lottery ticket. Here comes my second chance.

I gave birth prematurely, just twenty days before the due date. Two hours after I entered the surgery room, I had a stillborn baby. I did not cry at all. I did not even spare a glance at the dead baby. I endured the pain from childbirth and calmly walked into the hospital nursery. After the door was tightly shut, I turned down the temperature of the air-conditioning. The temperature inside the nursery would be too cold for newborns to bear after an hour. The doctors and parents were begging me on their knees to let their babies live. They screamed and cried. They said I was a mother and hoped that I would understand. Instead, I laughed and said, “Yes, I was a mother. But my baby died!” The gynecologist knelt on the floor and begged, “We may be at fault for not being able to save your baby, but these babies are innocent! “Please don’t be reckless just because you lost your baby! You’re so young. You’ll have more babies in the future.” I gritted my teeth and roared, “But my baby isn’t dead! “She’s still alive. I’ll give you one hour. Bring her back to me!” But I was unsure if she would still be alive after an hour.