Perfect Pint

My five-year-old daughter loved telling lies. I had taken her out to a simple school supplies run, but she yelled on the street that I was a human trafficker. Consequently, I nearly got arrested and taken to the police station. When we went home, she cried and threw herself in my husband’s arms to complain about me before I could say anything. “Dad, Mom wouldn’t buy me stationeries. She even hit me on the street!” I offered my husband an explanation. He heard me out, but I did not expect him to angrily slap me when I was finished. “Our daughter is only five. She can’t lie. Can’t you just put up with it?!” When I drove my daughter to school, she got down on her knees in front of me while the other parents were around. “Mom, please let me go to school. I don’t want to take naked photos for those guys.” When the teacher checked my phone, it was full of my daughter’s explicit photos. A mob of angry parents pushed me into the traffic, killing me. I could not figure out why my biological daughter would behave that way, even as I lay dying. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day when I was about to buy stationery for my daughter.

After being reborn, the very first thing I do is schedule a hysterectomy. In my past life, my boyfriend's first love started a livestream channel to build her image as a brilliant OB-GYN. The moment she saw me vomiting, she deliberately claimed on livestream that I was pregnant. Right then and there, my boyfriend insisted that he had never even slept with me. I tried to explain, but she handed me medication to help sustain the pregnancy. She even told me to take care of myself and take them on time. Viewers made fun of my boyfriend, saying I had cheated on him. Furious, he broke up with me. Later, my personal information leaked, and countless men began harassing me for hookups. I couldn't take it anymore and jumped to my death. Meanwhile, his first love rode the fame wave of her brilliant OB-GYN persona, gaining followers and being idolized by her fans. But this time, I don't even have a uterus. Let's see how she plans to fake a pregnancy scandal now.

As soon as I graduated from university, I suggested to my three roommates that we should rent a place together. The place I found was near our workplace, and it was cheap as well. It was much better than the house they used to rent in the suburbs. During the first three months of renting the place together, everything seemed fine. One day, I got off work early and heard them talking in the living room. "I did some research online. The rent of the houses in this area is at least 2 grand a month. But ours is only 800 dollars a month. How about we rent the master bedroom out for 800 dollars? That way, we won't have to pay any rent." "Alright, I'm in! Why does Jessica always get to sleep in the master bedroom? Even if she covered all the bills of this house, how much would that cost anyway?" "I've had it with her arrogant attitude. Thinking of her being homeless makes me want to laugh!" I laughed inwardly. 'You want to see me homeless? But I'm the landlord!'

I'm reincarnated a week before the college entrance exam. Despite being the soon-to-be top scorer, I stab my eye with a syringe. In my past life, Marianne Quentin, my boyfriend Lance Russell's childhood friend, reported me for cheating off her during the final mock exam. The teacher compared our papers and found that my essay was identical to hers. He harshly criticized me and warned me not to repeat my mistake. However, Marianne reported me for copying her answers again during the math exam. Once again, my answers were found to be identical to hers. The teacher scolded me for being incorrigible and sent me home to reflect on my actions. I couldn't understand what had happened. Clearly, I'd never cheated, but my answers were nearly identical to Marianne's, whether in writing and language or in math. As the SAT exam loomed over me, I could only suppress my doubts as I stepped into the exam hall. I finished the writing paper and thought I was safe. However, Marianne stepped out and accused me of cheating again. I tried to defend myself, yet the answers on my paper were identical to hers. In the end, I was disqualified, kicked out of the exam hall, and banned from taking any exams in the next two years—just because I "cheated". I succumbed to despair and leaped from the rooftop. When I open my eyes again, I'm back to one week before the SAT.

After eight years together, I took a hit for my surgeon boyfriend. Milton Woodard vowed I could ask for anything. Everyone assumed I'd seize the chance to propose, locking him down for good. Instead, I looked him in the eye and said, "Let's break up." Then I walked away without a backward glance. Milton smirked, betting with his buddies that I'd come crawling back in under three days, calling me a desperate lapdog chasing his attention. He was dead wrong because I'd been reborn. In my last life, I proposed to him and won. Overwhelmed by the news, his first love threw herself off a rooftop and killed herself. Milton unleashed his grief-fueled rage on me. On our wedding night, he slashed my face and locked me in a dank, claustrophobic basement. When I got pregnant, he force-fed me supplements until the baby grew too big for me to deliver. I hemorrhaged, torn apart, and died in agony on the birthing table. Now, reborn on the day I saved his life, I was done playing his fool.

My daughter accidentally scratched my husband's young mistress's face with her nails. For that, my husband had her fingers chopped off. Covered in blood, she came home seeking help, only to be assaulted by an intruder. I called my husband, crying, but his mistress's sweet voice answered the phone. "Stop using these lowly tricks to get Jack's attention. All you're doing is making him sick!" I begged my husband to take my call, but all I got in return was a barrage of insults. "Nothing is more important than Yvonne's face! I'm busy taking her to the hospital! I don't have time for your drama!" Later, my daughter's organs were removed by the intruder. Even in death, she was still tightly holding onto the birthday gift she had prepared for her father. My husband, a top lawyer, personally defended the criminal who assaulted our daughter. He let that man walk away scot-free after what he had done. On the day he celebrated his birthday with all our relatives, he finally knew that our daughter had died. He completely lost his mind.

After transferring into an elite high school, I was bullied. However, it was not my classmates that bullied me; it was every object in the school. The private bathroom in my dorm only ran icy cold water when I showered, forcing me to trek to the public bathhouse in the dead of winter. When I begged the dorm supervisor, Mrs. Linda Mercer, to submit a repair request, she rolled her eyes and said, "The students who lived here last year never had this problem. Why is it suddenly broken when you move in?" My student ID card never worked in the library or the cafeteria. Every single time, it failed to scan, and I had to register manually. The multimedia equipment in the classroom froze whenever I touched it, dragging down the entire class schedule. I went to the teachers for help. They frowned and complained instead. "Everyone else can use it just fine. Why does it only malfunction when you do?" Even my deskmate rolled her eyes and mocked me. "You put on such a show every day. You are the only one who's so special. Are we supposed to stop studying just for you?" One strange incident after another completely isolated me at my new school. I cried and begged my parents to let me transfer again. They said, "The college entrance exam is right around the corner. Stop making trouble. Just endure it, and it will pass." I listened. I decided to grit my teeth and push through. Then, on the day of the college entrance exam, the security gate malfunctioned and started leaking electricity. Everyone else was fine. I was the only one who was electrocuted to death on the spot. Until the moment I died, I could not understand why the entire school seemed to be pushing me out. I was just a newly transferred student who had no grudges with anyone. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day I arrived to register at the new school.

My sister-in-law, Cynthia Ziegler, has my name written on her cancer diagnosis report. As such, the entire Ziegler family assumes that I'm the one with cancer. Overnight, my husband, Leonard Ziegler, sends a text message to his mistress, Irene Ludlow. "Our time will soon come! That old bat is about to die at last, so I'll finally be able to marry you!" My grandmother, Amanda Powell, cries and clings onto my hand, begging me not to seek treatment. She is not only discussing with Leonard on how best to split my insurance money after my death but also employing various methods to hasten my death. However, they are all unaware that Cynthia used my medical insurance card when she went for her physical examination. I feign sadness and nod with tears in my eyes. "I won't seek treatment, Mom. Let's not seek treatment no matter who is diagnosed with cancer."

Can you believe this? I was just some random fake-sweet girl online, then boom—the richest couple in Rivora City showed up waving fifty million, begging me to be their daughter-in-law. All because their son—the golden boy who was supposed to have it all—threw everything away simping for some broke school beauty. "If that tramp actually loved him, fine. But instead, she keeps rejecting him while milking his name for her family." "Our son's obsessed with that manipulative girl? Then we'll find someone faker. More manipulative. Fight poison with poison." Yeah... that stung a little. But a black card with fifty mil? Hard to stay offended. I signed on to "rescue" their hopeless son. Then I opened the file and laughed. That tramp? My sister. The same snake I crushed years ago.

I accidentally ruined the cake at the fake daughter's birthday party. As punishment, my parents and brother locked me in the basement. "You’ve let your jealousy ruin a perfectly good celebration. Stay here and think about what you’ve done!" they shouted. They left me in the basement and went off to the Maldives to throw another birthday party for the fake daughter. When a gas leak occurred at home, I was still locked in the basement. As soon as they remotely turned the lights on, the whole house exploded, taking my life with it. After my death, my spirit drifted over to where my family was celebrating. I saw them gathered around the fake daughter on a beach. When a luxury three-tiered cake was brought out, they watched her make a wish with a smile. The fake daughter put on a show of concern about me. "Darling, you’re too kind-hearted. People like her deserve to be locked up and taught a lesson. Let’s see if she dares to take anything from you again," they said. Hearing that, I completely gave up on my family. When they returned home and saw the destroyed house, however, my parents and brother went mad.