On my deathbed, I gathered the last of my strength to lift a glass of water, my hand trembling violently. But my daughter slapped it away, sending water splashing across the sheets. “What’s the point of drinking? You’ll just live a few more days. Aren’t you tired of this?” “If you’re going to die, just get it over with. I’m waiting to collect the sympathy cash!” Tears streamed down my weathered face. “Why?” I finally choked out. “Why are you doing this to me?” She rolled her eyes, slowly pacing over to my bed. She leaned in close, her voice a cruel whisper. “Because you were poor. Because you were pathetic.” “I’ll tell you the truth. I’ve hated you since the moment I was born.” “If you didn’t have any money, why the hell did you have a kid? Couldn’t you just use a condom? No, you just had to have me!” “If it weren’t for you two, I could have been born into a good family, lived a life of luxury. But no, I had to be born to a pair of broke losers!” “So please,” she hissed, “if there’s a next life, stay the hell away from me. Don’t ruin my chances of being born rich.” So that was it. A single, bitter tear traced a path from the corner of my eye. I prayed to whatever was listening to grant her wish, and then, I closed my eyes for the last time. When I opened them again, I was reborn. 1 “Congratulations, ma’am. You’re pregnant!” The dizzying sensation of rebirth faded, and the first thing I heard was the doctor’s verdict. I froze, my eyes glued to the test results in my hand. Already pregnant? How could this be? Why was I reborn at this exact moment? The thought of bringing that little monster, that debt collector, into the world again made my legs tremble. In my last life, my daughter hated school as a child and hated work as an adult. She spent her days glued to her phone, constantly yelling, “You brought me into this world, so you have to take care of me! It’s not like I asked to be born. You two had your fun, and now you expect me to support you? Not a chance!” We tried to explain that we didn’t need her to care for us in our old age; we just hoped she could find a job, any job, to support herself. She’d just roll her eyes and snatch our wallets. “Why should I work? I have you, don't I? You owe me. You have to support me for my entire life!” Honestly, we weren’t “poor.” We were a typical working-class family. My husband and I had scrimped and saved for years, buying a small apartment in the city and a ten-thousand-dollar car for commuting. We were doing okay, by normal standards. But “okay” was nowhere near enough to satisfy our daughter’s insatiable greed for luxury. After she had burned through our life savings, she used our IDs to take out one loan after another. My husband and I spent our final years hounded by debt collectors. It was a miserable existence. The memory of those days sent a shiver down my spine. Snapping back to the present, I grabbed the doctor’s sleeve. “Can I terminate it, doctor?” I pleaded. “Please, help me. I’m only six weeks along, it should be possible!” The doctor gave me a strange look. “Why would you want to do that? Weren’t you just considering IVF? Getting pregnant naturally is a good thing. Oh, I see. Are you worried about the baby’s health? Don’t be. From what we can see, everything looks perfectly normal.” I forced a bitter smile. She was right. My husband and I had always wanted children. We’d been trying for two years with no luck and had even started looking into fertility treatments. When I finally got pregnant, we were overjoyed. We treated our daughter like she was a miracle, our lucky star. Who could have known that our lucky star was a demon in disguise? I stammered, trying to come up with an excuse. Seeing my determination, the doctor sighed. “If you’re absolutely sure, you can. But I have to be clear with you. Your health isn’t ideal. If you terminate this pregnancy, there’s no guarantee you’ll be able to conceive again. You need to think this through very carefully.” My heart clenched. “Why don’t you go home and discuss it with your husband? This is his child too, and I know how much he wanted this.” I walked out of the doctor’s office in a daze and sank onto a bench in the hallway, completely lost. Suddenly, I heard a familiar voice. A voice that wasn’t spoken aloud. “Hahaha, I’m back! And this time my mom is Sophia! This is awesome! I’m finally going to be a trust fund baby!” 2 I knew that voice. It was my daughter, Stella’s, voice! “Ugh, my last life was such a nightmare, being born to those broke losers. I couldn’t even afford a new skin for my game characters.” “This time, I’m going to live it up!” “I’m telling you, even a rich woman’s womb is different. It’s so much more comfortable in here than it was in that other one!” I frantically scanned the crowded hallway, trying to find the source of the voice. My eyes landed on a woman walking toward me. The voice was coming from her belly. And the woman was the very same “Sophia” Stella had mentioned—Sophia Sterling, the wife of my husband David’s boss. In my previous life, Stella had gone to work with David once. She’d come home in a rage, slamming doors and screaming at us. “Why aren’t you rich? Why are you so pathetic! Look at Mr. Sterling, look at Sophia, look at their son! Look at the life they live, and then look at mine! You’re such failures!” At the time, we thought it was just teenage angst. Now I understood. She had seen their wealth, and it had filled her with a toxic, burning envy. And in this life, she had actually been reborn in Sophia’s womb. And somehow, I could hear her thoughts. Sophia, holding her own test results, was heading toward the VIP clinic. As she passed, her belly was turned directly toward me. I quickly looked down. “Whoa, who’s this? Is that my broke-ass mom from my last life? Oh my god, look at what she’s wearing. Now look at what my mom is wearing. It’s like night and day!” “The reek of poverty is literally choking me.” “Looks like she’s pregnant too. Does she actually think I’m in there? Hah! As if. A phoenix doesn’t nest in a chicken coop. Get lost, loser!” The obnoxious voice faded as Sophia walked past. She hadn’t noticed me. Only when she was gone did I dare to look up. My hand drifted to my own belly. If Stella was in Sophia’s womb… then who was in mine? Could it be him? That poor, tragic little boy? A slow smile spread across my face. Oh, Stella. You have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into. Being a rich kid isn’t as easy as you think. 3 My mood lifted instantly. Anyone. It could be anyone, as long as it wasn’t Stella. With that realization, a wave of relief washed over me, immediately followed by the pure, uncomplicated joy of pregnancy. I truly, deeply loved children. When I got home, I ran to my husband, David, who was cooking dinner, and threw my arms around him. I couldn’t stop the tears from flowing. In our last life, Stella forced us to work at a diner when we were in our seventies. He was a busboy, and I washed dishes in the back. He worried about me, always sneaking back to help whenever he could. One day, he slipped on the wet floor and nearly fractured his spine. That was when we found out. He had advanced stomach cancer. He’d been hiding the pain for months to save money. The doctor told him he needed to be admitted to the hospital immediately. Stella caused a massive scene, screaming that “stomach cancer is a death sentence anyway, it’s a waste of money!” She physically dragged him home and tossed a bottle of cheap painkillers at us. I tried to fight her, screaming for our bank cards, but she just shoved me. I fell to the floor, helpless. I was in my seventies, frail and thin. I was no match for her. We had never laid a hand on her when she was young, and now, in our old age, she beat us. That night, David and I held each other and wept. In the end, he died in agony. After he was gone, the diner let me go. Stella, seeing I was no longer of any use, dumped me in our old hometown and never spoke to me again. She only showed up right before I died, to hastily arrange a funeral so she could collect the cash gifts from mourners. Remembering the horrors of my past life, the tears came in a flood. I sobbed uncontrollably, letting out all the grief and pain I had held inside for so long. David panicked, trying to wipe my tears away. “What’s wrong? Being pregnant is a good thing! Why are you crying so hard? Are you just that happy?” I wiped my eyes and nodded fiercely. “Yes! I’m that happy! From now on, our family is going to be happy!” 4 Our apartment wasn’t large, but it was cozy. David worked at a tech company, a junior manager with a small team under him. He made decent money. I was an accountant at a small firm, earning less. Neither of us came from money. Our parents were uneducated, and we had fought our way out of a small town to build a life for ourselves in the city. We weren’t rich, but we weren’t destitute either. This time around, all I wanted was to live out our simple, peaceful life. Three months later, David came home with an invitation. “Honey, my boss, Mr. Sterling, is getting married again. I hear she’s twenty-three and already pregnant. He’s thrilled, and he’s invited all employees and their spouses.” I stared at the gold-embossed invitation, hesitating. Ever since my rebirth, I had avoided any contact with Stella, terrified she might somehow recognize me. But then I reminded myself that she was just a fetus. What could she possibly do? So, I went with my husband. The wedding venue was breathtaking. A carpet of rose petals, crystal chandeliers, gold-plated cutlery. Even the party favors were from a luxury brand. Sitting on the embroidered cushion, I felt completely out of place in my simple dress. No wonder Stella turned out the way she did. The world of the rich was beyond anything an ordinary person could imagine. The bride appeared. And I heard Stella’s thoughts, a cascade of awe. “Damn, that’s my dad! He’s so freaking rich! This is insane!” “Oh my god, I’m going to have the best life when I’m born! I’m going to be a freaking princess!” “Tsk, tsk. My last life was such a joke. This is the life I deserve!” I rolled my eyes. In her last life, she refused to study. Now, she couldn’t even find a sophisticated word to describe a lavish wedding. “Hey, isn’t that my pathetic loser parents from my last life? What are they doing at my parents’ wedding? Do they even belong here? Get those paupers away from me!” The bride and groom made their way to our table. I forced myself to remain calm and picked up my glass. But then, I heard it again. “Ugh, do we really have to toast them? So annoying.” “They made my last life a living hell, and now they have the nerve to expect a toast? I don’t think so. It’s time I taught you two a lesson. Time you learned what happens when you mess with the rich.” A jolt of fear went through me. What was she planning? Then, Stella’s thoughts changed, her voice shifting into the high-pitched, cooing tones of an infant. “Mommy, I don’t feel so good looking at those two. I feel like they want to hurt me! Oh… my head feels dizzy!” Sophia’s expression changed instantly. Her eyes, now full of suspicion, darted toward us. Mr. Sterling dropped his glass and stepped in front of her protectively, his gaze hostile. My heart pounded in my chest. They could hear her too!
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