1 My sister-in-law couldn't produce milk after giving birth. She sent a topless photo to my boyfriend, a doctor. "Dr. Leslie," she wrote, "I heard suckling can help stimulate milk flow." My boyfriend replied: "I'm an OB/GYN. For a sow in heat, you see a vet." Feeling insulted, my sister-in-law framed him for sexual harassment, posting an edited video online that went viral. My boyfriend's medical license was revoked, and in his despair, he took his own life. Even then, my sister-in-law continued to stoke the flames of public opinion online. "A man with no common decency like that deserved to die." I dragged her to the roof of our apartment building and we fell to our deaths together. When I opened my eyes again… I was reborn, sitting right in front of my sister-in-law, who had just given birth. … I opened my eyes again to find myself on the living room sofa. The air was a sharp mix of hospital antiseptic and the faint, sour smell of milk. My eyes darted around, disoriented, until they landed on a pale, gaunt face. It was my sister-in-law, Laura. She had just given birth and was wearing a striped blue-and-white hospital gown, leaning weakly against the headboard of a temporary bed set up in our living room. My brother, Mark, was holding a bowl of chicken soup, carefully blowing on each spoonful before lifting it to her lips. "Laura, honey, just a little more. Mom simmered this all morning for you." Laura pushed the spoon away with a look of disgust. "I can't stomach it. I have no appetite." Her voice was frail, laced with an almost imperceptible thread of irritation. "My milk just won't come in. The baby won't stop crying from hunger. It's breaking my heart." That sentence was like a lightning bolt crashing through my mind. I was dead. I had dragged Laura to the rooftop of our thirty-story apartment building and jumped, taking her with me. The whistling wind, the gut-wrenching feeling of freefall, the sound of shattering bone, and Laura's terrified screams. And then, endless, icy darkness. But now, here I was, real and solid. I looked down at my own two hands, perfectly intact. This wasn't the afterlife. I was reborn. Reborn before the tragedy began. My brother was still worried sick about Laura's inability to breastfeed. My boyfriend, Julian, was still alive and well. He hadn't yet had his life destroyed by a single topless photo and a vicious lie. He hadn't had his medical license revoked, hadn't been driven by endless despair and a campaign of cyberbullying to leap from the roof of the hospital. He hadn't yet become an eternal, unhealing scar on my soul. A tidal wave of hatred churned in my chest, threatening to burn my sanity to ash. I clenched my fists so tightly that my nails dug deep into my palms, the sharp pain the only thing keeping me grounded. Laura. I stared at her, at that pitiful, angelic face. In my last life, that was the face that had fooled everyone. She had cried to me, claiming Julian had verbally abused and harassed her after she'd simply asked for advice on milk production. She had edited their chat history, releasing only Julian's final, provoked message. "I'm an OB/GYN. For a sow in heat, you see a vet." She never mentioned that she had first sent him a photo of her bare chest. The caption read: "Dr. Leslie, I heard suckling can help stimulate milk flow." She didn't say it, so I never knew. I even had a massive fight with Julian over his "inappropriate language." Later, Laura posted the edited video online. Public opinion exploded. A helpless new mother, shamed and humiliated by an unethical male doctor. It was the perfect story for a viral outrage. Doxxing, death threats, and curses flooded every corner of Julian’s life. The hospital, buckling under the pressure, suspended him pending an investigation. He tried to explain, but no one would listen. When he produced the complete, unedited chat logs, Laura just started a livestream, sobbing that the photo was photoshopped, that Julian had made it all up in a bitter rage after she had rejected his adLeslies. She claimed she was suffering from postpartum depression and had only been seeking a doctor's help, only to be treated so cruelly. She said she didn't want to live anymore. The self-righteous internet mob grew even more furious. They protested outside the hospital with banners, threw paint on Julian's front door, and mailed him razor blades. Finally, to quell the public outcry, the hospital board revoked Julian's license to practice medicine. That day, he sent me one last text message. "Joanne, I didn't harass her. But I guess that doesn't matter anymore. I'm sorry. I can't take it." By the time I rushed to the hospital, all I saw was a cold body under a white sheet. And Laura, she was still online, guiding the narrative. She posted a long essay about how the wicked get what they deserve. The final line—"A man with no common decency like that deserved to die"—was a knife in my heart. It was in that moment that I finally snapped. I stormed back home, ignoring the protests of my parents and brother, and dragged a leisurely, TV-watching Laura up to the roof. "You love playing the victim, don't you?" I had whispered in her ear. "Let me show you what real despair feels like." Then I wrapped my arms around her and leaped. 2 I couldn’t believe it. I was reborn. Back at the very beginning of the nightmare. Laura sat across from me, her face sallow from childbirth, her expression a mixture of irritation and a faint, cruel edge. "Nothing. Not a single drop," she complained, tugging at her bulky nursing top while whining to my mother. "Mom, the baby is screaming his lungs out from hunger, and my breasts feel like rocks. What am I supposed to do?" My mother, for whom her grandson was the center of the universe, was wringing her hands. "Don't panic, honey, we'll figure something out. Just drink more of the soup." "I've already had three huge bowls! My stomach is about to burst, and it's useless!" Laura’s tone was sharp with impatience. My brother, Mark, stood by helplessly, trying to soothe her. "Honey, don't be angry. It's bad for your recovery." "How can I not be angry? Your son is starving, and I, his mother, can't even give him a drop of milk! I'm useless!" As she spoke, her eyes reddened, and she put on the face of a martyr who had suffered the world's greatest injustice. In my last life, that was the exact expression that had fooled everyone. She looked at me, a flicker of calculation in her eyes. "Joanne, isn't your boyfriend a doctor?" Here it comes. Exactly like the last time. I dug my nails into my palm, the sharp sting keeping me focused. I couldn't be a fool and fall into her trap again. "Joanne? What are you thinking about?" Laura raised her voice when I didn't respond. I looked up, meeting her probing gaze, and forced a stiff smile. "Oh, just thinking about my boyfriend." "Well, hurry up and ask him," Laura immediately pressed. "He's a top doctor, he's got to have a solution." My mother also looked at me with pleading eyes. "Yes, yes, ask Julian. He'll know what to do." My brother chimed in. "Yeah, Joanne. Your sister-in-law is about to burst into tears." See? They were all on her side. It was the same in my last life. They had all pressured me to ask Julian. Back then, I'd thought it was normal for family to help each other out. I had no idea it was a meticulously laid, poison-laced trap. I took out my phone and tapped on Julian’s profile picture. It was a photo of him in his white coat, taken on the hospital grounds. He was smiling, a warm, clean smile that reached his eyes. My own eyes instantly burned with tears. Julian. This time, I won't let you suffer a single injustice. No one will ever hurt you again. 3 In front of all of them, I sent Julian a message. 【Hey, you busy? My sister-in-law just gave birth and she's not producing any milk. Do you have any professional advice?】 I didn't just give Laura his contact info like last time. This was the first step. I had to control the channel of communication. Laura leaned over to look at my phone. When she saw my straightforward, professional question, a flash of annoyance crossed her face, but she didn't say anything. Julian replied quickly. 【Physical stimulation is one of the standard methods, like having the baby suckle more frequently. A breast pump can also help. Also, the mother's emotional state and diet are very important. Tell her not to panic.】 His reply was professional and by-the-book. I showed them the phone. My mom nodded. "Julian's right. You can't get stressed." Laura just pouted, her face a mask of disbelief. "Easy for him to say. The baby's mouth is raw from trying, and it's not working. I've used the pump, too. It hurts like hell, and it's still useless." She paused, then steered the conversation back to her original point. "Joanne, can you ask your boyfriend for me again… about that… physical stimulation. Besides the baby suckling, are there any other methods?" Her gaze became pointed, almost lewd. I knew what she was asking. In my last life, this was how she had guided me, leading me step by step into the abyss. I pretended not to understand, my face a picture of innocence. "Other physical stimulation? What do you mean, Laura?" Laura choked on her words, seemingly surprised by my "cluelessness." She had no choice but to be more explicit. "Well… I've heard that… you know, an adult… is more effective. More powerful." After saying it, she shot a meaningful glance at my brother. Mark's face flushed crimson. "I… I tried. It didn't work…" Laura immediately rolled her eyes, her face dripping with disdain. "What do you know? This requires a professional! Your sister's boyfriend is an OB/GYN. He'd definitely know best!" She practically shouted the last sentence at me. The atmosphere in the room turned bizarre. My mom coughed awkwardly and made an excuse. "I'll go check if the baby is awake." My brother used the opportunity to slip out as well. Now, it was just me and Laura. Her objective was nakedly clear. "Joanne," she said, grabbing my hand and adopting a chummy tone. "We're family. I'm just out of options here. Look at my face, I'm so pale. If I can't produce milk, what's going to happen to the baby? Your boyfriend's a doctor. Saving people is his duty, right?" She was buttering me up, laying the groundwork for moral blackmail. "Just talk to him for me. Do it as a favor for me, for your little nephew. If he helps me, I'll give you a big fat check afterward." I looked at her hypocritical face, and my stomach churned. She had said the exact same thing in my last life. I had been so blinded by the idea of "family" that I had actually gone and begged Julian. He had been silent on the phone for a long time before finally asking, his voice laced with profound disappointment, "Joanne, what kind of person do you think I am?" He was right. What kind of person had I taken him for? A tool to be used, one who would casually trample his professional ethics to satisfy the unreasonable demands of a relative? I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. "Laura, how could I possibly ask him something like that?" I said, putting on a troubled expression. "What's so hard about it? This is for the baby!" Laura’s tone was non-negotiable. "Besides, he's a doctor! This is a medical treatment! Think about your little nephew, wailing from hunger. Can you really bear to see that?" She was using the baby as a weapon again. I laughed coldly to myself. For the baby? She was just trying to satisfy her own twisted desires and, at the same time, test Julian's boundaries, to see if this accomplished, well-off young doctor could be easily manipulated by her. "But… he's my boyfriend," I continued to play dumb. "It wouldn't be right for him to do something like that for you, would it?" "What's not right about it? If you don't say anything, and I don't say anything, who's going to know?" Laura leaned in close, her voice a low whisper, like a devil tempting me to fall. "Joanne, your boyfriend is a great catch. You have to keep him on a tight leash. All men are the same. You need to let him know our family isn't to be trifled with. That way, he won't dare to bully you in the future." She was actually trying to drive a wedge between Julian and me. In my last life, I had fallen for this nonsense. I thought that letting her get some "dirt" on Julian would make our future marriage more secure. I was so unbelievably stupid. "Laura, I still don't think it's a good idea," I said, shaking my head firmly. Laura's face darkened. "Joanne, what's that supposed to mean? Are you refusing to help me?" She dropped the act, her true nature showing. "Don't forget, your brother listens to everything I say. If you side with an outsider and piss me off, don't expect your life at home to be easy." It was a blatant threat. I sneered internally but put on a frightened expression, flinching slightly. "I… I'm not." "Then do it!" Laura shoved my phone into my hand. "Tell him now! Say that I said if he's willing to help, he can name his price!" I looked at the phone screen. I knew she had lost her patience. Fine. If you're in such a hurry to die, I'll give you a push. 4 I opened my chat with Julian, my finger hovering over the screen for a long moment. Then, I sent him a different message. 【Julian, listen carefully to every word I'm about to say. Something absurd is about to happen, but no matter what, I need you to trust me and play along.】 【We're going to put on a show.】 After sending it, I immediately deleted the messages from my end. Then, I looked up. "Laura… why don't you add him on your own? I really don't know how to bring this up." I had kicked the ball back into her court. Laura's eyes lit up. This was exactly what she wanted. By taking charge herself, she could control the situation. "Fine," she agreed, feigning reluctance. I sent her Julian's contact card. She immediately sent a friend request. As I watched the "Friend request sent" notification on her screen, I knew the show was about to begin. On Julian’s end, he accepted almost instantly. I knew he had understood my message. After he accepted, Laura didn't speak right away. Instead, she carefully scrolled through her social media photos, looking for the perfect one. She chose a maternity photo, professionally shot and edited to make her look slim, her pregnant belly the main focus, a beatific smile on her face. She wanted to make a good first impression. Only then did she send her first message. 【Dr. Leslie, hello. I'm Joanne's sister-in-law, Laura.】 Julian replied quickly. 【Hello.】 Just one word. Cold and distant. Laura frowned, clearly not satisfied with this opening. She started to lay the groundwork. 【I just had a baby, but I haven't been able to produce any milk. Joanne said you're an expert in this area, and I was hoping to get some advice.】 【'Expert' is a strong word. You can call me Julian. Joanne told me a bit about the situation. Postpartum lactation insufficiency has many potential causes and requires a comprehensive diagnosis.】 Julian's reply was once again flawlessly professional. Laura was getting impatient. She felt this roundabout approach was too slow. So, she typed out a new line. 【I've heard that physical stimulation is the most effective method, is that right?】 【Yes, that is one of the clinically proven methods.】 【So… besides the baby suckling, is there a more… effective way?】 The dagger was drawn. I held my breath, watching Laura's phone screen. I knew what was coming next. She was going to send the photo. And she did. She opened her photo album and selected a picture she had taken earlier. It was a close-up of her bare chest, no face visible, but more than enough to constitute sexual harassment. Before she hit send, she shot me a look, a smug, triumphant glint in her eye. As if to say, See? This is how easy it is to handle a man. I lowered my head, hiding the icy coldness in my eyes. The photo was sent. The room was terrifyingly silent. Laura stared at her phone, waiting for Julian's reaction. She expected him to be shocked, flustered, maybe even play along and make some suggestive comment. That way, she would have her leverage. However, Julian's reply was completely unexpected.
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