My son returned from his Harvard graduation to attend my birthday party. With his right hand, he held his biological mother, and with his left, his girlfriend. He poured a glass of red wine over my head and said that the person he hated most in this life was me, and he wished I were dead. In the moment of agonizing heartbreak, his cold, disgusted eyes became my last memory. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to five years ago. 1 "Hello, Mrs. Vance, please come down to the school. Ethan, he..." Receiving the familiar phone call, I felt a bit dazed, my heart racing as if I'd had a long dream. "Mrs. Vance, Ethan happens to have a math competition this Friday, but he suddenly pulled a stunt like this. Please talk some sense into him. His future is on the line." The homeroom teacher adjusted his glasses, looking at the two people in the corner with frustration. Ethan Vance and his girlfriend. The two were caught dating by the teacher, and showing no signs of remorse, the parents were called in. I watched my son glare at me with sheer hatred. His little girlfriend hid behind him, her lip gloss and eyeshadow shimmering as she pouted with grievance. "I don't need you controlling me. You aren't even my real mom! You're just a homewrecker." The teacher's expression drastically changed, and the other teachers in the office looked up at me. Ethan didn't spare me an ounce of dignity. "Mr. Davis, I'd like to take him outside to say a few words. Sorry for the trouble." In my previous life, I forced the two to break up, compelling Ethan to participate in the competition that was crucial for his early admission to Harvard. He didn't disappoint, taking home the gold medal and securing his spot. But his girlfriend suddenly transferred schools. He hated me for tearing them apart. On my birthday, he intentionally brought that girl to me. The two looked at me with disgust and poured red wine all over me. Ethan gnashed his teeth and said: "You just can't stand to see me happy. You tore my parents apart, and now you want to tear us apart. Go to hell. I will never forgive you." Coming back to my senses, I looked at the two holding hands in front of me. "I won't..." "I won't oppose you guys, just don't embarrass me in front of the teachers. I don't want to be called to the school for this kind of thing again." Before Ethan could speak, I beat him to it. My son stared at me in disbelief. I ignored them, nodded to the homeroom teacher, and left the office. This Friday, that girl would make Ethan choose between celebrating her birthday and taking the math competition. Obviously, no matter what, he turned eighteen last month. This time, I was handing the choice back to Ethan himself. Let him choose! 2 The homeroom teacher still didn't give up and called me again. Half an hour before the exam, the two had skipped class. I drove to the amusement park and could faintly see their backs—youthful, unrestrained, and reckless. I checked my watch, waited until the exam start time had completely passed, and drove away. The first time I met Ethan, he was only two years old, a tiny little thing. His mother divorced his father, Richard Vance, because Richard was always busy with work. She quickly found a new love and didn't even take him with her. Ethan's little hand gripped my thumb, and he spoke sweetly. Though it was slurred, he said: "Mom... Mom..." I hugged him tightly. Even though he wasn't my biological child, I decided then and there that I would treat him as my treasure and be good to him for the rest of my life. He started growing up and went to school. I didn't yield an inch to Richard on the issue of his education. I strongly disagreed with his free-range parenting style. I read countless books on child psychology and cognitive development, yet I was afraid of applying them incorrectly on him. Worried that my lack of expertise would hold him back, I entrusted him to professional tutors. I rejoiced at his every progress and lost sleep over his every setback. I had a gentle and kind personality, but I forced myself to play the strict mother. I loved him dearly and couldn't bear to see him cry, but I was merciless when it came to correcting his mistakes. He once made a wish to me, saying he wanted to go to the best university in the country, to Harvard. That was his dream. I etched that firmly in my heart. Ethan's natural talent was limited; he was a bit lazy and not very self-disciplined. So, I willingly became the stepping stone beneath his feet. Even if he complained about me and resented me, I wanted to lift him up to achieve his dream. In my previous life, after discovering Ethan had a knack for math, I swallowed my pride to seek out renowned professors to tutor him. I took time off to accompany him to summer camps and traveled across the country for tests. Not to mention the hundreds of thousands of dollars spent on tutoring fees, which caused me to miss out on several career promotions. But in the end, he said he hated me. He said he didn't like math at all, and even without the competitions, he could have gotten into Harvard on his own. Now, I just wanted to see how he would get into Harvard on his own. When Richard called from overseas, nine out of ten sentences were questions about his son. "Audrey, thank you for taking such good care of him. I know it's been hard on you all these years. Deep down, Ethan treats you like his real mom. I'll make it up to you properly. I love you." I coldly hung up the phone. One said he loved me; the other said he treated me like his real mom. Yet, in the end, I was humiliated by them and died full of resentment. Late that night, Ethan still hadn't returned. I turned off the lights and fell asleep peacefully. I used to stay awake all night when he came home late, full of worry and anxiety, waiting up for him. He complained and accused me of restricting his freedom, saying my strict control was suffocating him. Now, I was setting him free. 3 When I received the call from the police precinct the next day, I wasn't surprised. In my previous life, this same event occurred, but I had aggressively intervened and bailed Ethan out of the entire mess. The center of this incident was his crush, Chloe Harper. "Whose parent are you?" I scanned the dejected teenagers and said, "Ethan Vance's." "They got drunk and started a brawl. One kid got his head smashed and is in the ER right now. Nobody is admitting to throwing the punch, so we..." On Chloe's youthful face, her makeup was heavy, her hair styled in big waves, yet she leaned pitifully against Ethan. Ethan glanced at me, lowered his head, and said stubbornly, "I want my dad here. I don't need you!" I called his dad right in front of him. It just rang busy; no one answered. The police officer suddenly asked sternly again, "Who exactly threw the punch?" Chloe suddenly burst into tears, hugging Ethan tightly. He looked up, and our eyes met. I knew who did it, and Ethan knew too. How would he choose? "It was me. I threw the punch. I smashed the bottle over his head." Ethan lifted his chin, his voice echoing firmly, taking the blame entirely. This was his defense of his true love, a display of his courage. He shielded Chloe in his arms like a real man. At that moment, Chloe's mother arrived. Highly emotional, she slapped Ethan across the face: "You delinquent, ruining my daughter! Now you didn't just end up in the precinct, you put someone in the hospital. One look at you and I know you're a thug. You're gonna end up in prison!" "Stay away from Chloe, do you hear me?!" Ethan's face turned pale. As a proud, privileged boy, this was the first time he had ever been cursed at like this. He looked at me, lost and confused, unable to understand why I—who usually coddled him—was just watching him get insulted. Without a single ripple of emotion. Chloe hid behind her mother at this moment, not saying a word. Ultimately, because it was his first offense, he was a high school student, and the other party had fought back (resulting in minor injuries overall), the situation was deemed mild. As long as we actively paid compensation, it could be settled out of court. He was still wearing a ridiculous studded leather jacket, ripped jeans, and reeked of cheap alcohol. I rolled down the car window. "You, why did you..." he started blankly, looking at my reflection in the rearview mirror, a swollen red slap mark still on his face. He didn't finish his question. After I finished handling the paperwork, we headed back to the school. 4 He used to hate me coming to his school. He wouldn't even allow me to attend parent-teacher conferences. From the moment he started school, he never once called me Mom. Once he realized the existence of his biological mother, he stopped calling me entirely and instead began to hurl insults. He firmly believed I was the one who ruined his parents' marriage, that I was a despicable homewrecker. I explained to him countless times that his dad and I dated normally; they had already been divorced. I was not a mistress. But Ethan clung to his own judgment. Combined with his rebellious teenage phase, he embarrassed me multiple times. He even directly invited his birth mom to family gatherings. Mother and son would sit together and pull his dad in, making me look utterly redundant. When introducing me to his friends, he would say: "Look, that's my stepmom. She's the mistress." I truly loved and protected him, treating him as my own child. How could a mother hold a grudge against her kid? But then, I caught him slipping birth control pills into my water. When confronted, he made ridiculous excuses. He didn't want me to have a child of my own, thinking I would start abusing him and that my child would fight him for the inheritance. I finally couldn't hold back and slapped him, demanding to know why he harbored such messed-up thoughts. He glared at me, like he was looking at a sworn enemy. When I was heartbroken and in despair, Ethan suddenly apologized. He said he was wrong, and our relationship temporarily softened. I gave in again. I watched him grow from a tiny toddler into a tall, strapping young man; he was my child. He said he wanted to get into Harvard, and I did everything in my power to help him, sacrificing my own career to manage his diet and schedule. Getting into an Ivy League is no easy feat. If he could win gold in the national competition, he'd secure early admission. If he failed the competition and his SAT scores weren't enough, I planned to arrange for him to study abroad. I had planned everything out for him, hoping his future would be smooth and brilliant. He achieved his dream; his future was bright. But it turned out he had always despised me deep down. I was a stain on his life. His warmth towards me was nothing but a fake facade, a scheme brewing to humiliate and take revenge on me. At his graduation, which also happened to be my birthday party, he was the golden boy, the envy of everyone. With his right hand, he held the birth mother who abandoned him, and with his left, the girlfriend who had once blackmailed me for $200,000. He looked at me with eyes full of pure hatred. In front of everyone, he called me a wicked stepmother with a venomous heart who abused him constantly, tearing him away from his true love and destroying his happiness. I was painted as an unforgivable, malicious woman. In front of the entire crowd, he poured red wine over my head and said he wished I were dead. In the moment my heart seized in agonizing pain, Ethan leaned close to me. He whispered that he had poisoned my medication, causing my body to fail day by day, because he truly wanted me to die. 5 I poured everything into raising him, yet he refused to attribute even a fraction of his success to me. But now, I was frequently heading to the school to clean up his messes. The homeroom teacher's expression was one of absolute heartbreak: "Ethan, how did you end up like this? The school has always treated you as a top Ivy League prospect! And you? Now you're dating, fighting, and ending up in the police precinct. What are you trying to do?!" "Mrs. Vance, as a parent, you have to care and discipline your child! You can't just let them run wild! Both the school and the family need to take responsibility." I patiently listened to the teacher's lecture. I used to understand this logic better than him, but this was Ethan's own choice. This time, I decided to respect all of his choices. I wanted to see if, by following his own desires, he could live a better life than in his previous one. He wasn't expelled, but he received a major demerit and was transferred from the AP classes to the regular classes. Studying is like rowing upstream; not advancing means falling back. He was already failing to keep up with the AP curriculum anyway. Due to my outstanding work performance, I was scheduled to travel for a very important corporate meeting that week. Ethan mentioned that the class was holding a parent-teacher conference. He lowered his eyes, seemingly already knowing my choice, assuming I would choose him. I used to want to go to his parent-teacher conferences so badly as his mother. I wanted to witness his honors, to proudly show everyone the gem I had carefully polished. But he never allowed me to go. He never gave me that chance. In my past life, when he got his first top-tier grades, I turned down a major promotion from my boss just to watch him receive his award. But Ethan intentionally gave me the wrong time and place. I waited there all day like an absolute fool. I wouldn't be a fool in this life. The next day, at his class's parent-teacher conference, only his seat remained empty. I chose my job, fulfilling his wish from the previous life. When I walked through the door, Ethan smashed a glass cup at my feet. His eyes were dark and bloodshot: "Why didn't you go to the school for the conference?! I was the only one in the whole class without a parent!" I looked at him silently. The scene was so strikingly similar. In the past life, he had roared at me just like this. "What right do you have to go to my school? Do you deserve to? You aren't my mom; you're just a disgusting homewrecker!" Time and space overlapped, shadows merging. I walked past him without a shred of emotion. In my past life, I was devastated, my heart pierced by the person I viewed as my own son. That feeling made me constantly doubt myself, wondering where I went wrong, where I had failed him. But now, my heart was completely indifferent. I wasn't his mom, so why should I go to his parent-teacher conference? His dad finally found the time to deliver a long, trans-oceanic lecture. In the past life, he was an absentee father. He left all the "bad cop" parenting to me, occasionally popping up to play the "good cop." It was so easy for him to become the tolerant, open-minded, ultimate good dad in his son's eyes. "Audrey, Ethan's teacher told me his grades have been slipping lately, and he's not studying properly. He's been doing all sorts of nonsense. What's going on?" "My ability to educate him is lacking. Why don't you come back and parent him yourself? Ethan misses his dad very much." The man immediately changed the subject: "Sigh, studying is ultimately his own responsibility. I'm too busy over here, I want to come back too, but I really can't get away. Audrey, you'll have to put in more effort. I'll call the boy and scold him too." This was an outcome I had anticipated long ago. His son was important, but not as important as his job. Only the old me, blinded by self-righteous maternal love, willingly sacrificed everything for him. Only to receive not a single ounce of gratitude in the end. 6 My career skyrocketed, and I quickly became the general manager of the branch office. The truth is, I was never inferior to anyone; I had just poured all my time and energy into Ethan before. Meanwhile, Ethan had completely degenerated into a delinquent. Skipping class, fighting, dating, and receiving multiple school-wide disciplinary warnings. His teachers stopped calling me. If even the parents had checked out, what could a teacher possibly change? We all gave up on Ethan. He finally got to choose the freedom he desperately wanted. He didn't have to be forced by me to drink milk every day or eat a balanced diet. He didn't have to wake up early for study hall, didn't have to shuttle between SAT prep classes on weekends, and didn't have to wear the same boring uniform every day. He no longer had to endure my nagging, my supervision, or my "unnecessary" care. He started fighting with his dad: "You were always busy with work and never cared before! What right do you have to interfere in my life now?! I make my own choices!" "You ungrateful little brat! If I don't make money, who supports the family? Who feeds you, clothes you, and apparently raises an enemy?! You better study hard and listen to me, do you hear me?!" "You guys never actually cared about me! You just treated me like a mindless puppet to satisfy your own control issues!" "What nonsense are you talking about?!" "..." "You little punk, if your teacher calls me again to say you're failing, I'll break your legs..." Crash— Ethan smashed his brand-new smartphone onto the floor. With bleached blonde hair and a black ear stud, he had completely transformed into a different person. He shot me a cold glare, left the house, and didn't return all night. Time refreshed day by day, and the countdown to the SATs and college admissions had begun. My professional performance was stellar, and I was successfully transferred back to corporate headquarters, promoted to senior management. "Ms. Collins, I'd like to request some time off. My son's school is having a parent-teacher conference. He ranked first in the entire school this time." My subordinate, Linda, asked for leave with a proud expression. Her child sent a voice memo at that moment. "Mom, you have to come! I want you to watch me get my award." I gladly approved her request. "Ms. Collins, your son must be taking his college entrance exams soon, right? I haven't heard you mention him lately. Ethan, wasn't it? You used to say he was so smart, he might just be the valedictorian this year!" I smiled. "I hope so. Hard work never deceives anyone."
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