When I woke up in this body, the story was already wrapping up. The heroine, after enduring a gauntlet of hardships, had become an A-list movie star and was living her happily-ever-after with the CEO male lead. Meanwhile, the vicious villainess—who tried to ruin the heroine but failed miserably—had reaped what she sowed. She lost her reputation, her purity, and wound up pregnant. That villainess? Yeah, that’s me now. 1 By the time I realized I was pregnant, I was already four months along. I stood under the flickering yellow light of a cramped bathroom, my fingers trembling as they traced the slight curve of my belly. The woman in the mirror looked like a ghost—dark circles carved under her eyes, lips cracked and pale. It had been three days since I transmigrated here. In my old life, I was an orphan. I never knew what family felt like. Now? I was Kaia Yates, the resident "Mean Girl" of a romance novel, and I was apparently expecting. According to the memories flooding my brain, the original Kaia had tried to frame her stepsister—the heroine, Faye Yates—one too many times. Her final scheme backfired spectacularly. She ended up in a trap of her own making, slept with a stranger, got exposed by the paparazzi, and was completely canceled. Ding. My phone buzzed. A bank notification. Available Balance: $1,527.68. That was every cent Kaia had left. Since the scandal broke, her father—the Chairman of Yates Corp—had publicly disowned her, shifting all his fatherly affection to his stepdaughter, Faye. I dragged my heavy feet to the window and pulled back the curtains. Outside, the New York skyline glittered. Skyscrapers, neon lights, endless traffic. It was supposed to be the city of dreams, but right now, it felt like a cage. The cost of living here was astronomical. This body was weak and needed rest; I couldn't exactly grind a 9-to-5 right now. "I can't stay here," I decided right then and there. Three days later, I packed a single duffel bag and boarded a train heading south. The concrete jungle faded, replaced by rolling green fields. I picked a place called Greenwood Valley. Cheap rent, fresh air, and most importantly—zero connection to the plot of the novel. "Miss, we're here. Greenwood Valley," the driver announced. I hopped out, inhaling air that smelled like wet grass and soil. It was picturesque. Mountains in the distance, farmhouses scattered around, the sound of dogs barking. I found the rental I’d looked up online. The landlord was an old man named Mr. Lee. Weather-beaten face, kind eyes. "This is it. Five hundred a month. First and last upfront." Mr. Lee pushed open the creaky wooden gate. "It's old, but the bones are good." The yard was bigger than I expected. A massive magnolia tree stood in the center, shading a couple of broken wicker chairs. The house was a simple bungalow. Peeling paint, but sturdy. The best part? A neglected vegetable patch on the side. Weeds were throwing a party, but the soil looked rich. "I'll take it," I said, counting out a grand and handing it to him. Before leaving, Mr. Lee pointed west. "The Higgins family lives over there. Good folks. If you need anything, holler at them." It took me all day to clean the place. By sunset, I was squatting in the garden pulling weeds when a warm voice floated over the fence. "Hey there! You the new tenant?" I looked up. A woman in her fifties, hair pulled back in a practical bun, was holding a covered basket. "Yes, hi. I'm Kaia." I stood up, dusting dirt off my hands. "I'm Mrs. Higgins from next door," she beamed, walking through the open gate. "Saw you moving in alone. Figured you hadn't eaten, so I brought some supper." I froze. I wasn't used to kindness. She pulled back the cloth. A container of pot roast, some glazed carrots, and fresh homemade biscuits. "This... thank you so much." My nose stung. I blinked back tears. Since arriving in this world, this was the first time anyone had been nice to me. Mrs. Higgins waved it off. "Neighbors help neighbors. You here by yourself?" My hand instinctively went to my bump. "Yeah... just me." Her gaze dropped to my stomach. A flicker of understanding passed through her eyes, but there was no judgment. Just warmth. "Well, you're eating for two now. Gotta keep your strength up. You need anything, you ask." The dam broke. The stress of the last few days crashed down, and I started crying right there in the garden. Mrs. Higgins didn't miss a beat. She set the basket down and patted my back like I was her own kid. "It's okay, honey. It's gonna be okay." 2 Life slowed down. The air in Greenwood Valley was healing. My cheeks started to get some color back. In the mornings, I sat under the magnolia tree with an embroidery hoop. The original Kaia had beautiful hands—slender, pale, artistic. I traced my own knuckles. Funny how fate works. We shared a name and a face, but our lives were opposites. In my old world, I grew up in the system. At ten, I was sent to a vocational school for arts. I specialized in embroidery. I used to prick my fingers until they bled just to master a stitch. I eventually made good money, but I developed chronic wrist pain. "I need to take care of these hands this time," I whispered, threading a needle. On the fabric, a landscape called Spring Mountain began to form. Green hills, peach blossoms, a golden oriole. It was a blend of traditional technique and modern aesthetics. "Kaia, stitching again?" Mrs. Higgins walked in with a basket of fresh eggs. Since finding out I was single and pregnant, she’d practically adopted me. "Yeah, thinking of selling some online." Mrs. Higgins leaned in. "That bird looks like it's gonna fly right off the cloth! You could sell this for a fortune in the city." I shook my head. "Online competition is stiff. I'm just starting out. Maybe fifty bucks a pop." I rubbed my neck. Seven months pregnant, and my back was killing me. "Alright, break time," Mrs. Higgins scolded gently. "You're popping soon. I made chicken soup. Drink up." Time flew. The due date arrived. The county hospital was basic but clean. The contractions hit like a freight train. I gripped the sheets, soaked in cold sweat. In a haze, I thought I saw the original Kaia standing by the bed. She was wearing a ballgown, looking hollow and sad. I'll live a good life for you, I thought. She seemed to smile, relieved, before fading into the harsh hospital lights. "Waaah!" A loud cry shattered the night. The nurse placed a red, squirming bundle on my chest. "It's a healthy boy. Seven pounds, six ounces." I touched his wrinkled little face. He stopped crying and gripped my finger. "I'll call you Leo," I whispered. "My little lion." Mrs. Higgins came the next day with oatmeal. "He's gorgeous," she cooed. "Looks just like you. Gonna be a heartbreaker." I looked at Leo. Maybe he looked like his dad, whoever that was. I didn't know, and I didn't care. The past was dead. Raising a baby was expensive. Diapers, formula, clothes... my savings were evaporating. I went back to embroidery, but a few orders weren't enough. One night, scrolling TikTok, I saw an embroidery streamer. Just her hands, thousands of viewers. I can do that. I set up a tripod. The first stream was nerve-wracking. Viewers were scarce. But I kept at it. 【Your hands are so pretty!】 【How did you do that stitch?】 【Do you take commissions?】 Slowly, I built a following. I stitched while Leo napped and streamed for two hours a night. It was exhausting, but seeing Leo’s sleeping face made it worth it. 3 Leo was five months old now. He was turning into a little dumpling. Pale skin, big dark eyes, always curious. One evening, I set up the stream as usual. Leo was on his playmat, wrestling with a colorful bead maze. He was focused, brows furrowed, trying to push a bead from one side to the other. "Mommy's working now, Leo. Play nice," I said, kissing his soft hair. He grinned, showing off two bottom teeth, then went back to his battle with the beads. I started the stream. About ten minutes in, I realized the camera angle was off. I reached to adjust it, but I accidentally nudged the tripod. Suddenly, Leo—in his little blue onesie—appeared in the corner of the frame. Just his back view. The chat exploded. 【OMG WHO IS THAT TINY HUMAN?】 【So smol!】 【Does the streamer have a baby?】 【Look at his little hair tuft! Ahhh!】 I panicked. "Oh, sorry! That's my son, Leo. Didn't mean to show him." That just made them crazier. 【Let us see his face!】 【How old is he?】 【What is he doing? He looks so serious!】 Views spiked. Leo, sensing eyes on him, turned his head. "Sorry guys, no face reveals. Privacy," I said gently. "But... you can watch him play from the back." I adjusted the camera so his chubby back took up the corner. He was trying to shove a circle block into a square hole. When it didn't fit, he let out a dramatic baby sigh. The chat lost its mind. 【He sighed! He literally sighed!】 【Mood, kid. Mood.】 【This is the serotonin I needed today.】 My viewer count went from 1,000 to 30,000 in twenty minutes. Gifts were flying across the screen. By the time I signed off, I had gained 20,000 new followers. I picked Leo up and peppered his face with kisses. "My lucky charm! How are you so popular?" He giggled, grabbing my hair. That night, I realized this was my ticket. I started incorporating "Mom & Baby" themes into my art. Stitching chubby hands, baby animals, cute silhouettes. A brand reached out for a collab. $2,000 upfront. That was six months of living expenses in Greenwood Valley. I signed the contract and danced around the yard with Leo. "We're gonna be okay, Leo! We're gonna be okay!" 4 I carefully curated my content. Short clips of Leo (always from the back or with a sticker over his face). Leo in a bear suit watching ants. Leo "drawing" with crayons. Leo waddling like a penguin. The fans dubbed him "The Back-View Assassin" because he killed them with cuteness. My embroidery business boomed. My savings account hit six figures for the first time. I started being picky. No mass production. Only high-end art. I stitched a fan called 100 Children at Play. It took 48 different stitch techniques. A viewer named SilkRiverMaster started commenting. 【That's the 'Golden Thread' technique. It's been lost for decades.】 【Where did you learn this?】 【You have at least 20 years of experience.】 I smiled at the camera. In my past life, I was a prodigy. One evening, I was walking Leo in the stroller. We passed a house that was usually empty. The gate was open. I saw an elderly woman lying face down in the yard, a spilled water bucket next to her. "Leo, wait here." I locked the stroller brake and ran in. She was barely breathing. I called 911 and did basic first aid until the ambulance came. When the sirens wailed, her eyes fluttered open. "Nosy... girl..." she wheezed. I stayed at the hospital until she was stable. I left Leo with Mrs. Higgins and brought soup to the hospital the next day. The woman, Ruby Lane, sat in bed, looking fierce despite the IVs. "You again. Think I'm gonna pay you?" I set down the soup. "If I left you there, I wouldn't sleep at night. Eat." She stared at the soup, hands trembling. She took a sip. "It's... good," she rasped. "Thanks."
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