Chapter 2

It wasn't until four in the morning that I heard Charles's muffled footsteps creeping through the front door.

After quietly washing up in the bathroom, he leaned over the bed, pressed a warm, tender kiss against my forehead, and slid beneath the duvet, wrapping his arms around me protectively.

The whisper coiled around my mind once more:

[Mommy! Daddy just got back from sleeping with his true love! How can you even sleep right now?!]

[I'm telling you, divorce him and run away with me! When I grow up, I'll take such good care of you, I promise!]

Listening to the exact same venomous whispers as before, I kept my breathing even and pretended to be fast asleep.

I quietly replayed everything from my past life.

When I demanded a divorce back then, Charles had been devastated and completely blindsided, yet he ultimately respected my decision.

He had walked away from our marriage leaving all our joint assets to me, and sent generous alimony into my account every single month without fail.

He hadn't even known I was pregnant until the hospital called him with the news that both his ex-wife and their unborn baby had died during labor.

After that day, he lost his mind with grief.

Remembering his utter devotion and heartbreak, a seed of doubt sprouted in my chest.

Had he really cheated on me?

I resolved to stay awake and talk to him face-to-face when morning came.

Yet when I opened my eyes at dawn, the spot next to me was already cold. Charles had already left for the office.

A sticky note and a text were left behind:

[Morning, sweetheart. I made breakfast and left it on the dining table. Fresh warm soy milk is in the blender. Have a great day!]

The moment the text registered in my mind, the thing in my belly began thrashing aggressively.

[Mommy, he's putting on a show! He rushed out early just to meet up with his mistress!]

[Hurry up and divorce him! You're the only one who can protect me!]

The more frantic the voice became, the more certain I was that this was a trap.

It wanted me isolated. It wanted me to cut off the only person who cared about me, ensuring that on delivery day, there would be no family in the waiting room—leaving me helpless to die on that cold operating table.

Not this time. I would rewrite this ending.

On my way to work, an old man dressed in a ragged fortune teller's robe suddenly lunged from the sidewalk, grabbing my coat with wide, frantic eyes.

"Things that do not belong to you—you must never touch them!"

Startled half to death, I instinctively pulled back. "What are you talking about?"

Assuming he was some kind of street scammer or a madman, I turned to walk away.

Instead, his grip tightened like iron around my sleeve, his voice cracking as he hissed into my face, "That life does not belong to you! Cast it away! Leave it at once!"

A cold shudder crawled up my spine. His crazed, piercing gaze didn't have a trace of mockery in it; he was utterly terrified.

I froze on the concrete, his words echoing in my head.

"That life does not belong to you?"

Did he know I was reborn?

Or did he mean that even in this second chance, my life was being held hostage?

A suffocating wave of fear wrapped around my throat. But before I could demand an explanation, the old man spun around and vanished into the bustling alleyway.

Before my thoughts could settle, the icy whisper tore through my consciousness.

[Mommy... who were you just talking to?]