I was framed as a murderer and tortured to death. I wasn't responding, so Ruby approached me worriedly, "What's wrong, Honey? Are you too busy?" Her tone was soft as if she were afraid of troubling me.
When I looked at her gentle expression, my heart sank. In my past life, I had been buried in work. My wife and mother-in-law had always been the ones to take our son to and from school. So why did something so terrible happen on the day they asked me to take him? Was it really just a coincidence?
After a moment of hesitation, I looked at Ruby and thoughtfully said, "I think our son looks a little unwell today. Maybe he should stay home instead?"
Ruby glanced at our son, then nodded. "Alright, we'll do as you say."
"Just remember to call the teacher and let her know," I added.
Alice smiled and said, "Then I'll leave little Ronan in your care today."
Their reactions seemed perfectly natural, so normal that I couldn't see any flaw. Still, the more normal it seemed, the more uneasy I felt. After Ruby and Alice left, I looked at my son. He was quietly sitting at the table, eating his breakfast obediently. My eyes welled up. I couldn't shake the memory of his lifeless body, drowning in that pond in my past life.
How terrified must my son have been in his final moments? Holding back the lump in my throat, I sat beside my son and gently asked, "Ronan, how have your mom and grandma been treating you lately?"
He replied with a bright, innocent smile, "They've been really good to me, Dad."
I paused momentarily before continuing, "And what about your teacher? How does he treat you?"
"He's great! He takes good care of me at kindergarten!" His response was natural and straightforward, his small face glowing with happiness.
Then he blinked his big, bright eyes, looking confused. "Dad, I don't feel sick today. Why aren't we going to school?"
I stroked his soft cheek, my heart aching. "Because Dad can't bear to be apart from you."
In my past life, sending him to kindergarten that day had led to his mysterious drowning. This time, I wouldn't let anything happen to him. After breakfast, my son sat in the living room, watching TV while I cleared the table and washed the dishes. Halfway through, my phone rang. It was his teacher. "Mr. Yelverton, why hasn't your son come to school today? Is he feeling unwell?"