1
Before I opened my eyes again, I found myself back on the day I first filed for divorce.
In front of the civil affairs bureau, the sky was overcast, and a chilly wind was blowing.
My ex-husband, Ethan Hunter, pressed his lips tightly together and said nothing, while our thirteen-year-old daughter held my hand, pleading, "Mom, please don't divorce Dad, okay?"
In my previous life, it was the pleading look in her eyes that softened my heart, causing me to miss the only chance I had to escape the nightmare.
I ended up swallowing my pain and continued to endure Ethan's increasingly rampant alcoholism and domestic violence.
Finally, after my daughter got into college, I brought up divorce once more.
This time, not only was Ethan unwilling, but our daughter also strongly opposed it, asking, "Do you still want this family?"
She even threatened to jump off a building.
After she finished her graduate exams, I made up my mind to secretly file for divorce, hoping to escape and start living separately. I thought I had finally made it out, but she revealed my address to Ethan, giving him the opportunity to confront me, which led to a tragic argument where I was fatally stabbed.
Pushing away the painful memories, I said coldly, "Sophie, you're not a child anymore. Some things require you to think with your brain."
"Mom, which family doesn't have conflicts? If you just endure it, it will pass! Are you really going to be so selfish and break up our family?!"
She had been so well protected that she could still speak such nonsense. All she wanted was a false sense of dignity, never considering my feelings.
After receiving the divorce certificate, I said softly, "This is your last chance. Do you want to come with me?"
She bit her lip, firmly standing in front of me like a child throwing a tantrum, holding onto Ethan.
I nodded and resolutely walked away.
2
Sophie Hunter is the person I loved most in my previous life.
So when I learned that she had betrayed me, the pain in my heart was sharper than any knife.
From the moment she was born, her paternal grandmother despised her for being a girl, and her father was indifferent to her. Yet, as I watched her angelic face while she slept, I vowed to give my best to this little darling.
With no one to care for her, I had no choice but to carry her on my back during the day while working odd jobs in the factory and taking on handicraft work at night, striving to support us both.
As she grew up, despite our poor living conditions, she didn't fare worse than her peers. Her cleverness made me feel that everything was worthwhile.
When she got into the best university in the city, I was so proud. To earn money, to escape that stagnant home, and to see my daughter often, I started selling pancakes at the back door of the school.
The first time she saw me with friends at my stall, her shock was evident. I was overjoyed, waiting for her to call me "Mom," but instead, she hurriedly turned away, embarrassed.
She grabbed her friend and left.
I stood there, watching her retreating figure, feeling a deep sense of loss.
But I consoled myself, thinking that children care about their image. Maybe she just needed time to accept it.
Late at night, as I was closing up, she rushed over.
I was thrilled and quickly took out the portion I had saved for her, eager to warm it up.
I knew deep down that my daughter still cared for me.
But when she spoke, it was only to question, "Mom, why are you selling pancakes here? What will my classmates think of me?"
My heart sank instantly. "Sophie, if you don't let me sell, how will I pay for your tuition and living expenses?"
She stomped her foot, looking like she couldn't communicate with me at all. "I knew you would say that. But there was no need to set up right outside my school!"
"Can't a mom just want to see her daughter?"
"Mom, you're an adult. Can't you live for yourself? I'm your daughter, not your accessory!"
That night, we parted on bad terms.
I understood her feelings, but I didn't want to spend another day and night with a man who reeked of alcohol, nor did I want to work in a dark, lifeless workshop anymore.
I wanted to stay here, in this vibrant campus filled with lively students, where I could see my daughter. Here, I felt a sense of peace and hope for life.
Even though she protested with silence and refused to speak to me first, I stubbornly stayed, keeping my distance and trying not to disturb her.
One day, while I was busy setting up my stall, I suddenly spotted my daughter stepping out of a luxury car, beaming with a radiant smile.
The driver was a notorious playboy from a wealthy family!
I had heard students gossip about him while selling pancakes—he was known for being flirtatious, playing with girls' feelings, and had even caused some to get sick.
Worried, I tried to reach out to Sophie, but she wouldn't answer my calls. It wasn't until my monthly living expenses were late that she finally picked up.
On the phone, she scoffed at my concerns.
In her daily life, she continued to hold his arm as they went out together.
Feeling desperate, I sought out the playboy.
Eventually, they broke up. After returning to the library to study, Sophie successfully got into a prestigious graduate program.
At that point, I felt it was time to file for divorce again. I rented a place near the school and completely separated from Ethan.
Just as I finally felt free, proud of my daughter's achievements, and hopeful for the future, Ethan burst into my rented apartment with a knife.
As I became a vengeful spirit, I realized my daughter had revealed my new address to him.
It was my daughter who hated me for breaking up their family.
It was my daughter who felt I had embarrassed her.
It was my daughter who didn't want me to separate, who didn't want to bear the burden of a father with epilepsy alone.
In front of the camera, she sobbed innocently, "I just wanted Mom and Dad to be together."
At my grave, she smiled selfishly.
"Now that Dad is in prison, I won't have to bear the burden for the rest of my life. Good mom, consider this your last act of kindness for your daughter."
Hearing those cold words, I trembled uncontrollably.
3
After I ignored dozens of calls from them, father and daughter finally realized I wasn't joking.
They enlisted all their friends and family to bombard me with calls, blaming and scolding me.
But I paid them no mind.
At that moment, I was already on the bus to Aldoria.
Having been reborn, I had no better plan, so I decided to start my stall business in the familiar university town.
The university town was just beginning to develop, with many shops still vacant. I walked around in the biting cold wind and found the most cost-effective shop available.
After curling up outside for a night, the next day, I waited at the north gate of Aldoria University, finally spotting Professor Lewis.
In my previous life, she was one of my regular customers. Despite being the dean, she was kind and approachable, and we would occasionally chat.
When she learned about my interest in management, she even privately invited me to audit her class.
I attended once, wearing a mask and sitting in the back row, trying to understand the complex concepts that felt like foreign languages.
But I never returned.
It wasn't that I didn't like it; I was just afraid my daughter would see me and bring unnecessary trouble.
This time, I approached Professor Lewis to ask for my first loan.
She looked at me with confusion, saying, "We don't know each other. Why would I lend money to a stranger?"
I replied sincerely, "Because I've heard students say you're a good person."
"I can write a promissory note, and I can leave my ID with you. For the first six months, I won't take anything for myself; every penny I earn will go to paying you back with interest."
Based on what I had seen in my past life, I laid out my business ideas and plans for her.
After a long pause, she agreed.
With that first loan, I secured a five-year lease on a shop at the lowest price.
By the end of that first five years, not only had I repaid the loan, but I also purchased that shop and opened two more branches.
That's when I saw Sophie.
4
Seeing each other here surprised us both.
Indeed, she was now a freshman.
This time, she was attending an ordinary university rather than the prestigious Aldoria University, as she had in my previous life.
It seemed my departure had quietly changed some things.
It was nothing like what she had claimed. "I got into Aldoria University solely through my own efforts; it has nothing to do with you! Don't try to take credit!"
Over the years, aside from sending child support on time, we had no contact. However, I had heard from neighbors that after I left, Ethan sank deeper into alcoholism and neglected Sophie. It was only through relatives pooling their resources that they managed to scrape together her tuition.
I also learned that Sophie had spun a story among her relatives and friends, claiming I had abandoned my husband and daughter to chase after a married man.
At that moment, Sophie walked toward me, her face pale and contemptuous.
"I thought you'd be doing great, but here you are, hiding out selling pancakes!"
I paused, my hand stilling as I spread the sauce.
I ignored her.
A girl next to her quietly asked if we knew each other, and Sophie sharply denied it, saying, "What are you talking about? I don't know her!"
"Isn't she just an old woman selling pancakes? Who knows where she came from, making a fool of herself in the city?"
I kept my head down and replied, "If you're not buying, please move along."
I didn't know which word triggered her, but suddenly her voice rose sharply.
"Get your boss out here! This woman is unhygienic; her saliva is getting on the pancakes!"
This drew the attention of several students nearby.
"Where's the boss?!"
At that moment, employees rushed from the cash register and kitchen upon hearing the commotion. Seeing this, Sophie became even louder, "Who is the boss?! This woman is unhygienic; why haven't you fired her yet?"
The employees exchanged glances, unsure of what to do.
Then, the chef stepped forward, brandishing a knife and shouted, "What are you yelling about?! This is our boss!"