1
I married Robert Smith because I was pregnant.
To marry him, I severed ties with the parents who had raised me for 25 years.
Following his mother's advice, I quit my job, which paid 20,000 a month, to stay home and focus on the pregnancy.
Robert knelt and promised me that I wouldn't miss out on the dowry, a house, or a wedding.
And he did deliver.
It was only later that I found out that the three-bedroom house was rented, and the money for the dowry and wedding was borrowed.
I only discovered everything when the debt collectors came knocking and the landlord appeared after the wedding.
To have a peaceful life, I took out the dowry money and even added another 100,000 of my own to pay off the debts and rent.
After that, Robert and I moved to an old, small two-bedroom apartment.
But the less-than-90-square-meter house was home to me, Robert, his mother, and his younger sister, which was a bit too crowded.
He said that his mother had worked hard her whole life, and as her daughter-in-law, I had to be filial and let her have the master bedroom.
He said his sister was preparing for an important exam and needed a quiet place to study, so she got the second bedroom.
And I ended up sharing a less-than-10-square-meter room on the enclosed balcony with him.
I loved him, so I agreed.
Thankfully, the house I bought before the wedding was almost finished being renovated, and soon Robert and I could move in and finally have some time for ourselves.
At first, his family treated me fairly well, and for a moment, I thought I was the happiest person in the world.
I imagined that after the baby was born, I would take her and Robert back to my parents' house, showing them that I hadn't made a mistake.
But when I was four months pregnant, and his mother found out the baby was a girl, her attitude changed.
Not only did the nutritious meals stop, but she also started scolding me.
She said I was useless, that they had spent 88,000 to marry me, and I couldn't even bear a son.
I complained to Robert, hoping for a few comforting words.
But he looked at me with disdain and said, "Isn't my mom right? If you could manage to have a boy, my mom would spoil you."
Then he turned back to his phone, smiling.
After being brainwashed by Robert and his mother day after day, I started to believe I was at fault, that I had failed the family by not continuing their bloodline.
A week later, my mother-in-law heard of a remedy from somewhere.
She wanted me to abort the baby, set up a shrine for her at home, and take a special potion that would ensure the next child was a boy.
Under their constant pressure, I went to the hospital.
The emotional torment had taken its toll, and instead of gaining weight, I had lost a few pounds, my cheeks were sunken, and there were dark circles under my eyes.
Sitting in the hospital hallway, I rubbed my already showing belly and stared blankly at the wall.
Suddenly, I felt the baby move.
I pictured myself playing with her.
The baby's strong will to live awakened my maternal instincts.
At the door of the operating room, I knelt in front of my mother-in-law, sobbing, begging her to spare the baby.
Due to the doctor and public opinion, she reluctantly agreed.
When we got home, she threw her bag aside, her face red with anger, and sat on the couch, berating me in front of Robert and her three daughters.
"You ungrateful thing! You dared to embarrass me in front of everyone. If you're so determined to have this worthless girl, you'd better go earn money for her! Don't expect me to take care of you."
As she said, she stopped cooking for me and didn't let Robert give me any money.
But thankfully, I had some savings from before the marriage, which allowed me to cover the baby's expenses.
My sister-in-law accidentally found out and told my mother-in-law.
She rushed to me, her face twisted in disgust, pointing at my nose, and yelled, "I underestimated you, you sly woman. How dare you hide money from me? I'll beat you to death!"
Before she finished, she slapped me hard across the face.
She then barged into my room with Robert and began searching for the money, muttering, "Where's the money? Once you marry into this family, you're one of us. What's yours is mine."
Before long, she found the 200,000 dollars bank card I had saved before the marriage.
She stood in front of me, demanding the PIN just as Robert came home.
I looked at him, pleading for help.
But after hearing what his sister said, he coldly glared at me. "Can't you just behave? Do you always have to make trouble? She's my mom. You're supposed to be filial. What's wrong with giving her the money? What's yours is mine."
Ignoring my desperate pleas, he turned and told her the PIN: our wedding anniversary.
Looking at Robert's indifference and his mother's smug face, for the first time, I felt regret.
Was the man I gave up everything for really worth it?
2
To support myself and provide nutrition for the baby, I started doing part-time work, packing parcels at the delivery point downstairs in our neighborhood.
Fortunately, the owner, seeing that I was a pregnant woman working to earn money, thought my husband had passed away and treated me kindly.
Perhaps due to malnutrition during the pregnancy, the baby was born prematurely.
On the day I gave birth, Robert brought his mother and sisters to the hospital and pressured me to transfer the ownership of my property to his illegitimate child with another woman.
It was only then that I discovered Robert had another family outside.
I refused, and that very afternoon, his mother took my 200,000 dollars and went on a family vacation.
When I called Robert, all I received were insults.
I couldn't reach him, and I felt too ashamed to call my parents for help.
I had no choice but to borrow money from friends to pay the hospital bills.
After returning home, I had to learn how to care for the baby by following online tutorials.
With no food left in the house and no money, I resorted to cooking expired instant noodles.
This continued until his family returned from their vacation.
But they still didn't leave me alone.
They forced me to do housework during my postpartum recovery and to pack parcels to support the family.
When they found out that my difficult labor had left me unable to have more children, they publicly cursed and berated me on the street.
They even laid hands on me.
It was after this incident that I seriously began considering divorce.
But I didn't have a penny to my name, and Robert had already transferred all our money to his mother.
Divorcing him would mean walking away with nothing, and without the means to support my baby, I had to put my plans on hold.
I hadn't expected that my continuous concessions would only lead to further humiliation.
Robert even brought his mistress and their illegitimate child home as if it were his right.
I tried to resist, but all I got in return were his punches and kicks.
My mother-in-law, who has a grandson, treated me like a servant at home and asked me to take care of the mistress.
If I didn't agree, Robert would beat me.
I called the police, but they just treated it as a family dispute and mediated.
Under the constant abuse from Robert, his mistress, his mother, and his sisters, I developed depression.
On the day of my baby's 100-day celebration, I spread my wings like a bird, seeking freedom.
3
After my death, my soul floated in the air, and only then did I realize that Robert had drugged me to take the house for his illegitimate child.
This was the reason for my tragic fate.
Robert successfully acquired my house and transferred ownership to his illegitimate child.
With my inheritance, Robert and his mistress lived happily ever after with their family.
Their illegitimate child excelled in his studies and used my father's inheritance to study abroad.
After returning, he fell in love with and married the daughter of his supervisor.
With his father-in-law's help, his career flourished.
Meanwhile, my daughter was raised by them, growing up spoiled and helpless, a shadow of her former self.
At a young age, she married and repeated my tragic cycle.
At some point, I found myself watching them live happily with a calm heart.
It wasn't that I didn't hate them.
If I could, I would have killed them all myself.
But more than anything, I hated myself.
I had so many chances to save both myself and my daughter, but I missed them all because of my weakness.
I couldn't reconcile that.
"Do you want a chance to start over?"
Without hesitation, I nodded.
My consciousness faded, and when I opened my eyes again, I heard my mother-in-law's voice persuading me. "Diana, you know you've given birth to a useless girl, and you won't be able to have more children. Our Smith family can't end like this. Andy is at least a boy. Just transfer the house to him."
Before I could react, I heard Robert's voice follow. "My mom is right. A girl doesn't need a house, but Andy is different. He is the only son in the third generation of the Smith family. Even though he is from another woman, after our daughter gets married, she'll need Andy to rely on."
4
Seeing that I hadn't responded for a long time, my mother-in-law walked up to me, her weathered face looming in front of mine.
Out of instinct, I raised my hand and slapped her.
As I stared at my tingling palm, tears welled up in my eyes, and I finally felt the reality of my rebirth.
My mother-in-law stood there in shock, clutching her cheek, her hand trembling as she pointed at me, then looked at Robert, who was standing by the bed.
"Robert, look at your wife! She dares to hit your mother! She's completely out of control!"
Robert, enraged by her words, rushed at me to hit me.
But before he could raise his hand, I knelt on the bed and slapped him hard across the face.
Staring at his hateful expression, I snarled, "Get out!"
Completely unprepared, he was knocked to the ground by my slap.
Seeing her mother and brother being hit, my sister-in-law's face turned red with anger. She rushed at me, ready for a fight.
I grabbed the pillows behind me and threw them at her in a flurry, then got off the bed and slapped her twice when she was stunned.
Slap!
Slap!
Two crisp slaps left her standing there in shock.
I hadn't forgotten that in my previous life, it was her who suggested marrying my daughter off to an old bachelor to pay off her debts.
Thinking of my daughter's tragic fate in her past life, I grabbed my sister-in-law and slapped her once more.
The room fell into a deathly silence.
It was my sister-in-law who reacted first, covering her face and screaming, "Ah!!!"
Finally, after becoming a soul in my last life, I had done what I always wanted to do. There was only one word to describe it.
Satisfying!
Just as they were about to curse at me, a nurse opened the door and, with a dark expression, looked at my mother-in-law and her family.
"The hospital prohibits loud noises. Who was shouting just now? Get out."
Robert's family was scolded by both me and the nurse, and they slunk out of the room in embarrassment.
Before leaving, my mother-in-law's eyes glared at me, brimming with venomous malice.
Who knew what sinister plans she was brewing in her mind.
5
Sure enough, not long after they left, I received a call from my husband, threatening me to transfer the house ownership to his illegitimate child.
At first, he was calm and tried to persuade me gently.
Later, seeing I didn't respond, he directly threatened me.
I sneered, "Robert, does your family have any shame? You were already cheating before we even got married, and had an illegitimate child just a few months older than our baby. And you still have the audacity to ask me to transfer the house I bought before marriage to that illegitimate child? How shameless!"
"I'll tell you this, even if I sell the house and donate all the money, I won't let that illegitimate child or the mistress get a single penny."
After that, I hung up the phone.
I immediately reported my mother-in-law's stolen card and simultaneously called the police, claiming my card had been stolen.
Did they think they could enjoy my money? No way!
In my previous life, how foolish I must have been to let that family control me like this.
As expected, just like before, my mother-in-law took the family and went on a trip with the card I had just canceled, the same afternoon I refused to transfer the house.
After visiting the premature baby unit, I dialed a number I never called in my previous life — my parents' number.
It was my dad who picked up.