I had no way to defend myself. And Derek's words sealed it: "If you didn't push her, why were you taking care of her?"

I lost the case.

So now that I'd been given a second chance—why in the world would I make the same mistake twice?

I booked a plane ticket before anything else. Then I posted it in the family group chat, announcing my holiday travel plans for everyone to see.

Within minutes of posting, my phone rang. Aunt Patricia.

"Jennifer Dickerson, what is going on?"

"Why are you suddenly going on a trip?"

Her voice dripped with displeasure. "You know perfectly well that I'm not in good health!"

I listened, and I smiled.

Before—in my old life—hearing her say that would've made me feel guilty. I would've told myself she was just scared of being alone.

But now? I knew exactly what she was. I was nothing but free labor to her.

"Aunt Patricia, I have my own life."

"And there's nothing wrong with me going on vacation, is there?"

Silence on the other end. A beat. Then she recovered.

"Jennifer, your aunt is not a well woman. It's the holidays—of course you should be here helping me!"

"Leaving without a word—does that seem right to you?"

I let out a light laugh. "What's wrong with it, Aunt Patricia?"

"After all, I'm not your daughter."

"And I'm under no obligation to take care of you."

The moment those words left my mouth, her tone shifted completely.

"Jennifer, how can you say something like that?"

"Aunt Patricia, I have my own life, and I want to travel this year!"

My voice was flat, detached. "I heard Derek's coming back soon."

"Whatever you need, take it up with him."

The second those words left my mouth, I hung up.

Then I called an Uber and headed straight for the airport.

Once I arrived, I made a point of snapping plenty of photos—the departure board, the terminal, myself standing in front of the gate.

I posted them all on social media.

These were my evidence. Proof that I was nowhere near Aunt Patricia. I hadn't pushed her. I hadn't touched her. And now that I was clearly traveling, even if she did fall, there was no way anyone could pin it on me.

The thought loosened something in my chest.

At least this time, what happened in my last life wouldn't happen again.

When I reached the resort area, I checked into the nicest hotel I could find and took even more photos—the lobby, the room, the view from the balcony. Every single one timestamped, every single one showing exactly where I was.