Chapter 1

I returned to the night my mom died, the day she walked out on Dad and me.

On this day in my previous life, Dad put his mistress first in his phone chat over Mom. Mom, who was always crying, removed her apron and asked for a divorce.

I felt bewildered. "Mom, why would you divorce over such a trivial matter?"

Dad and I didn't ask her to stay, and Mom left with a luggage.

It was raining that night. Mom got into a car accident and died.

Soon, Dad married his mistress. His company went bankrupt and the family fell into chaos.

That was when Dad and I remembered how good it was when Mom was around, but it was too late—she was already dead.

This time round, Mom gave up on Dad and left this terrible marriage.

I stayed, plotting revenge on Dad while giving Mom a chance at a brilliant life.

*****

I woke up to find myself six years old again.

Once more, I heard Mom's shaky voice say, "Why are you doing this to me? Haven't I been good enough to you?"

My eyes snapped open, heart thundering in my chest. This scene was painfully familiar, a memory I hadn't lived through in forever.

Back then, Mom would always catch Tracy Shaffer's chats popping up in Dad's messages.

Dad did it on purpose.

He kept leaving his chats with Tracy open for everyone to see at the dinner table.

The messages were way too flirty.

Mom was timid. She'd just quietly wipe away tears as she did the dishes.

When she asked me, "What do you think of Tracy?"

I stared her right in the eye, cold as ice, my words ruthless. "Tracy is awesome. She always gives me presents—she's way nicer to me than you are."

Hearing that, she should've smacked me across the face out of pure anger.

Back in the day, Mom was a boxer—fearless in the ring, taking down her opponents with ease. She looked truly heroic, and those cool snapshots of her in action were exactly why Dad fell for her.

But right now, she couldn't even muster the courage to throw a fuss.

It wasn't until today, while Dad was showering, that Mom caught sight of his pinned contacts—Tracy was right at the top.

Meanwhile, Mom didn't even have a special note or nickname; her messages just got drowned out under all the noisy group chats.

That one message Mom had sent: [It's my birthday today. I cooked a feast. Come home early, okay?]—still sat there unread.

Mom lost it, and started yelling at Dad.

Dad frowned, snatched his phone, and stormed out.

He said, "What now? Crying again? That's all you do. You and Eileen can eat by yourselves. I just got called in to work overtime—don't wait for me."

But there was no work call at all. Tracy had texted Dad to go out, and Mom saw everything.

Mom just quietly nodded and didn't ask him to stay.

She slammed the door shut, wiping her tears as she tore off her apron.

Then she went to the fridge, grabbed a birthday cake, and stuck a few candles on top.

She set it in front of me, her voice hoarse. "Go ahead, make a wish. This will be the last birthday Mom spends at home."

I didn't really understand, but she kept going, her words almost tumbling out. "I'm going to divorce your dad. If you had to choose, would you stay with me or him?"

She looked at me hopefully.

But deep down, I wondered—if I chose Mom, would she cave again, unable to leave me behind, and end up stuck with Dad all over?

I kept my voice cold. "Mom, why let something so trivial get to you?

"Dad always gives me everything I want to eat and drink, so obviously, I'll choose him."

Mom went quiet for ages and didn't say a thing.

When I didn't blow out the candles, Mom did it herself.

I watched as she pulled out her phone and called Dad.

It took three tries before Dad finally picked up.

"I'm divorcing you. Eileen is yours. I'll send the divorce papers over—just sign them," she said.

She hung up before Dad could even say a word.

Then she got up, quietly started putting her stuff together, and gave me one last look. She didn't say anything, but I could see the spark in her eyes dying.

I sat there on my chair, saying, "Mom, are you really leaving? Dad's not coming home tonight. Can you stay with me, just for one last night?"

In my last life, Mom was so set on leaving and that was why she got hit by that car later that night.

Just like I thought, she couldn't help herself. Mom nodded, giving in.

After Mom slept, I snuck the note I'd written into the side pocket of her suitcase. It held all my apologies and the truth I'd never had the guts to tell her.

Mom quietly slipped out before sunrise the next morning.

I didn't say a word to stop her.

I pissed Mom off on purpose—I needed her to get mad enough to actually walk away.

It was only by leaving that Mom could finally break free from all the mess and really start living her own life.