To save my brother, my mom forced me into early labor, drugging me to have my baby born prematurely. The moment my son was born, he was used in a bone marrow transplant for my brother. The surgery left my son with a fatal infection, and he didn’t survive. I was devastated, and in my grief, I was hit by a car. After I died, my husband, unable to bear it, jumped off a bridge with our young daughter in his arms. My family was so wrapped up in my brother’s recovery that they thought my death was justified. Even at my graveside, my mom just kept saying: “Now that you’re gone, don’t forget to bless your brother. That’s what a real sister would do.” Coming back for a second chance, I’ll finally see if my mom has it in her to act like a mother. When I woke up in the hospital, Jack was by my side. “How could you keep something as big as being pregnant from me?” he asked. It took me a moment to process everything. Then, suddenly, it hit me—I was back. I’d been given another chance. And I was right at the moment I’d just discovered I was pregnant. Jack took out his phone, still upset. “I’m calling Mom. She should know.” I grabbed his phone from him. “Jack, what if we don’t go through with this?” Seeing him again choked me up. The events of the last life washed over me; I felt the pain of all I’d put him through. Jack softened, surprised at my suggestion. “Megan, it was wrong of me to get so upset that day. You’re my wife. I love you, and I love this baby too. But I also won’t stand by while someone else suffers if we can help.” His caring words hit me hard. In my last life, Jack worried deeply after our difficult first pregnancy. He even planned to get a vasectomy so I’d never have to suffer through a second birth. But then, to save my brother, I went behind his back and got pregnant again. We had a terrible fight, and I accused him of having no heart. In the end, he reluctantly went along with it. As soon as I knew I was pregnant, I told my mom, unwittingly triggering the tragedy to follow. When her call came, she jumped right to it, her voice excited, asking if I was expecting. I answered bluntly, “No.” “Megan, you have to hurry,” she snapped. “You know how bad things are with your brother. Be a good sister.” Her familiar refrain hit me hard. “Mom, I don’t make all the decisions around here. If you’re that concerned, there are other ways.” And I hung up. Jack still looked puzzled, but I just said, “If you want our family to stay safe and sound, you’ll trust me on this.” Two months ago, Billy had been diagnosed with leukemia. The only way to save him was a bone marrow transplant, but none of our family members matched. My mom’s solution? Get me pregnant with another baby for Billy. In my last life, I had fought for months to deliver a second child, risking my own life. My son was just a baby, yet they rushed him into a transplant. Billy recovered, but my son was too young, too fragile, and the infection was too strong. He died soon after. The family celebrated Billy’s recovery, but I fell into despair. Overcome by grief, I was struck by a car and died. My husband, heartbroken and desperate, threw himself off a bridge with our daughter. Our entire family gone in a flash. And my mom and Billy? They went on, living luxuriously with the money Jack and I had left behind. This time, I just wanted to be a good wife and mother. Once she learned I wasn’t pregnant, my mom was visibly disappointed. I took her hand and told her, “Even if I have another child, there’s no guarantee he’ll be a match for Billy.” Of course, in my last life, I knew my son’s marrow would match Billy’s perfectly. My mom frowned, “Stop talking like that.” “I have another idea that could improve Billy’s odds,” I told her. Her face brightened. “What’s that?” “You could have a baby. That way, whichever child matches best could donate the marrow.” She paled and glanced awkwardly at Jack. With a forced smile, she replied, “Don’t you think people would laugh at me for having a baby at my age?” “Mom, what’s a little gossip compared to saving Billy? You’re his mother, after all. Shouldn’t you act like it?” My mom stared at me in disbelief. I had always done exactly what she wanted, never defying her before. I could tell she was shocked I’d even suggested such a thing. After all, she had never once thought to consider bearing a child to save her son. No, she had pushed that burden on me instead.
After a brief silence, my mom got serious and said, “I’ll need to discuss this with your dad. You know how his job is. When Billy was younger, we had to pay off so many fines because of him.” Then, almost to herself, she muttered under her breath, “If it wasn’t for you, he wouldn’t have had to hide out like he did, barely getting enough nutrition to grow up healthy. You set him back, that’s what.” “Oh, times have changed, Mom,” I replied, sarcasm barely contained. “Who knows, if you two had a second child, Dad might get a retirement promotion for answering the call. Wouldn’t that be something?” That shut her up. I saw the look in her eye, as if she’d rip me to shreds if she could. She’d always had that glint of anger toward me. Even my name was an unlucky omen to her. Everything bad she pinned on me; Billy’s problems, the hardships. And if I were gone, she’d say my death was just “right.” In less than three days, she showed up at my place. I was sipping some tea when she barged in, demanding to know what I was drinking. “Jack’s friend brought back some saffron tea from a trip out West. Supposedly, it’s worth a hundred dollars a gram.” My mom, ever the opportunist, immediately wanted me to set some aside for her to take home. That was just what I was hoping for, considering I’d saved it just for her. She then handed me a paper. “I haven’t been feeling well, so I went to the doctor. They told me I’m in menopause.” I glanced at it. Just as I thought—a cheap excuse to get out of my suggestion. I knew she was bluffing. Just last week, I’d seen a box of tampons in her bathroom. What, did she use them for a nosebleed? “Well, Mom, you hang on to that.” I handed her the paper back. “While you’re at it, take a look at this one. It’s not that I don’t want to be a good sister, but I do have some concerns.” She handed me the proof of her supposed diagnosis, but I had my own, showing I had a small tumor. Harmless for now, but it would interfere with any chance of helping Billy. Mom called us over for dinner that night, saying there’d be “company.” The so-called guest was none other than Ruby Malone. In my last life, Ruby was nothing more than my mom’s pawn. She was a simple country girl, barely twenty and utterly clueless. She had a chunky gold necklace around her neck that looked so out of place on her—proof enough my mom was willing to spend on her if it served her plans. “Jack, this is your cousin Ruby,” she said, putting on a pleasant voice. “She’s hoping to find a job in the city, so I thought she could help out at the factory.” Jack glanced at me, knowing I usually made the decisions. Our factory was full of machines and heavy labor, not a place for a young girl with no experience. In the last life, Ruby started at the factory under the guise of learning the job, but she spent more time getting close to Jack. He tried to warn me, but I dismissed him. After I died, she drugged him into a marriage, stole everything, and left him so broken he took his own life. This time, I stepped in, blocking her view of Jack. “Jack’s shop is all machine work—heavy and greasy. Not exactly a girl’s place. Dad, didn’t you say your office needed a part-timer? She could help out with some clerical work. Sounds much better, and more respectable.” I turned to my dad. “Didn’t you mention something about needing a dependable temp? It’d look great on her resume if she wants to marry someday.” Ruby’s face went pale. She shrank back and cried, “Auntie, I don’t want to end up with a broken arm! I need to work and help my parents someday!” “Oh, that’s rare,” my mom interjected hastily. “It’s not like it happens all the time.” “Alright, let’s start her on Monday, then,” my dad said, interrupting. Since he’d spoken, my mom had no choice but to stay quiet. But I knew she wouldn’t let it go that easily.
Later, my daughter’s preschool called, saying her stomach hurt. I rushed over and found she was dehydrated. She explained, “Nana picked me up for lunch, but I just ate ten popsicles. Next time, I’ll save them for the lady.” “Which lady?” I knew there was no “lady” at my mom’s house. It had to be Ruby. Why was she at my mom’s? What were they planning? I tried calling Jack, but his phone was out of reach. I headed to my mom’s house, and when I walked in, there she was, comfortably sprawled on the couch with a smug look, cracking sunflower seeds. “Oh, you’re here already?” she said, a note of surprise in her voice. I ignored her, headed straight to the guest room, and kicked the door open. There was Ruby, straddling Jack, practically naked, tugging at his shirt. The whole thing was exactly what it looked like. I glared at my mom. She didn’t bother trying to explain, her expression indifferent. “Oh, what are you two up to in here?” she asked, feigning innocence. I yanked Jack up. He was unconscious, but there was no way he’d gotten this drunk on his own. I slapped his face a few times, but he didn’t respond. Then I saw the glass of water on the nightstand. Before I could reach it, my mom snatched it and spilled it on the floor, muttering, “Just some honey water for his hangover!” “Mom, what are you hiding? I didn’t even ask what was in it.” If my guess was right, that water was laced with a sleeping pill. This playbook was too familiar; the only difference was how desperate they’d gotten this time. My mom turned on Ruby, scolding her, “I told you to bring your brother-in-law water, not do something so embarrassing! Now get out!” “Auntie, but didn’t you just…” Ruby started, her voice shaking. “Just what? Get out now!” my mom barked. Then she pulled me aside, softening her tone. “Megan, be grateful it was Ruby. This didn’t get out of hand, thank goodness. And remember, Jack’s a man; even if he doesn’t say it, he wants a son. I had someone check, and a second child for you would definitely be a boy.” “No son,” she continued, “and you might as well be invisible to Jack. Other women would be thrilled to give him a son.” In the last life, I’d believed my mom’s twisted reasoning, and I even transferred part of our joint savings into her name. Then I delivered the baby prematurely to rush it into a transplant for Billy. My son was too weak to fight the infection, and I lost him too soon. I faked agreement, taking my mom’s hand. “Mom, I know you only want the best for us. I’d love to have a son, too.” She seemed pleased, but I had no intention of repeating past mistakes. I used a cool washcloth to rouse Jack, and we went home together as a family. Jack kept glancing back at me, puzzled, saying, “I feel like something was off today. I couldn’t even bring myself to drink with Ruby there.” I had to smile at that. Jack was as steady as ever, and I knew my mom was behind this—feeding my daughter popsicles to distract me, trying to drive a wedge between us, and pushing me to have a second child to use as “insurance.” But this time, I wasn’t about to fall into her trap. As we walked home, Jack asked thoughtfully, “Why’s your dad been working so late?” At that moment, in the shadows of the streetlights, I spotted Ruby sneaking out from our house. “Just wait,” I murmured with a smile. “Soon, Dad won’t be the only one putting in extra hours.”
Ruby wasn’t going anywhere. She’d officially moved into my mom’s house. My mom tried to act as if she were doing me a favor, saying, “It’s good she has a place to stay; besides, she’s practically free help around here.” Seeing her so smug, I just let it slide. “Don’t worry, Mom. I don’t mind.” It wouldn’t be long until she did. When my dad came home from work, Ruby practically ran to take his coat, even setting his slippers down at his feet. My mom, watching with a sneer, muttered to herself, “Might as well be a maid with a servant’s heart.” Then, flashing a grin at Ruby, she said, “Look at her, so good with people.” If only she knew just how “good” Ruby was with Dad. Ruby took over the kitchen that evening, serving my dad every dish like she’d made it just for him. My dad, with his high blood sugar, needed to avoid certain foods, but she prepared everything as if it was all for his indulgence. I “accidentally” dropped my fork, bending down just enough to see Ruby’s foot tracing along my dad’s leg. As we ate, my mom excused herself, and Ruby turned her gaze to my dad, her eyes heavy with suggestion. After dinner, my mom happily cracked sunflower seeds on the couch while Ruby did all the chores. When my dad stepped out for his usual evening walk, Ruby eagerly took out the trash to follow him. Watching her, my mom yawned and said to me, “By the way, that tea I got from you really improved my sleep. I was out like a log from seven in the evening till ten the next morning. Ruby’s so helpful; she did all the housework while I slept!” I laughed to myself. She wasn’t lying; Ruby really had “done” everything. Satisfied with her newly rested state, my mom turned to me. “Megan, don’t forget your brother is still waiting in the hospital.” From the way she beamed, you’d think Billy’s illness was a distant memory. I almost wanted to remind her that he was still in the ICU. “Don’t worry, Mom,” I assured her. “Jack and I are working on it.” With that, my mom left for the night, but as she stood, I noticed a dark red stain on her pants. “Mom, are you on your period?” I asked, genuinely surprised. She spun around, alarmed, finally spotting the blood on her skirt. That “saffron tea” was working its magic, like a tonic restoring the very life she’d tried to pretend was gone. Then, out the corner of my eye, I caught Ruby slipping her hand under her collar, pulling it higher to cover some fresh-looking bruises around her neck. And my dad? He walked away flushed, with an extra bounce in his step. Turning to my mom, I squeezed her hand. “You said you’d hit menopause, right? Maybe if you’re blessed enough to carry a child, it’ll be just the one to save Billy.” My mom shook her head, uneasy. “Megan, it’s not happening. I’m way past that stage.” My dad didn’t say a word as he walked to his study, Ruby following close behind with a cup of tea. Taking my mom aside, I whispered, “Mom, as your daughter, let me just say…some things are worth paying attention to.” A month later, as Jack and I strolled through the mall, my mom called, furious, her voice like a shriek through the receiver. “Megan, get home now! Bring Jack too!” “You little tramp!” she screamed. “You absolute disgrace!” The expletives were flying, and Jack looked at me, alarmed. “We need to get back. Something must be wrong.” I held up a few shirts to try on. “Don’t worry. We’re right on time. Let’s see how this unfolds.”
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