My sister had her eyes on my husband. She secretly dug a used condom out of the trash bag by our front door. When I accidentally caught her in the act, she flew into a hysterical rage and shoved me down the staircase. I died in a pool of my own blood. Then, I opened my eyes. I was back on the exact day she was rummaging through the garbage. This time, I quietly walked away. After all, that little latex wrapper belonged to my father-in-law and his boyfriend. 01 The muffled rustling outside the door was what woke me up. That was the moment I realized I had been given a second chance at life. In my previous life, I had opened the front door to take out the trash, only to catch Brittany elbow-deep in our garbage bag. She pulled out a crumpled, used condom. We stared at each other in dead silence. For a split second, she froze, but then a twisted, unhinged smile crept across her face. “Well, Stella, since you saw everything, you can’t blame me for this.” She lunged at me like a feral animal. “Go to hell! Once you’re dead, Preston is going to be all mine!” I instinctively tried to dodge. But Brittany seized the opening and violently shoved me toward the stairs. The back of my head slammed against the sharp edge of the wooden steps. My consciousness began to bleed out along with the agonizing pain. The very last thing I saw was Brittany standing at the top of the landing, looking down at me with absolute disgust. “Preston is a catch. I just wanted to give him a baby! Is that a crime? Blame your own rotten luck for walking out at the wrong time. You deserve to die!” After my funeral, my mother put on a tearful show. Then she provided a rock-solid fake alibi for my sister. I remember my spirit lingering as my mother sighed at my framed memorial photo. “Brittany just wanted a child, Stella. It’s not like she asked you to get a divorce. Why did you have to be so selfish about it? I’ve already lost you. I can’t lose Brittany too. You forgive me, right?” “Stupid bitch! Was she that desperate for a man? Disgusting.” Brittany’s venomous muttering slipped through the crack of the door, pulling me violently back to the present. This time, I kept my hand far away from the doorknob. Peeking through the peephole, I watched Brittany slip the stolen prize into her pocket and walk away with a triumphant smirk. A slow smile tugged at the corners of my mouth. What my sweet little sister didn’t know was that the trash bag didn’t belong to our household. It belonged to our next-door neighbor, Victor. Victor was my father-in-law’s absolute best friend. He walked with a heavy limp from a youth spent doing hard labor. Because of his bad leg, he often left his trash in front of our door, and I would always take it down for him out of sheer pity. In this life, I genuinely wished my sister the absolute best of luck. I hope she gets pregnant on the first try. 02 The moment Brittany’s footsteps faded down the hall, my father-in-law, Arthur, stepped out of the guest bathroom. He had just finished a shower, his thinning hair still dripping wet. He threw a sideways glance at me. Seeing me still standing in the living room, his bushy eyebrows immediately pulled together in a scowl. “Weren’t you supposed to take the trash out? Why are you just standing there like a statue?” “Work emergency. Just replying to an email.” He rolled his eyes dramatically. “Always an excuse when I ask you to do one simple chore. Hurry up and get that garbage out of here before it attracts rats.” Watching his bizarre sense of urgency, a wild, absurd thought sparked in my brain. Whenever Arthur had free time, he loved going over to Victor’s place to play cards. Every single time he came back from those long card games, he looked completely drained, heavily sweating, and the very first thing he did was hit the shower. I had never thought much of it before. But now, the puzzle pieces were snapping into place. Were they actually playing cards? Who exactly used the latex wrapper in that trash bag? Victor lived entirely alone. He didn’t date, didn’t have female visitors, and kept to himself. The only person who visited him several times a week was Arthur. Could it be? My eyes widened in shock, accidentally meeting Arthur’s impatient glare. His face darkened with anger. “What the hell are you staring at? Move it!” 03 The very next afternoon. The minute my mother-in-law, Martha, grabbed her gym bag and headed out to her senior Zumba class, Arthur grabbed a six-pack of imported craft beer and hurried next door. I quietly slipped out and followed him. Arthur punched in the keypad code to Victor’s apartment with practiced ease. I pressed my ear flat against the heavy oak door for a long time. There was no sound of cards shuffling. No casual banter or laughter. Just faint, muffled groans. It sounded like someone trying desperately to hold back, only to fail miserably. A cold shiver crawled straight down my spine. That night in bed, I cautiously tested the waters with my husband, Preston. “Hey, have you ever thought that… your dad and Victor are a little too close?” He was lying flat on his back, endlessly scrolling through TikTok, not even bothering to look up. “They’ve been best buddies for decades. Grew up in the same dirt-poor town. It’s called loyalty, Stella.” “But every time your dad goes over there, he stays for hours on end. Isn’t that a bit excessive?” Preston finally peeled his eyes away from his glowing screen. His forehead creased with intense annoyance. “What exactly are you trying to say?” I bit the inside of my cheek, taking the plunge. “Victor hasn’t had a woman in his life for as long as I’ve known him. You don’t think he might be into m…” “Stella! What the hell is wrong with your sick mind?” “I saw something in his trash bag today…” “Shut your mouth!” Preston cut me off sharply, his tone dropping to freezing temperatures. “If I ever hear you disrespecting Victor like that again, we are going to have a serious problem.” I swallowed the rest of my words. Preston and Victor had a deep bond. When Preston was a kid and his parents were working double shifts to keep the lights on, he basically lived at Victor’s house. In Preston’s eyes, Victor was practically a second father, maybe even more respected than Arthur himself. Telling him my theories now would only backfire. Whatever. I would wait until I had undeniable proof. 04 Over the next few weeks, I racked my brain trying to gather evidence of Arthur and Victor’s secret affair. But these two old men were incredibly paranoid. The door was always deadbolted. I pressed my ear against the wood several times. Aside from the occasional choked gasp, it was impossible to record anything solid. The trash bags, however, told a different story. Every few days, a fresh batch of used wrappers would magically appear. Brittany was putting in the work, too. Terrified that she wouldn’t catch on the first try, she sneaked over multiple nights a week to raid the garbage. Honestly, I was praying for her success even harder than she was. 05 A month later, we hosted a birthday dinner for Martha. Arthur invited Victor. Martha invited Brittany. The whole cast of characters was gathered under one roof. My gut told me tonight’s dinner was going to be a blockbuster show. Brittany walked in wearing a skin-tight white cocktail dress. Her waistline was visibly thicker, the fabric stretching uncomfortably across her midsection. According to my mother, Brittany had been dealing with terrible nausea lately, throwing up almost everything she ate. My mom had been blowing up the family group chat, demanding I take time off work to escort my sister to a doctor. She threw around lines like, “Your baby sister is sick, and you have a duty to take care of her.” I left her on read. So she sent me a dozen back-to-back voice memos. Every single one was a tearful rant calling me cold-blooded and selfish. I raised an eyebrow as Brittany took a seat. Did she actually hit the jackpot? My gaze naturally drifted over to Arthur and Victor. They were sitting on the living room sofa, a chessboard set up between them. Knee touching knee. Shoulder brushing against shoulder. As Arthur reached out to move a pawn, his fingers delicately grazed the back of Victor’s hand. They shared a brief, loaded look. Both of them wore faint, secretive smiles that spoke volumes. I fell into deep thought, trying not to laugh out loud. Who exactly was the father of Brittany’s miracle baby? 06 Brittany pulled a velvet box from her designer knock-off purse and slid a heavy gold bracelet onto Martha’s wrist. “Happy birthday, Martha! I spent weeks picking this out. Do you love it?” Martha’s wrinkled face bloomed with absolute delight. “Oh, Brittany, sweetheart, you didn’t have to spend so much! This must have cost a fortune. You work so hard for your money, you shouldn’t be spoiling an old woman like me.” Her words were humble, but she immediately held her arm up to catch the living room lighting. I stared at that gold bracelet for exactly two seconds. Wow. That was the exact same bracelet I had bought for my own mother last month. When Mom opened my gift, she had carelessly tossed it onto the coffee table without a second glance. But when Brittany gifted her a cheap, ten-dollar acrylic scarf from a discount bin, my mom wore it around her neck the very next day. In the middle of a sweltering summer heatwave. She paraded it around the neighborhood, bragging to anyone who would listen. “My youngest made this just for me. It’s the thought that counts. Unlike my eldest, who just throws money at problems to shut me up.” One of her friends actually tried to defend me. “Why wear a heavy scarf in July? Gold is a great investment.” My mom’s face had instantly turned sour. “You people don’t understand love! The weather is getting breezy at night anyway.” She did wear it at night. And ended up with a massive heat rash across her collarbone. “As long as you love it, Martha!” Brittany’s sugary voice snapped me back to the present. “So, Martha, what did my big sister buy you?” Martha shot me a side-eye loaded with venom. “I wouldn’t dare expect luxury from her. All I did was ask when she plans on giving me a grandchild, and she’s been giving me attitude all week.” Saying that, Martha playfully squeezed Brittany’s hip. She offered a knowing, calculating smile. “You know, Brittany, you look like you’ve put on a little healthy weight. You’ve got the perfect figure for having babies. If only you were my daughter-in-law.” Brittany immediately shot a hopeful glance at Preston, her cheeks flushing crimson. Too bad Preston wasn’t even looking at her. He was entirely fixated on Arthur and Victor’s chess game. Martha noticed me standing there and her smile vanished. “What are you staring at? Go check on the roast! Do you expect me to serve you on my own birthday?” I gave a tight smile and turned toward the kitchen. Behind me, Martha’s cackling continued. “Brittany, honey, don’t you think this bracelet needs a matching necklace to really pop?” Brittany hesitated for a fraction of a second. “Um… sure! We can go shopping at the mall next week. See if we find something you like.” “Oh, I couldn’t possibly ask that of you.” “It’s nothing, really. Whatever makes you happy.” “Well, thank you in advance, sweetheart.” I grinned wildly to myself as I checked the oven. Brittany was chronically unemployed, living off my mother. Her bank account was emptier than her head. She was going to bleed cash for this little stunt. 07 By the time I carried the final platter of roasted vegetables to the dining table, Brittany had already claimed the seat directly next to Preston. She tilted her head, her eyes flashing with pure arrogance. “Stella, Martha told me to sit here. You don’t mind, do you?” I smiled warmly, saying absolutely nothing. I dragged a spare folding chair from the corner and quietly sat down right next to her. The folding chair was significantly lower than the dining chairs. It felt like I was crouching. But the low angle gave me a crystal-clear view of the real action happening under the tablecloth. Brittany slipped off her high heel and stretched her foot toward Preston’s direction. First, she lightly brushed his calf. When Preston didn’t pull away, she grew bolder. Her toes began to slowly, deliberately trail up the inside of his leg. Suddenly, Preston jolted. His hand, holding a glass of water, froze in mid-air. His ears turned violently red in a matter of seconds. I narrowed my eyes. This reaction was wrong. Preston was notoriously germaphobic and had severe anxiety around women. Aside from me and his mother, if a woman even bumped into him at the grocery store, he would freeze up and break into a cold sweat. But Brittany’s foot was practically in his lap, and not only was he not dodging, he was blushing? Had he been hooking up with Brittany this whole time? But that didn’t make any sense. If they were already sleeping together, why on earth would she need to repeatedly dig through a biohazard trash bag for used condoms? Brittany’s lips curled into a smug smile. She picked up a prime cut of roast beef and placed it on Preston’s plate. “Eat up, Preston. You’ve been looking so overworked lately.” Preston stared blankly at the meat on his plate. His brow furrowed deeply. With a swift flick of his fork, he shoved the beef right off his plate onto the table. The movement was brutal and efficient. Not a single second of hesitation. Brittany’s smile instantly shattered. “Preston, what are you doing?” “Sorry. I don’t eat food other people touch.” Preston’s face was completely devoid of emotion. He didn’t even grant her a glance. Brittany’s lower lip trembled, tears rapidly pooling in her oversized eyes. Martha scrambled to defuse the tension, using her own fork to scoop up the discarded meat and shove it into her mouth. “If he won’t eat it, I will! Anything Brittany serves is delicious!” Brittany bit her lip, desperately trying to keep the tears from falling. But under the table, her foot tensed up with a vengeance. This time, she aimed straight for the prize. “Ugh… ah!” A strangled, breathy gasp tore out of Preston’s throat. It ended on an embarrassingly high note, sounding incredibly fragile and flushed. Every single person at the table dropped their forks. 08 Martha stared at Preston in utter panic. “Honey, what’s wrong?” Preston’s face was the color of a ripe tomato. But his eyes weren’t on Brittany. They were locked onto Victor, who was sitting across the table. The look in Preston’s eyes was chaotic. There was sheer panic, desperate pleading, and a bizarre hint of… shyness. He looked like a blushing bride caught in a scandal. My brain felt like it was short-circuiting. No way. There was absolutely no way. Victor stared right back at him, his voice dripping with exaggerated concern. “What is it, kiddo? Are you feeling sick?” Preston rapidly broke eye contact, staring intensely at his empty plate. His voice was muffled. “Nothing. Just bit my tongue.” Brittany’s lips formed a vicious smirk. Under the table, her foot didn’t stop. In fact, she doubled down, moving faster, clearly punishing him for rejecting her roast beef in front of everyone. Preston was squirming in his chair. He bit down brutally on his lower lip. The veins on his forehead popped, and beads of sweat dripped down his temples. Yet, he still didn’t pull away. Instead, his body subconsciously leaned further in. Right at that moment, Victor set down his beer and stood up. He pulled a few napkins from the dispenser and held them out to Preston. “You’re sweating buckets, Preston. Is it too warm in here for you?” Seeing Victor suddenly loom over him, Preston’s pupils dilated in sheer terror. He instinctively glanced down under the table. Brittany’s foot was still working its magic. Preston’s face went from flushed red, to chalk white, to a sickly shade of green. “Jesus! It’s YOU?” He shot up out of his chair like he had been electrocuted. “I need to use the bathroom.” Preston practically sprinted out of the dining room. Brittany sat frozen in her seat, her face burning with utter humiliation. I calmly picked up my wine glass, took a delicate sip, and spoke in a syrupy sweet tone. “Don’t take it personally, Brittany. My husband has terrible germaphobia. He hates being touched by women. Make sure you keep your feet to yourself next time, so you don’t accidentally bump into him again.” I placed heavy emphasis on the word accidentally. Brittany shot me a look of pure, venomous hatred.
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