In over twenty years of being unwanted and pushed around, that was the first time I ever felt warmth from another person.
We kept running into each other after that, and gradually grew close.
The day he confessed his feelings, I came clean about my family first, fully expecting Giles to be put off.
But he just smiled, so gently, and pulled me into his arms like I was something precious.
“From now on, I'm your family. I'll protect you forever.”
Five years together. He remembered every birthday, always had a gift ready. He tracked my cycle and had hot cocoa waiting when cramps hit. When I got sick, he stayed by my side around the clock.
Every friend I had envied me for landing such a good boyfriend.
When the truth came out in my last life, I racked my brain trying to understand how a man who loved me that much could just change overnight.
Now I understood. He hadn't changed. He'd just been that good at pretending.
A message popped up on my phone：
“They went to The Grand Royale Casino. Can't get video or photos in there.”
I replied with a quick "got it," then turned around and dialed another number.
“I need you to do something for me.”
Over the next few months, Tracey would text me now and then to check in. All talk, no action.
Meanwhile, I built a carefully curated pregnant-mom persona on social media, visible only to the three of them.
【Can't skip meals no matter how bad I feel.】
【My clothes are two sizes too big now.】
Paired with pregnancy-tip articles shared from parenting blogs, the illusion was airtight.
And of course, late at night every so often, I'd post a few melancholy lines dripping with grief.
Seeing me drowning in the pain of losing my husband, devoted to nothing but protecting my unborn child, the three of them dropped their guard completely.
At the five-month mark, Evan and Tracey showed up at my door again.
I spotted them through the peephole, pulled the pre-made fake baby bump from the closet and strapped it on, then did my makeup to look drawn and exhausted.
“Oh, Mr. and Mrs. Simmons, what brings you here?”
The two of them settled onto the couch, weariness and sorrow etched across their faces.
“Sweetheart, we know pregnancy's been hard on you, and the last thing we wanted was to bother you. But we've got nowhere else to turn.”
Tracey's eyes went red, her voice catching.
“After Giles passed, the whole household just collapsed. His father and I have been dealing with our own health problems. The reason we haven't visited is we've been in and out of the hospital, and we didn't want you catching anything.”
Evan let out a long, heavy sigh before speaking：
“There's still a debt hanging over us. The collectors have been hounding us so bad we've been hiding from place to place. It weighs on us something awful. We just came today to talk, that's all.”
Neither of them said the word "money" once, yet they kept the grievances coming, every inch the suffering elders.
They'd pulled this exact routine in my last life, and every single time I'd caved, handing over my savings down to the last dollar, terrified of letting them suffer even a little.
By the time they finally showed their true colors, I couldn't even afford a lawyer.
Not this time.
“Mr. and Mrs. Simmons, I understand things are tough. But I'm pregnant right now. Between checkups, supplements, and the delivery itself, everything costs money. I really don't have anything to spare.”
“Why don't you sell the house you're living in? Get through this rough patch first.”
The words barely left my mouth before Tracey shot to her feet：
“We can't sell it! Otherwise when Giles comes back he'll need somewhere to—”
The second she realized what she'd said, she clapped a hand over her eyes and scrambled to cover：
“It's a tradition where we're from. They say the dead remember where home is. If we move, Giles's spirit won't be able to find his way back.”
Evan jumped in right behind her：
“We're saving that house for the baby in your belly. A child needs a roof over their head to stand on solid ground. It'll make things easier for you down the line, too.”
They wore their best "thinking of you" faces. All I felt was the urge to laugh.
