My friend had to go on a business trip, and insisted that I take his wife to her prenatal checkup.
On the way out of the car, she slipped and nearly fell, so I instinctively helped her up.
A few days later, my friend stormed into my house, furious:
"You killed my child! What are you going to do to make it right?"
"My wife told me you were driving distractedly and didn't stop the car properly—otherwise, why would she have miscarried?"
I was completely confused, and before I could explain, he kicked me to the ground.
I hit the edge of the sofa hard, blood pouring from my head.
I begged him to call an ambulance, but he continued to beat me to death.
Then, when I opened my eyes, I was back to the day my friend left for his business trip.
"Ethan, I'll be out of town for a few days, and I’m really worried about my wife being pregnant at home. Can you help me drive her to work and back?"
"Don’t worry, I’ll reimburse you for the gas money while I'm away. I won’t take advantage of you."
Michael Carter's voice echoed in my ears.
Looking at the familiar scene in front of me, I nervously ran my hand over my head.
Thankfully, my head was still smooth and without a scratch.
After a moment, my anger flared, and I clenched my fist and slammed it into his face.
A dull thud echoed as Michael Carter’s face was knocked sideways.
His cheek swelled up, and blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.
In disbelief, he yelled,
"What the hell is wrong with you?!"
"Are you crazy? Are you like a rabid dog, attacking anyone you see?"
Hearing his angry voice, I could easily imagine the pain he felt.
Pain meant this wasn’t a dream.
I had truly been reborn on the day Michael Carter left for his business trip.
In my previous life, I had agreed to his request and had been there for his wife, serving her constantly.
Rain or shine, I always showed up on time for her.
Even when she had her prenatal checkup, I stayed in the car and waited for an entire afternoon.
The day before Michael Carter returned from his trip, his wife slipped on a banana peel right in front of my car and almost fell.
I rushed forward and shielded her with my own body.
She was fine, but I scraped my arm badly.
Despite that, I didn't care and was just relieved that the pregnant woman was unharmed.
Then the next day, she miscarried, and they blamed me for it.
Michael Carter came storming in, enraged, and beat me to death.
No matter how much I begged him, he refused to call an ambulance.
"If it weren’t for you, my child wouldn’t have died!"
"Then you should pay with your life and go serve my poor child in the afterlife!"
Just before dying, I heard those words.
I was filled with rage and bitterness, spat out blood, and died in anger.
Recalling this, I felt my face turn pale and my body waver.
Michael Carter’s concerned voice reached me:
"Why do you look so pale? What happened?"
We had been friends for twenty years, and his temper was always mild.
Even after I punched him, he would still soften and ask if I was okay.
But in the past life, he became a beast, beating me to death.
In my dazed state, his maddened appearance seemed to overlap with the way he looked this time...
I steeled myself and spoke:
"I can't help you."
"Why?"
Looking at Michael Carter's puzzled expression, I continued:
"The few days you’re gone, I’m planning to travel, so I won’t be able to take care of your wife. You should find a caregiver."
Michael Carter furrowed his brow.
"You really want to leave right now? My wife is struggling with the pregnancy, can’t you help us out?"
