Naomi completely lost it. She almost beat me to death. My in-laws also stepped in and convinced her to get a divorce. As such, I was kicked out of the house with nothing but clothes on my back.
I bled out in the street, eventually torn apart by wild dogs.
When I opened my eyes again, I was back on that very same day, the day my daughter accused me.
——
“Daddy, I want Italian Tripe Soup tonight!” My daughter's childish voice rang in my ears.
I froze.
Looking at her innocent face, I saw the glint in her eyes—cold and calculating. The kind of look a cat gives when it's toying with a dying mouse.
And I… was the mouse.
A chill climbed up my spine.
In my last life, I made Italian Tripe Soup just like she asked. That gave her the perfect excuse to hurt herself and blame it on me.
The memory of being torn apart by dogs in the rain still burned in my mind. But what hurt more… was my heart.
She was my daughter. My own flesh and blood. Why did she frame me like that?
“We’ll get you Italian Tripe Soup, sweetie! Grandma will go buy everything you want,” my mother-in-law cooed, hugging her lovingly.