A few days later, Jessie, with her hands still bandaged, took me to meet the match.

The man waiting wasn’t a stranger.

It was Gary Allen, the very man who had beaten me to death in my past life.

We had gone to high school together. He was the epitome of a spoiled rich kid, arrogant and unbearable.

His family donated a building to the school, so he strutted around like he owned the place.

But even someone as obnoxious as him had a weakness – a girlfriend. He dated the school’s beauty queen, though their relationship was tumultuous, filled with constant arguments.

Once, while I was cleaning the rooftop, I witnessed his girlfriend slapping him and threatening to break up.

Gary caught sight of me staring, mouth agape, and shot me a death glare, warning me that if I said a word, I’d regret it.

Later, while getting water during a break, I accidentally bumped into him.

Before I knew what was happening, Gary kicked me in the stomach, sending me tumbling down the stairs. He didn’t even stop, just kept chasing after his girlfriend.

I curled up on the ground, clutching my stomach, when two male classmates dragged me to the boys’ bathroom.

Gary, leaning against the sink with a lit cigarette, barked, “You made my girlfriend think I was cheating. You’ll pay for that.”

He grabbed my hair, holding the cigarette dangerously close to my face, my long hair catching fire instantly.

I begged him to stop, but it only seemed to excite him more. Just as the flames licked at my face, he doused me with cold water from the sink, leaving me shivering and soaked.

This happened several times, each incident worse than the last.

Whenever he was in a bad mood, he would take it out on me, torturing me to make himself feel better.

When he wasn’t locking me in classrooms overnight, he was spreading vile rumors about me.

The worst was when he and a group of boys stripped me and took photos. My father had to call the police to break down the door and rescue me.

The incident was covered up, but from then on, I was terrified of him.

His torment lasted for over a year.

I was forced to transfer schools to escape his wrath, and only then did I begin to recover from the trauma.

Thinking about the humiliation I suffered in my past life, my eyes welled up with tears.

And the man sitting in front of me was the one responsible for it all.

He tapped his fingers lightly on the table and greeted me with a smirk, “Hey there, long time no see! Guess we’re meant to run into each other again.”

His disgusting voice sent chills down my spine.

The scene from the night of my death flashed through my mind.

At that time, I was three months pregnant, with my body covered in bruises from his relentless beatings.

I lay curled on the ground, pleading with him to stop:

“Gary, you can hurt me all you want, but even a beast wouldn’t harm its own child. The baby is innocent – how can you do this? Please, stop!”

But he was blinded by rage, his fists raining down on me like a violent storm.

He snarled at me, “Maggie, you think you’re fit to have my child? If it weren’t for you, Samantha wouldn’t have left me to go abroad, and she wouldn’t be marrying someone else tonight! You ruined my love, and now you’re going to pay with your life!”

So that’s how it was.

The woman he loved was marrying someone else tonight, and he wanted to take my life in revenge.

I was so tired, so exhausted from living.

Whether I lived or died, it didn’t matter anymore. I spat out a mouthful of blood and gave Gary a bitter smile.

“Do you know that you’re a psychopath? No sane woman would ever be with you. Samantha never loved you; she just used what happened with me as an excuse to leave you. What good is all your money? You’ll never win a woman’s love!”

His eyes widened in disbelief as he stared at me.

“Fine. Let’s see if you can last until tomorrow!”

He grabbed a steel rod and, with all his strength, brought it down on my abdomen...