In the delivery room, my husband grinned as he held our daughter.
“Yueyue, you’re awake. This is our daughter.”
Looking at the baby in her swaddling, I clenched my fists, trembling all over.
I knew that when my daughter grew up, she would kill me.
This was my third time being reborn. In my previous two lives, I had died at my daughter’s hands.
She was born bad, an ungrateful wretch who could never be tamed.
I raised my hand high.
“Yueyue, what are you doing?” My husband looked at me in alarm.
Smack!
I slapped my husband across the face.
A father shouldn’t leave all of his daughter’s upbringing to someone else.
In my previous two lives, I had constantly questioned my own parenting.
In this life, I finally understood: raising a child isn’t my responsibility alone.
Even if my daughter kills me again, I’m taking my husband down with me.
