I Died Over a Piece of Birthday Cake

Today is my twenty-eighth birthday.

My husband went out of his way to buy my favorite mango cake.

At the restaurant, a little boy from the next table was egged on by his mother to come over and ask for a slice. I was reluctant, but out of basic courtesy, I gave him a piece.

The result was a severe allergic reaction. The boy went into anaphylactic shock and died in the emergency room. His grieving father stormed into my house and stabbed me to death in a fit of absolute rage.

Then I opened my eyes, waking up exactly in the moment before I handed that cake over.

...

1 The rich, savory scent of sizzling beef and hot oil hit my face in thick waves of steam. The off-key melody of a birthday song scraped against my eardrums like nails on a chalkboard, making me wince.

My grip on my chopsticks tightened until my knuckles turned white. This scene was entirely too familiar.

A little boy wearing a bear-patterned vest stood right by our table, singing "Happy Birthday" in a sickeningly sweet, childish voice.

Behind him stood a heavily made-up young woman holding her phone. The camera was pointed dead at us. A calculated, artificial smile stretched across her face. "You sang so beautifully, baby. Hurry up and say thank you to the nice lady."

In my previous life, this was the exact moment my heart melted. I had smiled, cut a generous slice of the mango cream cake, and handed it to him. But mere seconds later, the boy broke out in severe hives. He collapsed on the floor, gasping for air, and never made it out of the resuscitation room.

I can still vividly remember his father charging into my house with bloodshot eyes. As the fruit knife plunged into my chest, I could hear my husband, Carter, panicking in the background, yelling that it was an accident. I bled out on my living room floor, and the boy's father was sentenced to death for first-degree murder.

"Lady, can I please have a piece of your cake..." The boy looked no older than five or six. He reached out with filthy, greasy hands, his eyes glued greedily to the frosting in front of me.

His mother immediately chimed in. "Come on, miss. Look how adorable he is. Just give him a slice. It is not like it is a luxury item. My son is a lucky charm, sharing with him will bring you good fortune."

I took a deep, shaky breath, forcing down the phantom taste of blood rising in my throat. I pulled my lips into a freezing smile. "No."

The air around our table instantly completely froze. The little boy's hand stopped mid-air. A second later, a deafening, ear-piercing shriek erupted from his lungs. "I want cake! I want the cake!"

He threw a massive tantrum, flailing his arms and slamming his hands on our table. The loud clatter of plates and bowls made the customers at the neighboring booths turn their heads in shock.

His mother's face dropped. She lowered her phone and instantly went on the offensive. "What is your problem? It is just a piece of cake. Do you really need to be this petty with a child? You have zero compassion, but I didn't expect you to be this vicious."

"Vicious?" I thought about my gruesome death, remembering how this exact woman had stood by and gloated while I bled out. I put down my chopsticks and leaned forward slightly.

"Number one: I bought this cake with my own money. Giving it away is my privilege, not an obligation."

"Number two: Your kid tries to snatch things he wants. Instead of parenting him, you attack a stranger. Who is the one lacking basic manners here?"

"Number three: If I were truly vicious, I would smash this entire cake right into your face right now, just so you could taste what it feels like to be forced into something."

Whispers began rippling through the restaurant. A few people pulled out their phones to record. The woman's face flushed a deep, humiliating red. Unable to gracefully back down, she literally dropped to the floor and raised her voice to a hysterical pitch. "Everyone, look at this! A grown woman bullying a child on her birthday! She won't even spare a single slice of cake. She is a total child-hater! A woman this bitter is destined to curse her husband and ruin her own family!"

"Oh?" I raised an eyebrow, watching her throw a pathetic fit on the floor.

"Since you are so good at predicting the future, how come you didn't predict your son almost knocking over a boiling grill pan just now? If he had severely burned someone, could you afford the medical bills? Or did you intentionally let your kid cause a scene just to extort money out of me?"

"What the hell are you talking about!" The woman panicked. She scrambled to her feet and lunged forward, trying to shove me.

I glanced at my husband, Carter. He was sitting there like a complete bystander, casually watching the drama unfold. A fierce fire ignited in my chest, and I stood up abruptly.

I have always been tall, and fueled by pure adrenaline, my towering presence instantly intimidated her.

She yanked her outstretched hand back, opting to stand her ground and glare at me with venomous eyes. By this time, a waiter had rushed over to our table.

Seeing the staff arrive, the woman seemed to find her courage again. She immediately started crying to the waiter, claiming I was aggressive and unreasonable. She whined about how I bullied them, had no respect for kids, and refused to share a simple slice of cake. She demanded they kick us out of the restaurant.

The waiter listened to her dramatic sob story and gave me an awkward look. Seeing the cold fury in my eyes, he turned back to the woman, trying to deescalate the situation. "Ma'am, please calm down. Giving away the cake is entirely up to this customer. We cannot force her to share it, and we certainly have no right to kick a paying customer out."

Hearing the waiter's verdict, the woman started wailing even louder. "You are all in on this together! You are just bullying us because my husband isn't here! You are picking on a helpless mother and child!"

While she screamed, the little boy stealthily crept closer. He suddenly reached out, grabbing a massive handful of cake, and shoved his hand toward his mouth. I spotted him instantly. I slapped his hand away hard, knocking the cake onto the floor, and grabbed a napkin to ruthlessly scrub his fingers clean until not a single speck of frosting remained.

Seeing his prize ruined, he burst into fresh tears and yelled, "You ugly bitch!"

"What the hell is going on here!" A tall, broad-shouldered man suddenly charged over, glaring at us. The boy saw him and immediately ran to hug his leg.

The moment I saw his face, a phantom ache flared up in my chest where the knife had pierced me. This was Griffin, the boy's father.

He glared at me, cracking his knuckles threateningly. "You dare bully my wife and kid? Believe me, I will knock you out right now!"

2 "What? You think hitting a woman makes you a tough guy?" I did not take a single step back, staring directly into his furious eyes. "Where were you when your son was throwing a tantrum and trying to steal from a stranger's table? Now you show up to play the big hero? Instead of flexing your muscles, why don't you teach your son some basic manners and teach your wife how to respect boundaries."

Hearing the word "steal," Griffin froze. He looked down at the little boy, who immediately lowered his head in guilt. Griffin turned to his wife and asked what really happened. The woman stammered, refusing to give a straight answer.

It seemed this man was actually capable of reason. In my previous life, it was highly likely that his wife's malicious instigation, combined with the blinding grief of losing his son, had driven him to murder.

The situation was finally deescalating, but my husband Carter suddenly opened his mouth with a horribly snide remark. "Is your family starving so badly that your son has to beg my wife for scraps?"

That single sentence instantly reignited Griffin's rage.

"You son of a bitch, you're asking for it!" Griffin raised his fist, ready to swing at Carter.

"Sir! Please do not fight!" Several waiters rushed over to physically hold him back. The shift manager ran over clutching a menu, plastering a massive, apologetic smile on his face. "I am so incredibly sorry. Your meal is entirely on the house today. Please cool off. Let's not get violent in front of the child, it sets a bad example."

The couple looked like they wanted to keep arguing, but the manager secretly slipped them a hefty discount voucher and gave them a pointed look. Griffin shot me one last vicious glare before grabbing his wife and kid, walking away while muttering curses under his breath.

Once the family was gone, the manager turned to me, bowing apologetically. "I am so sorry, Ms. Song. You are a regular here, and this is the first time something like this has happened. I am comping your table today to make up for the trouble."

Carter and I frequented this place, The Sizzling Grill. The food and service were usually top-notch. I knew this wasn't their fault, so I nodded at the manager. He thanked me profusely and hurried away.

The surrounding customers finally went back to their own meals. My tightly strung nerves slowly relaxed. That brat didn't eat the cake, which meant he wouldn't die. I had successfully dodged my gruesome fate.

Just as I let out a sigh of relief, Carter's face darkened, and he started lecturing me. "You went way overboard just now. It is just a piece of cake. What is the big deal about giving it to a kid? Now everyone in the restaurant is treating us like a joke."

I stared at him in disbelief, my heart feeling like it had been pierced by an icicle. "Did you not see how they treated me? If I gave him the cake and something happened to that child, would you take responsibility?"

"What could possibly happen? It is just dessert." Carter waved his hand impatiently. "You are making a mountain out of a molehill. You have absolutely no empathy. I never knew you were this kind of person."

"Empathy?" I laughed, almost letting a tear slip. "Carter, in my past life, I was literally..."

I swallowed the rest of the sentence. He wouldn't believe me anyway. He would probably just think I had lost my mind.

"What are you laughing at?" Carter frowned deeply. "I am being serious. What you did today was incredibly ugly. Do me a favor and don't tell people you are my wife."

His bystander attitude during the fight and his sudden, deliberate provocation of the boy's father had already filled me with deep suspicion.

I didn't argue. I silently grabbed my purse and stood up. "I am not going home tonight. I am staying at my parents' house for a few days. You need to take a good look in the mirror."

The moment I mentioned going to my parents, Carter's tone shifted from arrogant to impatient. "Harper, can you stop being so dramatic? What are your parents going to think if you run home crying? They are going to assume I am abusing you."

I looked at Carter, a wave of profound disappointment washing over me. In a moment like this, he didn't care about my feelings at all. He only cared about how my parents viewed him!

He walked over and wrapped his arms around me. "Baby, please stop making a fuss. I admit I went a little too far with my words today. Just come home with me. There is a huge promotion opening up at my company, and I really need your dad to put in a good word for me."

So that was his real agenda. Carter and I met at work, and his direct superior was my father. Back when he was intensely pursuing me, my friends warned me that he was only after my family's money and connections. I refused to believe them back then. But looking at his performance today, I had no choice but to reconsider their warnings.

I couldn't let Carter know I was doubting his motives for marrying me. I forced my posture to relax, pretending my anger had faded. "Don't worry, I won't say a word to my parents about what happened. I just haven't been home in a while, and it is my birthday. I want to see them. I will conveniently bring up your promotion to my dad while I am there."

Hearing my promise, Carter kissed the back of my hand. "Thank you, baby. I knew I had the most forgiving wife in the world."

I fought back the urge to vomit and discreetly wiped my hand on my jeans.

When I arrived at my parents' house and pushed the front door open, they were sitting on the couch flipping through my old childhood photo albums. Their faces lit up with pure joy the second they saw me. They hurried over and grabbed my hands. Noticing my silence, my mom asked softly, "Harper, sweetheart, what brings you home so late?"

Seeing their loving, concerned eyes broke whatever dam was left inside me. I threw myself into my mother's arms and sobbed uncontrollably. My mom gently patted my back while my dad paced nervously beside us, rubbing his hands together. "What happened? Did Carter do something to you?"

Choking back my tears, I gave them a filtered version of the restaurant incident, completely omitting the rebirth part. I simply told them Carter failed to support me.

Hearing this, my parents instantly took my side. "You did the right thing, sweetheart! You cannot let people walk all over you! And what is wrong with Carter? Why on earth wouldn't he stand up for his own wife?"

Parents will always be your strongest shield. I remembered when I first announced I was marrying Carter, they strongly opposed it. They felt he wasn't grounded and had too many hidden motives. But they couldn't win against my stubbornness and eventually compromised.

History proves that if your family warns you not to marry someone, you really shouldn't.

3 I was the absolute princess of my family growing up. My dad would move mountains to give me whatever I wanted. I couldn't even begin to imagine how shattered they must have been when they received the news of my brutal murder in my past life.

To cheer me up, my parents suggested we go out for dinner at my favorite spot, The Heritage Steakhouse. I am an absolute fanatic for a good vintage grill. Before I got married, this was my go-to place. I brought Carter here a few times after our wedding, but he claimed he hated the smoky atmosphere, so I eventually stopped going. From then on, we only ever ate at The Sizzling Grill near our apartment.

Once we got a booth, I pulled out my phone to scan the QR code for the menu. By pure muscle memory, I accidentally logged into Carter's loyalty account. We shared the same phone number for log-ins, and for convenience, we never bothered changing the password.

I didn't think much of it since using either account to order food made no difference. After ordering, I wanted to treat my parents, so I sneaked away to the front counter to pay the bill in advance.

While the cashier was ringing me up, she smiled warmly. "Ma'am, your account currently has enough loyalty points to redeem a cash voucher. Would you like to apply it to tonight's bill?"

I felt a twinge of confusion. The last time I came here was during the holidays months ago. Do points really take this long to expire?

I tested the waters and asked, "How much is the voucher worth?"

The cashier checked her screen. "You can redeem a two-hundred-dollar voucher. If you apply it, your total tonight will only be one hundred and thirteen dollars."

Her words exploded in my brain like a bomb. Earning a two-hundred-dollar voucher required at least four thousand loyalty points. There was absolutely no way I had spent that much money here. That meant Carter was the one spending it. Panic rising in my chest, I quickly pulled up the account's transaction history.

The moment the records loaded, my blood ran entirely cold.

Over the past three months, Carter had dined at this steakhouse fifteen times. Every single receipt was for a romantic dinner for two. The timestamps were mostly on weekend afternoons. Those were the exact times he explicitly told me he was stuck at the office doing mandatory overtime.

My fingers trembled as I scrolled down. The most recent transaction was from just two days ago at noon. There was even a custom note attached to the reservation: Celebrating our seventh dating anniversary, please prepare table decorations.

Seventh anniversary.

Carter and I had only been married for five years.

It felt like an invisible, icy hand had clamped down on my heart, squeezing until I couldn't breathe. Was he having an affair this whole time? Who was she? What were they plotting?

"Sweetheart, is everything okay?" My mom noticed something was off and reached out to touch my hand. "Why are your fingers freezing?"

"I am fine, Mom." I shoved the phone deep into my pocket, forcing a composed smile. "The AC in here is just a bit strong. Let's go eat."

My parents could tell I looked pale, so they spent the whole dinner trying to comfort me.

But the premium steak tasted like absolute ash in my mouth. My mind was completely consumed by horrifying images of Carter and a faceless woman.

When it was time to settle the bill, I paid the full price out of my own pocket, refusing to use Carter's account to avoid alerting him.

Back in my childhood bedroom, I tossed and turned, unable to sleep. Suddenly, my phone buzzed with a notification.

It was a video link sent by a friend, accompanied by a viral caption: Watch this heartless woman at The Sizzling Grill! She bullies a child, curses at the mother, and the staff actually takes her side! Who knows who she is sleeping with to get that kind of treatment! Internet, do your thing! Help this poor mother and son get justice! People like her need to be canceled!

The video was exactly the altercation from yesterday. The camera angle proved it was filmed by that woman's phone. It intentionally captured me looking furious and intimidating, while framing her and her bratty kid as pathetic, helpless victims.

My friend asked what was going on. She had seen it on her local feed and immediately forwarded it to me, suspecting I was being framed.

I briefly explained the truth to my friend, then clicked directly into the woman's social media profile.

I angrily opened the comment section, fully prepared to defend myself against a tidal wave of hate. To my surprise, the top comments were actually incredibly rational:

This mom is acting way too fake. Her kid tries to steal food, and she acts like she owns the place?

If I were that girl, I wouldn't give up my cake either. Stop morally kidnapping people.

Did you guys see the dad cracking his knuckles? The girl is lucky she didn't get assaulted, and now the mom is trying to cyberbully her?

The restaurant and the girl in the video should file a police report. This is straight-up defamation!

Of course, there was still a massive horde of brainless trolls hurling abuse at me. Even if I posted a detailed explanation right now, without hard evidence, no one would believe me.

Right then, my phone chimed with a text message from the manager of The Sizzling Grill. Ms. Song, our restaurant does not tolerate malicious slander that harms our reputation. We have high-definition security footage of the entire argument from multiple angles. If you need it, I can send you a copy immediately.

I thanked him profusely and saved the video files to my phone. I needed to use this evidence as a lethal weapon when the time was right.

Just as I was about to lock my screen, a brilliant thought struck me. The Sizzling Grill had security cameras. That meant The Heritage Steakhouse definitely had them too. If I went to the steakhouse tomorrow and asked to see their footage, I could absolutely identify the woman Carter was having an affair with.

First thing the next morning, I rushed to The Heritage Steakhouse and found the floor manager. "Hi, I had dinner here a few days ago, and I think I dropped a very expensive necklace. Is there any way I could check the security cameras to see if it fell near my table?"

The manager asked for the date and table number. I recited the exact details from Carter's transaction history. He immediately escorted me into the security room.

The moment the surveillance footage played on the monitor, my vision went completely black.

In the video, Carter was sitting at a romantic window booth.

And the woman sitting across from him was Toby's mother.