She's Pregnant With My Kids Again

On the bus, I gave up my seat to a fifty-year-old pregnant woman. She gave me a sweet smile, Thank you, darling.

I didn't think much of it, but the very next day, she became my new coworker.

She'd follow me around every day, calling me her husband, claiming our love child was about to be born.

My coworkers laughed at me, insisting I take responsibility, but I just figured she had some mental issues and still didn't take it seriously.

But three months later, her quadruplets were born,

And downstairs from the company, she shoved a paternity test in my face, showing a 99.9% match between me and her four babies.

"Darling, just come home and live a good life with me."

My millionaire girlfriend slapped me, then broke up with me on the spot.

Later, pressured by public opinion, I married her and lived a life of utter misery.

I toiled day and night to support four children.

The night those four kids went to college, that woman plunged a knife into my chest and coldly whispered:

"You'll never know why I mysteriously got pregnant with your children."

I opened my eyes again and found myself reborn.

Reborn to the day I first met her on that bus.

I opened my eyes again, and that towering, swollen belly, looking like it would burst any second, was right in front of me.

Padilla's greasy, bloated face stared at me intently.

I immediately realized I'd been reborn, and a flood of painful memories washed over me.

It was this very day in my previous life that I gave up my seat to Padilla, a woman I'd never met, and she clung to me like a phantom. Not only did she become my coworker,

But I also ended up as the father of her quadruplets.

Even as she stabbed me to death, I was still racking my brain, trying to figure out why.

I'd never had any physical relationship with Padilla. How could her children possibly be mine?

"Haven't you seen that pregnant lady standing next to you for ages? Hurry up and offer her your seat."

The urging voice of Mrs. Davies, a neighbor, rang out beside me.

I looked around and immediately noticed something odd.

There were plenty of empty seats in front, behind, and beside me, but Padilla ignored them all, her gaze fixed solely on my spot.

I looked at Padilla's large backside, a thought forming in my mind: Could it be that because she sat on the seat I'd just vacated, some sort of contact was made between us?

And that's how her children became related to me?

Just thinking about it made my heart pound.

I felt completely drained, the fear of those four ugly, fat children calling me "Daddy" in my previous life constantly assailing my brain.

I even felt like I might slide off the seat any second.

No, I can't let any doubt go unchecked before the real reason is revealed.

As Padilla's gaze grew even more sticky and persistent,

I leaned back firmly in my seat, clearly signaling I had no intention of giving it up.

I closed my eyes, trying to pretend to be asleep, but Mrs. Davies's voice rang out again.

"That pregnant lady's been standing next to you for ages, what are you playing dumb for? Give up your seat already!"

Immediately after, Mr. Henderson, an old man nearby, also started scolding me, "You're a grown man, where's your manners? Is your backside really that heavy?"

I kept my eyes closed, trying my best to ignore the voices.

It was the same in my previous life. I hadn't slept well the night before and had wanted to catch a quick nap on the bus.

But because Padilla kept standing next to me, combined with everyone's finger-pointing, I had no choice but to give up my seat.

But with the lessons of the previous life, this time, unless they dragged me off, I would absolutely not give up my seat.

The accusations grew too loud, so I opened my eyes and angrily retorted:

"First off, there are tons of empty seats on this bus, I don't need to give up mine."

"And I'm not even in a priority seat for the elderly or disabled, so why should I give it up? If you're so keen on doing good deeds, why don't you give up your seat?"

But after I said that, Padilla actually spoke.

"I really don't feel well and can't walk. How about you get up and help me to a seat in the back?"

But I immediately noticed a flicker of malice in the eyes of the seemingly pitiful Padilla.

I swallowed hard. Mr. Henderson's voice spoke up again, "The pregnant lady isn't arguing with you, so just get up and help her to a seat in the back."

No, absolutely not. I can't get up.

My intuition grew stronger.

All of Padilla's strange actions seemed to be geared towards one thing: getting me off this seat.

"I'm not getting up. If you're so eager to help, you get up."

As soon as I spoke, a burly man rushed over, "Are you moving or not?"

This guy's arms were thicker than my legs.

Around us, a few more people sparsely stood up.

"Just move! Bullying an old person isn't enough, now we can't let you bully a pregnant woman too!"

But I wasn't scared. "Damn it, I'm not moving!"

I couldn't help but curse. These people were acting like bots.

But then, the man rubbed his hands together, then grabbed both my arms, looking like he was about to physically yank me from the seat.

Watching Padilla's increasingly triumphant gaze, my butt was getting further and further from the seat.

Padilla's malicious face as she stabbed me in the previous life reappeared before my eyes.

I closed my eyes and made a decision.

With a trickling sound, a stream of liquid sprayed out between my legs.

"Gross! This kid just peed himself!"

Suddenly, the crowd clutched their noses and backed away.

I sat back down on the seat, looking at Padilla defiantly.

"Are you still going to sit here?"

Padilla glanced at the liquid on the chair, then with a complicated expression, sat down in an empty seat nearby.

I let out a sigh of relief, covertly observing Padilla. For the next few stops, she showed no unusual behavior.

She didn't, like in my previous life, intimately call me "husband" after I gave her my seat.

The bus traveled three more stops, and I saw Padilla slowly stand up and walk to the door.

This stop was exactly where our company was located.

In my previous life, I remembered very clearly that Padilla got off the bus with me at this very stop.

And then, my nightmare at the company began.

Suddenly, I remembered that while I had successfully avoided giving up my seat, there were still chairs, cups, and even my watch at the office.

Any of those things could lead to intimate contact with Padilla.

I quickly made a call, telling Mr. Brown, the junk collector, to take all my belongings away, for free.

After seeing the photo of my bare, empty workspace, I sent a WhatsApp message to my boss.

"Sorry, Mr. Harrison, I've been diagnosed with schizophrenia and can't come to work. I'm formally resigning."

Then I sent a photoshopped medical report.

"About to enter a mental hospital, gotta go."

After everything was done, I breathed a sigh of relief. Now, I had completely cut off all contact with Padilla.

Her children definitely wouldn't have anything to do with me anymore.

Just in case, I didn't leave the work WhatsApp group, wanting to see what would happen there.

And sure enough, before long, I saw Padilla, with my profile picture, added to the group.

And Mr. Harrison's introduction of Padilla was exactly the same as in my previous life.

"Everyone, don't let Padilla's pregnancy and age fool you. She's a coding powerhouse, worth five people. We should all learn from her."

Until quitting time, there was nothing unusual in the group.

That evening, I took a shower and was about to have a drink when my girlfriend, Esther, called.

On the other end, her tone was furious.

"Giovanni? What's your deal? Are you seeing other women behind my back?"

"And if you are, you're hooking up with someone that old? I'm telling you, I'm breaking up with you!"

The call ended. I opened WhatsApp, and the messages in the company group almost made me drop my phone.

Earlier in the day, a coworker had asked Padilla why she was still working at such an age and while pregnant.

Padilla stammered, "Because the father of my children works at this company."

As soon as that news broke, the company WhatsApp group exploded. Everyone was guessing who the father of Padilla's children could be.

But after coworkers went around asking, Padilla shook her head to every name.

When someone finally mentioned my name, Padilla nodded shyly.

In the company WhatsApp group, people tagging me formed a long queue.

"Giovanni? You resigned because you didn't want to take responsibility, huh? Are you even a man?"

"Giovanni, this two-timing is too much. Does your girlfriend know about this?"

The person speaking was my rival, Chris.

He had been jealous of my beautiful and wealthy girlfriend for a long time.

Esther's call just now must have been Chris telling on me.

I immediately called Esther back to explain everything.

"Esther, I swear to God I haven't done anything to betray you."

"That woman is absolutely making things up. I've never even met her. How could her children possibly be mine?"

Just like in my previous life, I used these words to calm Esther down first.

But for some reason, I started to feel a vague unease again.

Why, despite my best efforts to avoid contact with Padilla, was she still clinging to me like this?

And why was she so sure that the children in her belly were mine?

In the company WhatsApp group, I directly posted a statement warning Padilla that if she kept spreading rumors, I would sue her.

Soon after leaving the company group, I lay in bed, my mind a mess.

Just then, my phone received a picture from an unknown number.

I opened it, and it was a photo of me and a woman.

In the dim light, I zoomed in on the woman's faceit was Padilla.

In the photo, she was clinging to my arm, and we looked intimate,

And I was looking at her with a doting expression, clearly a couple deeply in love.

Then, the date in the upper left corner of the photo caught my eye: 1995.

How was that possible? In 1995, I hadn't even been born yet!

And when did I ever take such an intimate photo with Padilla?

Just then, there was a frantic knocking at the door. My heart pounded as I slowly crept to the peephole.

Through the peephole, I saw the person outside was Padilla.

She called out to me, her face flushed with shyness, "Giovanni, I'm off work! Open the door!"

I froze, my entire body stiff.

What was with that photo? And how did Padilla know where I lived?

But because I was stunned, the knocking at the door grew more frantic, and Padilla's voice became more urgent.

The force of the knocking was so great that I felt like Padilla was going to smash the door down.

The neighbor across the hall opened their door, muttering angrily, "Are you trying to wake the dead in the middle of the night?"

Padilla turned her head, looking annoyed. "I'm knocking on my husband's door, what's it to you?"

The neighbor rubbed their eyes. "Your husband? You mean across the hall?"

Padilla touched her belly, a proud expression on her face. "Mhm, my husband's children are in here, and they'll be born soon."

My neighbor had seen me bring Esther home before.

If I let Padilla keep spouting nonsense, these terrible rumors would spread throughout the whole building by tomorrow.

Unable to bear it any longer, I directly called 911.

By the time the police arrived at my door, Padilla had already attracted quite a few neighbors.

I opened the door, and she looked at me with delight.

"Giovanni, you finally opened the door!"

Beside me, a police officer showed his badge and asked, "You're the one who called, right?"

"Yes, this person has been knocking on my door in the middle of the night, and spreading rumors that I'm her husband, but I don't even know her."

Padilla turned her body slightly away from the officer, as if deliberately hiding her face.

"Ma'am, please come down to the station with us."

But Padilla twisted her head away even further.

"I'm not going! I haven't murdered anyone or set anything on fire, what right do you have to question me?"

Her belly was terrifyingly large, making even the police officer frown.

"She's heavily pregnant, making baseless claims that I'm her husband right outside my house, and saying the children in her belly are mine."

"If these words get out, my girlfriend will definitely break up with me."

The officer nodded, but hesitated to lay hands on Padilla due to her pregnant status.

"Ma'am, please cooperate and come with us."

As the officers pressed closer, Padilla suddenly clutched her belly and ran.

Fortunately, the police stopped Padilla downstairs.

At the police station, Padilla was being interrogated.

I pulled out the picture I had received on my phone.

"This photo is dated '95, but I wasn't even born in '95. How could I possibly be in a picture with her?"

Saying that, I dialed the sender's number, and Padilla's phone rang.

The officer held up the photo and questioned Padilla, "What's the deal with this picture?"

Padilla sneered, "As you can see, it's a photo of me and my husband."

The officer's expression grew increasingly complex. I knew what they were thinking.

They must suspect Padilla has mental health issues.

But as the officer checked Padilla's records, a gasp came from another officer nearby. "Padilla, you were just released from prison last year?"

What? This news from the police made my mind even more chaotic.

Padilla had been in jail.

"I'm telling you, there's no need to question me. I can guarantee that the children in my belly are his."

"If you don't believe me, we can do a paternity test once they're born."

"If you don't believe me now, there's nothing I can do. Why can't we just let science prove it in the end?"

Faced with Padilla's unwavering certainty, the police hesitated and turned to me:

"Sir, do you recall if you might have met before and had a relationship, and you've simply forgotten?"

My eyes were bloodshot. I wanted to kill myself just to prove my innocence.

"If I ever had a relationship with her, I'd drop dead right now!"

But Padilla was calm, even offering me a cup of water:

"Giovanni, don't get so worked up. It hurts me to see you angry. Alright, whatever you say goes."

"The children really aren't yours."

My emotions broke, and I picked up a pen holder, ready to hit Padilla, when she suddenly clutched her belly and collapsed to the floor.

"Oh no, the pregnant woman is going into labor!"

That day, just like in my previous life, Padilla gave birth to quadruplets.

A week later, the police, with complicated expressions, handed me the paternity test results.

"After medical examination, these children..."