After My Jinx Daughter Cursed Us Chapter 1

My daughter was a jinx. Her first word was “Die.” No one thought much of it, but the next day her grandfather was hit by a truck and killed. When she started preschool, her second sentence was, “The snow by the door is red.” My mother-in-law went downstairs and was struck by a falling flowerpot—her head split open, blood pooling on the ground and staining the snow crimson.

Grief-stricken, my husband wanted to get rid of her. Then she said, “Daddy, watch out for the car.” Terrified, he barely left the house. But he slipped on a toy car, fell, and suffered a cerebral hemorrhage—he died instantly.

I begged her to stop cursing us. She looked cold and guiltless. “Mommy,” she said flatly, “stay away from the fire.”

On New Year’s Eve, I climbed to the roof. I didn’t want to burn—I chose my own end. As I jumped, fireworks exploded below, engulfing me in sparks. I died instantly, amid screams. My daughter watched blankly from the roof. Even in death, I couldn’t understand why she cursed us all.

Then I woke up—back to the day she first learned to speak. This time, I’d finally know what her cursed words really meant.

…

My eyes fluttered open to see my one-year-old daughter pointing a chubby finger at my father-in-law, her baby voice clear and chilling. “Die.”

At first, no one reacted. Her grandfather was still tickling her chin playfully. “What’s my little Nora saying, huh? Say ‘Grandpa,’ and Grandpa will give you a big surprise!”

But Nora’s little face was a cold mask. She repeated the word. “Die.”

A wave of fear and anger washed over me. I clamped my hand over her mouth.

“Don’t you ever say that word! How could you wish for Grandpa to die?”

Nora struggled against my hand, her face turning red as she began to wail.

My father-in-law rushed to intervene. “She’s just learning to talk, Anna! Why are you getting so worked up?”

I bit my lip, my body trembling uncontrollably.

“Dad, she’s cursing you!”

He stared at me for a moment, then burst out laughing.

“What are you talking about? She’s a baby. She doesn’t even know what ‘die’ means.”

I didn’t know how to explain it. All I could do was plead with him to be careful when he went out.

“Especially watch out for traffic,” I begged.

He agreed, but I could tell he wasn't taking me seriously.

I told my husband, Mark, the same thing. He just laughed and said I was overreacting.

He looked at Nora with adoration. “She’s my lucky star, Anna, not some jinx.” Then his expression softened with concern. “Are you sure you’re not suffering from postpartum anxiety? Maybe you should take a break. Let my parents watch Nora for a while.”

A jolt of panic shot through me. I shook my head violently.

No. What if she cursed someone else when I wasn’t looking?

But a small, hopeful part of me wondered if maybe, just maybe, everything before had been a string of horrible coincidences.

I kept my father-in-law at home for the next few days. I even gathered up all the toy cars and locked them away, terrified of a repeat of what happened to Mark.

After a few days of being cooped up, my father-in-law couldn't stand it anymore. “I’m just going down to the community garden for some fresh air. Don’t fuss over me!”

I pleaded with him again and again not to go anywhere near the road.

But the accident happened anyway.