Reborn to Clear My Name

I snapped my eyes open; sunlight slipped through the curtains and landed on the calendar atop the bedside table. The calendar shows August 9, 2025—just three days before I am arrested. My hand clutching the bedsheet trembles as memories from my previous life flood in like a tide. The pounding of the courtroom gavel, my parents' gravestones, the wedding photos of Sunny Scott and Kevin Clark—each image stabs my heart with unbearable pain. In my last life, I was the project manager at the company, about to marry Sunny. But on August 12, the police burst into the office, accusing me of raping the intern, Tina, on August 10. The evidence was disturbingly 'complete'—AI-generated photos, doctored surveillance footage, and Tina's accusations. And the one who betrayed me was my fiancee of five years, Sunny Scott. During the trial, I begged desperately to prove my innocence, but no one believed me. I couldn't provide an alibi for August 10, and was sentenced to twelve years outright. My parents sold the house they had lived in for thirty years to fund my appeal. On their way to the courthouse with the sale money, a truck ran a red light and struck them—they died instantly. The same day I received my death notification in prison, I also received another delivery. It was Sunny and Kevin Clark's wedding invitation; their smiles in the photo were painfully bright. I stared at the date on the invitation, struggling to catch my breath as a heart attack gripped me. I thought I would die in prison, but when I opened my eyes, I had returned to the days before the tragedy. Sunny Scott and Kevin Clark could forge evidence to frame me, but I would create my own 'case.' I want everyone to see exactly where I was on August 10. On the morning of August 10, I purposely wore a striking blue coat and took Subway Line 3 to the city center. The subway was packed, the air heavy with the mingled smell of sweat and disinfectant. I stood in the middle of the carriage, my gaze fixed on a girl ahead, wearing an off-white dress. She had a canvas bag slung over her shoulder, her hair tied in a ponytail, and was staring down at her mobile phone. I slowly pulled out my mobile phone, switched to photo mode, and aimed the camera in her direction. The moment my finger pressed the shutter button, the flash went off with a sharp 'click.' The next second, my arm was grabbed hard—so hard that my wrist throbbed. "What do you think you're doing? Secretly filming a girl?" The one who grabbed me was a man in his twenties, wearing a plaid shirt, his eyes blazing with anger. People around immediately crowded in, and someone pulled out a mobile phone to film me. "Perverts these days are so bold, secretly filming in broad daylight!" "Call the police! Don't let him get away!" Someone shoved a phone right in my face; the glare from the screen stung my eyes. "What are you filming? Pervert!" the guy in the plaid shirt shouted again. I flashed a peace sign at his camera, deliberately grinning: "So what if I'm filming? She's dressed so beautifully—can't I keep it as a memory?" The crowd grew angrier; someone reached out to hit me but was pulled back by someone nearby. “Don't fight—wait for the police!” “Right, let the police handle him. People like this should be locked up!” I looked at the chaotic crowd, feeling no panic at all. That was my plan—the more people witnessed it, the better. The subway arrived, and as the doors opened, two uniformed police officers stepped in. “Who called the police? What happened?” The boy in the plaid shirt immediately pointed at me. "Sir, he secretly filmed a girl!" The girl blushed and stepped forward. "He just used his mobile phone to take pictures of me and even turned on the flash." The police approached me with a stern expression. "Take out your mobile phone." I obediently handed over my mobile phone, fully aware that I hadn't captured anything—the camera was actually pointed at the floor. "Come with us." The police grabbed my arm and dragged me out of the subway. I deliberately slowed my pace, smiling at the people taking photos around me. "Everyone, could you please take a picture for me?" "This is the first time I've ever been to the station. I want to keep a memento." "Remember this day—August 10, 2025, the 'big day' of mine, Leo Lincoln!"