"I'm pregnant," my wife announced happily when I got home. I paused before hugging her. "Oh, that’s wonderful. We're going to be parents again," I said, though worry flooded my mind. Just two days ago, I’d been laid off. Rent was due, and my son’s school fees loomed. My wife’s salary couldn’t support the household. I felt I’d failed. Now, with a baby on the way, the weight was unbearable.

That night, unable to sleep, I slipped out to a nearby abandoned building, thinking that maybe ending my life would spare my wife the financial burden. There, I sat, gripping a blade, and without fear, slit my wrist. Watching the blood flow, I began to feel dizzy and fell back, losing consciousness.

When I awoke, I wasn’t on the floor anymore. I was by a swampy riverside, surrounded by people waiting for a boat ride. There were others loitering nearby, desperate for coins to pay their fare. Someone asked if I had money; I didn’t. "Do you know how to earn some?" I asked, but he shook his head. "We can’t earn it here. If your soul was collected, you’d have money with you. But those of us who took our own lives… we’re stuck."

"So, we can’t cross?" I asked.

"Exactly. And when the guardians come, we have to hide or risk being thrown into the burning lake," he warned. "Those flames you see instead of water? That’s what separates us from the other side. People are trapped there, trying to swim out but only getting pushed back, suffering every day."

I was scared. "Can we ask others for money?"

"Maybe, but they won’t give any because nobody knows how much the ride costs. And if your fare isn’t enough, the boatman leaves you in the middle of the burning river. You can’t escape the flames, and the more you swim, the more the waves push you back to the center."

Desperation gnawed at me. I tried joining the queue, hoping for mercy. But when I reached the front, the boatman sneered and pushed me into the fiery water. The heat was unbearable, and the other souls trapped within pulled me down. I screamed, thrashing against the flames, regret surging through me as I begged for another chance. The agony was relentless, the flames endless. My thirst, my desperation—none of it would end here.

I finally stopped struggling, allowing the fiery waves to push me toward a dark pit. It was pitch black, suffocating, and I feared what lay ahead, yet it seemed better than the fiery torment I was in. As I fell deeper into the darkness, I cried out in repentance. "Please, save me. I’m sorry, I’ll do better, I’ll be grateful."

At that moment, I awoke on the floor, my wrist bleeding, with a stranger tying a bandage around it. "He’s conscious!" he shouted to someone. They lifted me and rushed me to the hospital, and I could finally breathe again, clutching the reality I’d almost thrown away. Now, I’m grateful for my life, no matter the hardships. I have big problems, but not as big as swimming in a river of flames.