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Due to an accident, my wife and I lost our lives in a massive fire. When we open our eyes again, we find ourselves back on the day we registered our marriage. In our last life, everyone thought we were the perfect couple. Little did they know that my wife, Queenie Lloyd, refused to consummate our marriage. Right before my death, I found out that I was nothing but a replacement for her first love. Queenie had intended to remain chaste for him for the rest of her life. After being reborn, neither of us speaks of the past. By an unspoken agreement, we get a divorce that very day and go on to live separate lives. Eight years later, she attends an industry summit holding her childhood sweetheart's arm. She's now a rising star in the business world. I am dressed in plain clothes. When she notices me, she walks over with a champagne glass in hand. "Mr. Lawrence! Even if you still have feelings for me, you didn't have to disguise yourself as a waiter just to approach me. Are you still trying to convince me to get back together with you?" she sneers. I ignore her and smile as I wave at someone nearby. My son runs over to me and tugs on the corner of my shirt. "Mommy said she's tired, Daddy. She wants to know when you're coming to pick us up," he tells me. Upon hearing this, Queenie's face stiffens immediately, and she almost drops her wine glass.

Before the wedding, my fiancé disappeared while camping with friends. I searched for him for an entire month, nearly losing my mind. But on Valentine's Day, a week before our wedding, I saw him at a romantic restaurant, hugging and kissing his childhood sweetheart. Jayden Corrick held the woman in his arms and said softly, "If this goes on, I don't even want to go back and marry Leah." Sophie Muller asked if he regretted disappearing—if he truly didn't plan on going back. He hesitated for a moment. "No regrets. Let's stay one more week. Our parents will cover for us anyway. When she's completely driven mad with worry, I'll show up again." I stood hidden among the crowd, watching their closeness, and gave a bitter smile. The next moment, I called home. "Don't bother looking for Jayden anymore. I'm never marrying him."

Taylor Crewman has always been considered as the lowest of the low in the social hierarchy of LittleWood High.She is constantly reminded of where she belongs by a certain best-friend-turned-worst-enemy. Desperate to do something about it she embarks on her biggest project yet.

When I was young, I saved a fae—charming and extremely handsome. In return, he offered me one wish, and I, lost in romantic fantasies, asked for the strongest wolves to be obsessed with me. It sounded dreamy—until it wasn’t. Obsession, I learned, is a storm disguised as a dream. First up, my stepbrother—his obsession turned him into a tormentor. Life became unbearable, and I had to escape before a mating ceremony that felt more like a nightmare than a love story. But freedom was short-lived. The next wolf found me, nearly made me his dinner, and kidnapped me away to his kingdom, proclaiming I would be his Luna. He wasn’t as terrifying, but when he announced our wedding plans (against my will, obviously), his best friend appeared as competitor number three. “Great! Just what I needed,” I thought. This third wolf was sweet, gentle, and truly cared—but, alas, he wasn’t my type. Desperate, I tracked down the fae. “Please, undo my wish! I want out of this romantic disaster!” My heart raced; I really needed him to understand me. He just smiled and shrugged his shoulders. “Sorry, you’re on your own. But I can help you pick the best one out of them!” How do I fix this mess? Facing three intense wolves: “Marry me, I’ll kill anyone who bothers you!” the first declared fiercely. “No, marry me! I’ll make you the happiest ever,” the second pleaded. “I’ll destroy every kingdom you walk into. You’re mine!” the third growled, eyes blazed. “Seriously, what have I gotten myself into?” A long sigh escaped my lips. Caught between a curse and a hard place, I really just wanted peace and quiet…but which one do I choose?

After I came back to life, the first thing I did was hand that five-carat diamond ring—yes, the one my husband gave me—to his mother. The very woman who spent years picking me apart like it was her favorite pastime. In my last life, that ring was a custom New Year's gift. He paid a ridiculous amount for it. I actually thought it meant something. One afternoon, I was out shopping when I walked right into a bridal party taking pictures. The bride glanced at my hand, saw the ring, and her entire expression changed. She stormed over and slapped me, accusing me of being a shameless mistress trying to steal her man. I stood there, completely stunned. She was wearing the exact same ring. Before I could explain, her friends grabbed me. They dragged me aside, tore my clothes, hit me, and stomped on my hand until I couldn't move my fingers. They carved the word "mistress" into my face and paraded me through the street like some kind of public disgrace. I died there on the pavement. When my husband finally appeared, he didn't fight for me. He just signed off on a settlement, as if my life were nothing more than a piece of paperwork. Widowed that morning, married to the bride by nightfall. His mother instantly welcomed the new woman, all because she was pregnant. And then I opened my eyes again… back on the very day he first placed that diamond ring in my hand.

My daughter has leukemia and desperately needs a bone marrow donor. After a blood test, it turns out my blood type doesn't match hers. However, my husband's blood type does. This confuses me. I gave birth to her, so how could my blood type not be a match for hers? I'm puzzled by this when my long-lost best friend suddenly appears with her son, who's about my daughter's age. She wants him to do a blood test to see whether it matches my daughter's.