Short Rebirth Stories & Novels

During the heatwave apocalypse, I didn't die due to the heat, nor did I die in a conflict. My younger sister, Amber Carter, has a "heart of gold" by nature. She couldn't bear to see the people suffering in the apocalypse, so she gave away all the food in our cellar. After we ran out of food, Amber forced me to go look for food outside in the heat. That was how I died—from the heat outside. In this lifetime, I'm going to enjoy my ice-cold watermelon while watching Amber dig her grave with her own hands.

I find myself losing my mind when I learn that my wife, Meredith Snow, is flirting with her professor. I rush to her school, wanting to cause a scene. My father-in-law, Liam Snow, tells me that it's my fault for not being able to keep Meredith in check. Matthew Snow, my brother-in-law, says that I deserve all that is happening to me. I tell Meredith I want a divorce, but she uses our son, Elias Fairfield, to threaten me. I have no choice but to endure her despicable behavior for Elias' sake. I never thought that I would have to endure it for the rest of my life. Meredith lives a fantastic life while I wait on her hand and foot. She's eventually promoted to the position of professor and is guaranteed a comfortable life. As for me, I work hard all my life only for Elias to call me a loser. I end up dying alone on my sickbed in a rented house. Taking pity on me, God gives me another chance. He sends me back in time to the day I asked for a divorce.

After I come back to decades ago, the first thing I do is feed a million-dollar production patent to the pigs. In my previous life, I handed that patent over to the government. My husband turned me in, accusing me of faking the data and scamming a fortune in patent royalties. Overnight, I went from being a celebrated genius researcher to a lying thief that everyone despised. As I prepared to pull out my manuscript to prove my innocence, my husband's childhood sweetheart beat me to it. She waved it in front of everyone and accused me of misconduct and plagiarism. My husband took her side, reprimanding me, "I know you've always been jealous of Juni for being well-educated, but I can't believe you were bold enough to steal her hard work. What are you going to do next? Embezzle state funds?" I couldn't defend myself. No matter what I said, no one chose to believe me. The other researchers assaulted me so badly that I bled out and died. After my death, my husband and his childhood sweetheart took my patent without a second thought. The never-ending stream of patent royalties made them rich and powerful. When I open my eyes again, I'm back on the very day she accuses me of stealing.

The day I was reborn, I came across that anonymous post again. “My sponsor is like a sister to me, but her husband gives me butterflies. “I know it’s wrong, but I can’t stop myself from feeling this way. Yesterday, we got down and dirty on the couch she bought.” Back in my past life, this very post broke me. In a fit of rage, I exposed their filthy secret to the world. The girl I once gave my heart and soul to help succumbed to cyberbullying and took her life by jumping off a building. After the funeral, my husband, Taylor Rogue, became a devoted and gentle man, only to lock me up in a mental institution the moment I put down my walls. “You should spend the rest of your life atoning for ruining Ivy!” With three years of pills and electric shock stripping away my sanity and dignity, I climbed to the roof and leaped. When I opened my eyes, I was back to the moment everything began.

At the family tea-tasting event, I openly admit that I am terrible at it. I also announce that I am cutting ties with the White family and giving up my inheritance rights. My father trembles with anger and points at me while furiously questioning, "Are you out of your mind?" My fiance, Liam Ford, holds the fake heiress, Laura White, in his arms. He snaps, "Juliana White, if you can't handle losing, then don't agree to compete in the first place. The way you are acting now is an embarrassment to my family and me!" Only I know that I am not crazy. In my previous life, at this very tea-tasting event that determined who got the right to the inheritance, they joined hands to drag me down in the most humiliating way. Laura beat me and uttered every tasting note I came up with first. Again and again, I try to prove myself, only to be refuted by her each time. She became the celebrated tea prodigy, while I turned into a laughingstock who made a fool of herself. In the end, I suffer a mental breakdown and run out of the house, only to be hit and killed by one of Laura's fans. No one bothered to claim and bury my corpse. When I open my eyes again, I am back at my first family tea-tasting event after being brought back to the White family.

My younger sister and I unlocked our systems on the same day? The setting? The nation decades ago. She went for the learning system and married an intellectual. I had no choice but to go with the useless storage space system. Then, I was forced to marry a thug. A very rude and crass one at that. Thanks to the storage space system, I got through a famine and became the village's richest person. My sister's learning system was useless, and she almost died of starvation. Driven by jealousy, my sister seduced my husband and slept with him. To get my wealth, they came up with a plan and pushed me down a cliff. When I came to, I realized we'd returned to the day we awakened our systems. My sister shoved me away and picked the useless storage space system. "Move, you bitch! Now I have your system! I'll survive the famine and get rich! You'll live in my shadow forever, as you should!" She was so smug. She was gloating. I took the learning system and smiled to myself. Unbeknownst to my sister, I got rich during the famine, not because of the system, and my dream was to score high on the exam and get into a good college. My sister managed to mess up her life even when she had the better system. Now she took the useless one. I could practically see the misery waving at her down the path.

Daisy Truman's childhood crush, Corey Sager, threatened to jump off a building on our wedding day. She ignored him and went ahead with our wedding. Daisy started to panic when he leaped off the building. From then onward, Daisy moved into a church and became a pious person everyone knew of. She aborted our baby and made me kneel in confession to repent for this so-called sin. I tried to escape, but she ordered my legs to be broken and even used my family to threaten me. I lived a life of misery and torture. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to my wedding day. This time, I would push her into Corey's arms. As for me, it was my turn to become the love that she lost.

In my previous life, my three sons told me they wanted to set up a Family Bond Fund for me. Each of them would deposit three thousand dollars every month. I cried with gratitude, truly believing that decades of sacrifice had finally paid off. One of them even said, "Mom, you've given us so much. It's our turn to take care of you now." However, eight years later, I was told I have uremia. That was when I discover that the bank card, which supposedly held the fund, couldn't even cover the dialysis deposit. Soon after, my eldest son video-called me. He said he wanted to buy a better apartment in a good school district. He was short of 150 thousand dollars for the down payment and asked if I could lend it to him first. My second son came to the hospital with his wife and daughter. He didn't ask about my condition at all. Instead, he kept showing off his daughter's piano competition trophy, hinting that he needed 50 thousand dollars to enroll her in a prestigious international piano program. My youngest son was even more straightforward. He said he had his eye on a limited-edition pair of sneakers and wanted me to pay 30 thousand dollars for them as a birthday gift. The moment they realized the bank account didn't have enough money, their faces fell. "We each put in three thousand dollars every month. Over eight years, that's at least eight hundred thousand dollars. Mom, are you hiding the money from us?" To force me to reveal my savings, they took turns pressuring me, switching between sweet talk and threats. They even told relatives that I had dementia and had been scammed out of my money. Unable to take it anymore, I yanked out my IV late one night and walked out of the hospital, only to be hit by a car, dying instantly. When I open my eyes again, I find myself back on the day of my hospital checkup.

I realized my period was two weeks late after going on a trip to the swimming pool with my best friend, Gianna Lowe. Gianna insisted that I take a pregnancy test. I was stunned when I saw the two red lines on the pregnancy stick test. I had a boyfriend, Mitchell Gray, but I was a conservative person, so I still hadn't slept with Mitchell. I couldn't help but wonder whose baby this was. I planned to just terminate the mystery pregnancy, but Mitchell pretended to be worried about my health, offering to marry me and raise the child. It was finally my delivery date. I was lying weakly in the delivery room when Mitchell shoved a pillow over my face and smothered me, roaring, "You slut! Did you think I'd raise another man's child? I'll make you and this illegitimate child pay for everything!" I was too weak to resist since I had just given birth, so Mitchell successfully killed me. I suddenly open my eyes and realize that I have returned to the day I found out about my pregnancy. I am completely determined this time—I have to find out who the father really is!

My older sister was always kind-hearted, while I was born a natural troublemaker. When the intense heatwave struck, our family stocked up on supplies and stayed indoors. My sister saw a little boy, who seemed about seven or eight years old, crying and asking for help. She decided to take him in. “We’ve plenty of supplies anyway. One more person won’t make much difference. Besides, he’s just a child.” I warned her that the boy looked oddly mature and might not be as innocent as he seemed. I suggested we observe him a bit longer. She said I was a cold-hearted troublemaker by nature. Then, she went and let him in anyway. Not just that, but she also convinced our mother to force me to share a room with the boy. That night, the scheming “little boy” secretly climbed into my bed. I was brutally assaulted. Yet my sister told me to let bygones be bygones and marry him. To force me to obey, she locked me out on the balcony at over 140 °F. Enraged, I set a fire and killed everyone. When I opened my eyes again and saw my sister safe and unharmed, I smiled. This time, I would show them what a troublemaker really was.

Victor and I were nothing more than a pair of sworn enemies married inside the camp. He hated me for handing over my frail sister to the research institute, all so they could extract the antiviral serum from her blood. And I hated him for never seeing anyone but her, even in the apocalypse, when she could barely lift a metal rod. For the ten years of the apocalypse, the words we said to each other most often were, "Die a miserable death." … However, when the zombie horde finally broke through the last line of defense, he chained me to the modified mech truck and went out alone to face it. "Live…" I watched as the tide of corpses swallowed him whole, the crack of breaking bones mixing with the sound of flesh being torn apart. On the edge of death, he pulled out my sister's faded photo and placed it over the one clean spot on his chest. "This life is yours. But if there's a next one, don't go near her again." … That night, when I returned, I blew up the camp. When I opened my eyes again, I went to the zombie king. His razor-sharp claws closed around my throat, and I smiled as I took hold of his hand. "Let's make a deal. Give humans five more years, and I'll willingly be your queen." Last time, he gave his life to save me. This time, I'll be the monster—so they can all get what they want.

Overnight, an electronic notification sounded in the minds of all office workers. It was from a "Performance-Share System". The rules: employees who paired off could split their year-end bonuses 50/50. I was a junior associate at Summit Financial, one of the biggest wealth management firms in Manhattan. In my previous life, I agreed to pair with my manager, Jared, and the intern he brought in — Stephanie. By the time the project went into its crunch phase, they'd shoved every garbage task and every blown deadline onto me. I pulled all-nighters for months. My body was running on fumes. When the one promotion that could have saved me came up, they cut me out of the team without a second thought. In the end I was fired for "burnout and poor performance." I couldn't make my mortgage. I jumped. They took the work I'd done with me, walked out with million-dollar bonuses each, and flew off on vacation together. Then I opened my eyes again. I was back, on the exact day the pair-binding system went live. This time, I'm not just keeping every cent of what I earn. This time, I'm putting them in prison.

During the year that changed my life, my high school homeroom teacher called me to the corridor and asked if I was the heroine of the dirty scandal that shook the whole school. “I know you’re here on a scholarship because of your family’s underprivileged background, but you can’t just do anything for money!” As everyone threw me strange looks, she continued smugly, “Don’t deny it. The mole on the girl’s neck is just like yours!” I calmly wiped off the ink stain on my skin, revealing my unblemished neck. My teacher turned red in the face. Unfortunately for her, I had been reborn. This time, I was not going to fall into the same traps.

To save his childhood sweetheart, who had a congenital heart condition, my husband tricked me into signing an organ donation agreement. Then he got into a truck and ran me over right in front of the hospital. Barely clinging to life, Elliot Carter tore my heart from my chest. When my body was wheeled out of the operating room, Alan Yates came crashing to my side like a man gone mad. Seeing the gaping hole where my heart used to be, he screamed and wept: "I'm sorry… I was too late… If there's another life, I'll never let you suffer like this again…" Tears fell exactly where my heart had been, and somehow, I even felt a flicker of warmth. He spun around and ran back into the operating room. When he came out again, Elliot and Jessica Foster were lying in a pool of blood. Alan, meanwhile, had slashed his own wrist to die with me. On his deathbed, he ordered that we be buried together. Then I opened my eyes. I had been reborn. Before me stood Elliot, dressed in a wedding gown, holding a bouquet, and proposing. I flung the flowers in his face and turned to embrace Alan in the crowd. However, only a year and a half into our marriage, he changed. Alan began openly pairing up with Jessica, letting her move into our home. Worse, he claimed that our cat's mating season had disturbed Jessica's sleep, and so he allowed her to run over the cat I had raised for seven years. I could not believe it. This was not the man who had loved me so deeply in my previous life. My eyes blazing, I demanded, "What's wrong with you?" However, Alan's gaze was icy. "Nothing. I just don't love you anymore."

The night Gloria Leach—my husband's ex—died in the rain, he floored it and drove us off a cliff. That's when it clicked. Evan Patterson had always hated me for getting between him and Gloria. Then I woke up, I was back on the wedding day. This time, he didn't even pause. Ditched the rings. Ran straight to her outside the church. I didn't cry. Didn't make a scene. I just called it off. While they turned their reunion into a show, I said yes to someone else. In this life, Evan and I were strangers. Until eight years later. An auction. I placed a no-cap bid on the final item—sapphire cufflinks. Won. I was leaving when Evan stepped in front of me, scowling. "Robyn, stop embarrassing yourself. Even if you bought every cufflink on earth for me, I still wouldn't love you. Gloria's the only one in my heart." I didn't even look at him. Just reached for the little girl beside me. "Sweetheart, say hi to the gentleman." He saw her face—mine, copied clean. His eyes went red, and his grip snapped around my wrist. "She's our daughter?"

After reliving my life for the third time, Soren Vantrell still died at 28. Unwilling to accept it, I started over again, meeting him and falling in love as before, until a sudden turn changed everything. He began claiming his mental state was unstable, using it as an excuse to visit his psychologist, Dr. Nadia Pembroke, again and again. Until one day, I caught them kissing inside her consultation room. With a light, mocking laugh, Soren said, "You might think I’m crazy if I told you this, but I really have died three times. Every single time, I died right next to Sloane Hartwell. "I was originally curious to see how she would try to save me this time. Now that I think about it, she must have been bad luck. Once I stayed far away from her, didn’t I end up living just fine?" I quietly stepped back. In this fourth life, whether he lived or died has nothing to do with me anymore. This time, I was going to live my own life.

I died giving birth. I gave George Norris ten children in seven years and died with my last child during childbirth. Everyone said I was unlucky, but no one knew that I saw the comments on the screen as I was dying. [The cannon fodder is pretty pitiful. Now the female lead gets ten healthy babies for free.] [The female lead is so clever. She likes children but doesn't want to give birth to any for the male lead, so she added fertility pills in the cannon fodder's food.] [Tsk, tsk, tsk, the cannon fodder probably won't even know she gave birth to the male lead and female lead's children.] The comments made me so angry that I dropped dead right then and there. When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back, right after I had married George. [Tsk, the female lead is so ruthless; she added three fertility pills to the chicken soup.] [Is the female lead not afraid that the cannon fodder will give birth to triplets and die on the operating table?] Watching the chicken soup Cheryl York handed me, I grinned, grabbed her mouth, and poured the soup down her throat. If she liked having children so much, she could have as many as she wanted!

My fiancé's older brother was into girls with tiny waists. He wanted to marry my foster sister—the one with the twenty-one-inch waist. Their wedding? Same day Eric and I were supposed to get hitched. When he found out, Eric begged me to swap with Briana. "Lena, it's always been Briana. If your family hadn't found you, she wouldn't have had to play fake heiress, and I wouldn't be stuck with you." I stayed quiet. He kept digging. "Chill. My brother won't even touch you. Once the dust settles, I'll bring you back—as my side piece." Staring at that fake, slimy smile, I felt a little out of it. Last time, I told him no—and still ended up married to him, beaten until I died. Then I woke up. Same day. Same plea from Eric. This time, I handed them exactly what they wanted. "Fine. I'll marry him." Eric lit up like he'd won. Didn't last long. Next thing I knew, he was out in the rain, on his knees, clutching his head, sobbing, begging me to leave his brother and come back.

I secured a big deal for the company and was promoted to manager. However, I overheard my boss' secretary gossiping in the pantry, saying that I was brainless and only got where I was by using my body. I was so angry that I wanted to report it to the police. Surprisingly, her husband stopped me and forced his wife to bow and apologize to me, begging for forgiveness. Things got worse on the next day. Someone shared my inappropriate photos in the company group chat along with records of me supposedly checking into a hotel with a man. My colleagues looked at me with contempt, as if they all knew what was happening but refused to speak up. Even my boss fired me, saying I had moral issues. My husband immediately divorced me when he found out, took our daughter away, and left me with nothing. Neighbors pointed fingers and whispered about me. I was so overwhelmed that I lost my senses and was killed by a car crash. When I opened my eyes, I returned to the day I was promoted.

I knew perfectly well that open flames were forbidden at a gas-leak scene, yet as a firefighter, I still backed my girlfriend's childhood friend when he insisted on lighting a cigarette "to calm his nerves." In my previous life, a sudden gas leak erupted during a gathering. Her childhood friend insisted on smoking to steady himself. I slapped the lighter out of his hand and yelled at him for trying to get us all killed. Humiliated, he ignored everyone's attempts to stop him and stormed outside—only to be crushed by an advertising board blown loose by the explosion's shockwave. Later, when I saved a child who had fallen from a building and was left hanging in midair myself, my girlfriend—my second-in-command—maliciously cut my safety rope. She stared at my corpse and said, "If you hadn't humiliated George in front of everyone, he wouldn't have died." When I opened my eyes again, I was back in that room thick with the stench of leaking gas.