Emotional

When my grandpa fell gravely ill and needed treatment abroad, the elders in the family decided to choose a junior to accompany him. They picked my cousin, but my mom tearfully pleaded with me to take her place. "You're a doctor. Caring for your grandfather is second nature to you. Bianca is an orphan, frail and delicate. She can't handle such a grueling task." To save her distress, I agreed to go in Bianca Pittman's stead, embarking on a five-year stay abroad. When my grandpa finally recovered, I boarded a flight home, eager to reunite with my family. But as I landed, a post on my mother's social media froze me in my tracks. [My daughter is getting married! Thank you all for your blessings!] But I was her only daughter. I couldn't help but wonder who she was referring to.

After the plane crash, I rejected the captain—my brother-in-law’s—final life jacket that he had as he handed it to me. Instead, I allowed myself to plunge a hundred meters from the sky. In my previous life, I had survived after accepting his life jacket. But he died a tragic death in the crash. After his death, I was consumed with guilt. My husband proposed to take care of two households at the same time so that he could look after his sister-in-law. Out of guilt, I reluctantly agreed to his proposal. I even had to give up my only chance of getting promoted to department head of the hospital to my sister-in-law, upon my husband’s insistence. When I was seventy years old, I suddenly saw my brother-in-law, who was supposed to be dead, show up in front of me. He said to my husband, “Bro, thank goodness you came up with that fake-death plan back then. I was drunk and caused the deaths of all the passengers after the plane crash. If not for that plan of yours, as the captain, I certainly could not have escaped scot-free and would have been sentenced to prison for life! “It was too bad we had to keep her in the dark for her entire life.” After a lifetime of sacrifices, I was so furious that I nearly passed out upon hearing my brother-in-law’s words. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of the plane crash.

On the day I attend the centennial celebration of my alma mater, I encounter my first love, Victor Whitmore. After he delivers a speech as an alumni representative, he publicly presents me with a diamond ring. "Back then, you said you wanted to use your 'Wild Roses' design to make me a wedding ring. Now it's my turn to propose. Claire Webb, will you marry me?" The auditorium erupts in excitement. Everyone waits for me to nod tearfully in agreement. After all, I once pursued Victor with such passion that it shocked the entire school. However, everyone has forgotten something. Back then, I was accused of plagiarizing Emma Palmer's work for my graduation project. Victor knew the truth, yet he slandered me as the plagiarizer. At the press conference, as the brand representative, he announced that they would cease collaboration with me and called for me to be blacklisted across the industry. On the very day my reputation was ruined, I moved abroad. Now that I'm back, his close friend keeps advising me. "He's been waiting for you all these years. Even though you embarrassed him back then, you're still the one in his heart. "He even made a scene at the principal's office just to get your graduation certificate. Claire, he truly loves you."

After I brought in 300 million dollars in investment for his company, my fiance showed me the home we would share. I thought we would finally get married after eight years together, but instead, he turned on a building game. “I laid every brick here. Once the company is listed, I’ll build you a house just like this one.” I found him and his secretary showing off their love. He had bought her an expensive villa as a gift. I sent the photo to my fiance. “You can afford to buy someone a villa as a gift, but not our home?” Displeased, he said, “Alyssa is the company’s backbone. I’m only giving her a villa to encourage the other staff to do better!” But in the background, I heard Alyssa’s pleased laughter. “Some people should really be more self-aware. Does she think getting some investment makes her the boss of this company?” I did my best to suppress my anger. I wanted to see just how long the company would survive if not for the investments I found!

On the day my boyfriend and I moved into our new home, his ex-girlfriend gave us a mysterious gift. The moment I opened the front door, a swarm of hornets came flying out. I screamed in fright as I felt seven or eight stings from them. His ex, Erica Loft, jumped out from behind the door with a giggle. She shouted, "Surprise! "I went up the mountains to visit a master craftsman. I wanted to get you this specially brewed hornet wine, and I even brought back a hornet's nest for you to decorate your new house with! "Isn't this a great gift?" Erica made a face at us. She was gleeful at the messy predicament I was in. My boyfriend, Joe Fulham, clenched his teeth. He rushed forward to grab Erica by the wrist as he shouted angrily at her. "Are you crazy? Don't you know that hornets are venomous?! Is this really a surprise, or are you trying to hurt us?" I listened to another one of their huge arguments from behind the door, feeling like an outsider in my own relationship. As I felt the stinging pain in my arm, I knew this wedding was about to fall through.

After my wife had a miscarriage, the doctor said she could never have children again. She cried and told me to find another woman and to forget about her. I held her in my arms and told her I didn't care about having any children. However, I was smiling when she wasn't looking. The abortion remedy I bought in the countryside had worked much faster than I expected. After all, that child wasn't mine to begin with.

I was in a car accident on my way to my son, Nathan’s piano competition. Ignoring my injuries, I limped to the venue just in time for the awards ceremony. Nathan won the gold medal. With excitement shining in his eyes, he ran toward me. But as I smiled at him, he turned and placed the medal around the neck of my husband’s first love, Janine Beck. My husband of ten years, Christopher Frost, looked at me with irritation. “Look at what you’re wearing! You’re filthy, like a beggar,” he said cruelly. “Don’t come to Nathan’s celebration dinner tonight—he’s embarrassed by you!” I stayed silent and went alone to the hospital to have my injuries checked. Later, I returned to the villa, drenched in the rain, only to find the doors locked against me. I knocked on the door in the pouring rain for the entire night. At dawn, when the first light broke across the sky, I sent Christopher a message: [Let’s get a divorce. As you wish, I will no longer be an eyesore in your lives.]

Housing prices collapsed. My parents ran a real estate business. They and their long-time family friend, the Goodwin family, went into bankruptcy. My parents had me and my younger sister draw lots to decide who would marry into the Goodwin family to fulfill an old engagement. In my previous life, I drew the short stick. From that moment, I became a slave to both families. During the day, I needed to work to pay off the Goodwin family’s debt. At night, I needed to deliver food to cover my parents’ financial losses. I survived on scraps and slept in the cold. I continued to work even when I coughed up blood. That day, I went all out and finally secured a multimillion-dollar business deal. My heart burst with excitement. I was eager to tell them the good news. Across the street, I saw my parents get off a Rolls-Royce with wide grins. They dressed up in luxury brands from head to toe. Then, I saw my husband, Alfred, gently wrap one of his arms around my glamorous sister’s shoulder. I wanted to rush over and question them. But a speeding truck slammed into me and sent me flying away. I lay in a pool of blood while staring at them indignantly. I heard them chuckle softly. “What a pity… She was so close to enjoying a good life.” When I opened my eyes again, I returned to the day I drew the lots. Since they liked to pretend to be broke, I would make it a reality!

On a rainy day, I gave my pregnant neighbor a ride home since it was on my way. As a result, she became clingy and started insisting I drive her home every day. When I refused, she teared up and accused me of lacking compassion. Her husband even showed up at my door, demanding, "Why won't you take my wife to and from work? Are you looking down on us?" In the end, I sold my car and moved to a new place. If I couldn’t afford to offend them, at least I could avoid them!

Dad is famous for being a total simp over Mom in the elite society. Naturally, he views Callie Archer, the stepdaughter whom Mom has brought with her, as his own. But Callie is afflicted with a severe case of walking phobia. Her feet couldn't touch the ground at all. Only when she's stepping on my back can she roam around in the house freely. So, whenever Callie looks in a certain direction, Mom will press my head down and force me to crawl toward Callie to serve as her doormat. The doctor issues a warning to my family that my spine is severely contorted. So when Callie wants to admire the flowers in the yard while wearing a pair of spiked shoes again, I can't endure the pain anymore, so I shiver slightly out of instinct. Callie ends up losing her balance and falling to the ground. She bawls like a baby afterward. Mom rushes over immediately before kicking me in the gut, her high heel lodging into my flesh. "It's extremely rare for Callie to be willing to leave the house! Why must you ruin her mood? Can't you just be more understanding and play your role as a doormat for the sake of your sister's illness?" Meanwhile, Dad scoops Callie into his arms, his heart bleeding for her plight. He coaxes her gently, telling her that he'll buy her new dresses later. I can only curl up on the ground while hacking up blood. But Dad just thinks I'm playing the pity card. He commands his men to throw me into the basement. Apparently, I can only be released once I've learned to stay stationary when I'm supporting Callie. As I clutch my broken ribs, I feel my tears flowing down my face as well as the blood from my injuries. I'm sorry, Dad. Next time, I will definitely not move a muscle, just like a corpse.