Good Bye Days

My three-year-old daughter was playing in the room, and she suddenly fell from the window of the room and died. In my past life, I held her lifeless body after learning the news, crying so hard I thought I would never stop. But when my husband rushed back, he slapped me across the face without a second thought. "How could you be so cruel? You actually threw her out of the window—she was only three!" I was too stunned to react. Later, my husband and my best friend teamed up and testified that I had thrown my daughter from the window because I had an argument with my husband. I was cyberbullied and labeled the "evil mom". Amid the public hatred and the pain of losing my daughter, I jumped to prove my innocence. Even in death, I still didn't understand. My daughter had been fine playing in the room—how did she fall out of the window? When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day she fell.

My daughter gets into an accident and needs to leave town for an operation. My husband is the pilot of the flight that takes her there. However, instead of calling him, I head straight to the airport and ask the ground staff for help. In my past life, I begged and pleaded with my husband for help. He arranged a seat for our daughter and flew the plane there. Because of that, he missed the chance to send his childhood sweetheart to the hospital, and she died in labor. My husband disappeared for two months after that. He later returned, acting like nothing had happened. However, one day, he poisoned the whole family. "If not for you forcing me to get on that flight, I could've taken her to the hospital. She would've given birth, and she wouldn't have died. You guys are the ones who deserve to die!" He pushed me off the 20th floor. When I open my eyes again, I'm taken back to the day my daughter gets into an accident. This time, my husband successfully takes his childhood sweetheart to the hospital. But why does he later regret it?

My wife, Charlene Weber, has taken me to the Scumbag Court. If I'm found guilty, all my assets will be taken from me, and I'll face 10 years of imprisonment. Charlene, on the other hand, will get to marry her ideal man—Joel Quinlan—as she wishes. If I'm acquitted of all charges, Charlene will be made to divorce me without alimony. She'll also be cursed with bad luck and disfigured so badly she'll be the ugliest woman in the world. Conversely, I'll be given 10 million dollars in reparations and gain a lifetime's worth of good luck. Everyone is advising me to admit to my mistakes, but only because Charlene has always been a virtuous, devoted wife in their eyes. They think that there must surely be some complicated grievances between us at the moment. However, they are unaware that I've been reborn. This time, I'm going to tear off Charlene's mask of hypocrisy.

My boyfriend and his godsister were caught by the vice squad at a scandalous party. When I went to the police station to bail him out, he was disheveled, his exposed skin marked with dried candle wax and whiplash scars. His godsister, Sonia, clung to him, sobbing into his arms. “The light in Sonia’s house was broken. It was too dark, so I went to accompany her,” he said. I couldn’t help but wonder, Did he accompany her all the way to the police station too? In the past, I would’ve demanded an explanation, but I was too tired now—too drained to argue. Without a word, I signed the papers. The vice squad officer looked at me and asked, “Are you Anthony Leeman’s family?” I shook my head. “No, I’m not familiar with him. Just a colleague.” Lowering my gaze, I typed out a message to my father: [I agree to get married. Give me three days, and I’ll marry him.]

My wife—Nancy Valente—had been "missing" for three months after some fake skiing accident. I spotted her at a bar. She was draped over Finley Bennett's shoulder, laughing like she hadn't wrecked my life. "Good thing you came up with this plan. I almost forgot what freedom felt like." Her crew kept clinking glasses, asking when she planned to pop back up. She glanced down. "Maybe in a week. I'll show up once he's lost his mind." I stayed in the shadows, watching her bask in her little escape act. Then I grabbed my phone and called a buddy at the Vital Records Office.

My mother, Mariana Heimann, has terminal cancer. She wants me to get married before she dies. It takes 57 days of me pleading with my boyfriend, Hayden Weatherford, before he finally agrees to marry me. On the day we agreed to register our marriage, he's a no-show even after the city hall staff have clocked off from work. At the same time, Hayden's childhood friend, Scarlett Needham, shows off a photo of her and Hayden holding up their marriage certificate. It's captioned, "Time sure flies. In another week, we'll have been married for two months." It dawns on me that Hayden and Scarlett were married on the day I first begged him to marry me. I receive a message from Hayden on my phone. He apologizes, "Scarlett's family members were forcing her into marriage, Lucy. I couldn't stand by and watch her suffer, pressured into marrying a stranger. We'll get divorced in a week, after which you and I can get married." … One week later, I send Hayden a message as he waits for me in front of the city hall, dressed in a suit. "We'll never meet again, Hayden."

My younger twin sister, Emma Lawson, is everyone's favorite because she is sickly. A snowstorm traps us on the mountain and the rescue helicopter arrives with room for only one more. I have terminal cancer and am ready to let Emma take my place. Then she suddenly clutches her head and cries that she feels dizzy. My whole family rushes to her side and together they push her into the cabin. My husband, Leon Ziegler, touches my fractured arm and says, "Sarah, you'll have to wait for the next helicopter." My daughter, Daria Ziegler, even throws a snowball at me. "Aunt Emma is sicker than you. Stop trying to take her spot." Only when the helicopter takes off do I see Emma pressed against the window, smugly sticking her tongue out. She has been lying the whole time. When I am finally rescued, the doctors tell me I have three days left to live. I decide to trade everything I own for a small piece of my family's affection.

A few days before my postpartum period ended, I found two plane tickets to Mirelia tucked inside Daryl’s wallet. I was secretly delighted. I thought he had planned a surprise for me. But on the very day I was supposed to recover, he told me that his company had suddenly sent him on a business trip. I tossed and turned all night, unable to sleep—only to see his first love post on social media. [Finally fulfilled our promise to kiss at Saint Vyron Cathedral. Thank you, God. After all this time, it’s still you.] The photo showed the two of them holding hands and kissing. I didn’t confront him right away. Instead, I turned to look at my sleeping daughter beside me, then picked up my phone. [Dad, I've made up my mind. I'll take over the family business.]

"Dad, Mom, I've decided—I'll go through with the marriage arrangement with the Kingston family. I'll be back by the end of the month." Daphne Wharton made the decision in the middle of a camping trip with Luke Hardy. She curled into herself, pulling her scarf higher against the chill. For a moment, there was only silence on the other end of the line. Then, her mother's voice came through, thick with tears. "Daphne, we know this isn't fair to you. Our company is struggling, and the Kingston family is willing to help—but only if you marry their son. We've failed you as parents…" Her father let out a heavy sigh beside her mother. Daphne listened, her gaze unfocused. A faint, bitter smile tugged at her lips. "It's okay, Mom, Dad. This is what I should do. I'll be back in fifteen days—when their son returns to the country."

After a car crash, I wake up without a scratch, but my girlfriend, Elena Reed, has amnesia. What shocks me the most is that I can hear my late grandma's voice in my head. "That shameless woman is feigning amnesia to trick Rowan! If I were still alive, I'd break her legs myself!" My eyes fly wide in disbelief. Grandma's voice keeps raging in my head. "Rowan, in your past life, Elena ruined you. You had miserable years with her and nearly died of a heart attack while she was out celebrating Miles' birthday! "Your grandpa is about to have you choose a bride. Don't pick Elena. Pick Piper. She's a good woman!" A second later, Grandpa and the elders walk into the hospital room and spread out photos of heiresses from the four great families, asking me to choose a bride. I don't even hesitate. I choose Piper Alden, the one I've been butting heads with for as long as I can remember. I've always listened to Grandma. If she says that Elena doesn't love me, then I don't want her anymore.