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To save my wife, my lungs were pierced by a knife, leaving lasting consequences. When I fell ill and struggled to breathe, she said I was dramatic and went on a business trip with her childhood friend. When she returned, I found a man's underwear in her suitcase that did not belong to me. I calmly made the call: "Director, I've made up my mind. I'm going to assist in Avrika." Later, at the airport, she bent down, publicly lowering her head and begging for my forgiveness.

It was the day Jessica Goldenfold got the International Wealth Club Charity Award. My doctor pronounced me dead, for I could not afford the artificial heart needed for my survival. The show's host asked Jessica to call the one whom she had the most regret about. She called my number. I picked it up. She asked, "Do you ever regret leaving me for money?" I stared at the obscene bill for the artificial heart. Then, I chuckled. "You're a rich girl, Jessica. How about a loan of 30 grand?" She killed the call. I watched her telling everyone in front of the cameras, "No more regrets." She had no idea at all. She had no idea that I was the one who gave my heart to her when she had heart failure. I did it behind her back.

Evonne Shannon was a poor student mother sponsored. She was also the crush I had been courting for a long time. Wanting to allow her to shine, I gave up my place in the piano competition for her. However, she glared at me with disdain for deciding this on my own. She then instantly turned around and handed the registration form to her boyfriend, Angelo Zambrano, and said, "Ange, only you deserve this competition." Evonne liked sports cars, so I begged my mother to buy her a limited-edition McLaren supercar. But in return, Evonne mocked me and called me shallow. "Don't think I'll accept you just because I'm accepting the car, Chase Shannon. You've never understood me." With my help, Evonne got to put on a facade of a mysterious billionaire's daughter. But the moment she got money from me, she turned around and went on a romantic getaway with Angelo. I thought of Evonne as my everything and even asked my mother to arrange for her to join the family company. Within half a year, she was promoted to a core team member. She then conspired with Angelo to drain the company dry and even forced me to my death. "What else can you do besides insult me with money and a materialistic lifestyle, Chase? You're the most disgusting obstacle on my path to success. Only when you're dead can I marry Ange," she declared. I was heartbroken when I heard this, and that was when Evonne pushed me off the sidewalk and into traffic. Immediately after that incident, I was reincarnated to the day I bought Evonne a piano. She was glaring at me with disdain. "If you don't want to buy it, just say so. There's no need to humiliate me like this." I let out a dismissive scoff. "Am I the one who's humiliating you, or are you the shameless one? You beg for food but complain that it's cold. You're worse than those stray dogs on the streets. At least they show gratitude after getting scraps."

On Father's Day, I received a heartwarming gift. My one-year-old son called me Dad for the first time. But moments later, he convulsed, foamed at the mouth, and died before we could reach the hospital. My wife was shattered, and I was devastated. The doctors couldn't identify the cause of his death. Three years later, my wife emerged from her grief, and we welcomed our second child. But the moment this child called me Dad, they, too, died instantly. To spare her further pain, I suggested adoption. Yet, even our adopted children met the same fate. Unable to bear the losses, my wife divorced me. Everyone said I was cursed, never meant to be a father. Defiant, I remarried and had another child, vowing never to let them call me Dad. For years, we adhered to this rule. But when our daughter turned four, she came home from preschool, eager to celebrate Father's Day. Holding a card, she read aloud, "Dad."

At our engagement party, my sister said she saw my fiancee at the hospital for a prenatal checkup. Inga Lane looked at me nervously, then smiled and handed the test results to our parents. “I’m one month pregnant.” Both families were over the moon. I was the only one who could not smile. After everyone left, Inga said, “I’m sorry. I’m pregnant. I was drunk that night. The baby is Xion’s.” I clenched my fists and tried to stay calm. “Then, why did you come to the engagement today?” She leaned toward me and said, “Don’t worry. I’m not going to marry Xion. He has cancer. He doesn’t have much time left. “We grew up together. He’s the only child in his family. I just wanted to give him a child to carry on his family line.”

I poured my heart and soul into securing a big deal for my wife's law firm. But when I stepped out for a quick coffee break, she fired me on the spot, claiming I'd gone AWOL for too long. "New company rule: ten minutes away from your desk, and you're out. You were gone for ten minutes and five seconds. Now grab your stuff and leave." I sneered and flipped the script, turning over proof of her siphoning funds to buy her intern boy a Maybach to the police. She thought she could burn bridges with me, but this bridge didn't crumble so easily.

On the day we decided to get a divorce, I saw Miranda’s account book while I was packing up my stuff. Aside from our daily expenses, Miranda had also set up a scoring sheet for me. Miranda had taken notes of all the things I had done ever since we started dating. Some of them were such miniscule things that even I had forgotten. She took note of them all with a red pen, and she scored them by either awarding me points or deducting them. However, the further down the sheet, the more points were deducted. In the end, I saw Miranda add one line in black ink. [He’s no longer the Henry Jones who used to love me: -100]

My wife, Lindsey Kelsey, suffers from an aversion to intimacy. For ten years of marriage, she pushed me away again and again. Then, on our anniversary, she abandoned me and, in front of the crowd, kissed another man with reckless passion before the two of them walked hand in hand into a luxury hotel. Afterward, Lindsey brazenly declared that a real man should be magnanimous, not petty. Magnanimous? Then I wish them both eternal bliss—may they be bound so tightly they can never break free from one another. Later, I handed Lindsey the divorce papers with a blank expression. I was determined to walk away from her. But Lindsey went mad when she realized she couldn't find me anymore.

I learn that I've "died" after returning from a business trip. First, my daughter's teacher stops me from bringing my daughter home. She says, "Eloise comes from a single-parent family. Her father's the one who's always picked her up after class." Later, I discover that the password to my house's main door has been changed. To my surprise, my daughter's teacher can enter at will.

On the day of the SAT exam, my girlfriend’s childhood friend, Benedict Casper, forgot his admission ticket at home. She insisted on retrieving it for him, but I begged her not to go. In the end, Benedict missed his final chance for taking the exam and, overwhelmed by despair, he jumped to his death. Years later, my girlfriend, Ella Simpson, and I graduated from Whitmore Institute of Technology, landed high-paying jobs, and built a picture-perfect marriage. But on the anniversary of Benedict’s death, she stabbed me repeatedly, her voice trembling with rage, “You killed him. If I’d gotten his admission ticket, he would’ve never jumped.” When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of the exams. Ella’s frantic voice rang in my ears, “I have to go back, Dominic. I need to get Benedict’s ticket!” This time, I smiled and said, “Go ahead. Be careful on the way.”