Medical Rebirth

Even knowing that wailing at an Eravalen aristocratic funeral was considered disrespectful to the deceased, I let my husband's adopted sister make a scene anyway. In my previous life, my husband, Robert Baker, had a distant relative among the Eravalen aristocracy who passed away. A lawyer informed him that he stood to inherit the estate and invited him to attend the funeral. His adopted sister, Mia Carter, insisted on tagging along to see how the privileged few in another country lived. She wanted to rub shoulders with nobles and make herself look important, even planning to wail dramatically in front of everyone. I rushed to stop her. "Public mourning is taboo among Eravalen nobility. Forget inheriting anything. We'll all be thrown out!" Yet she burst into tears, accusing me of looking down on her and thinking she was not good enough to mingle with aristocrats. She stormed out and was killed by street thugs in a random attack. I thought Robert would fall apart, but he stayed silent through the entire funeral and collected his inheritance without a hitch. Six months later, on our wedding anniversary, he took me to the snowy mountains for a photoshoot. The moment we reached the peak, he shoved me into a sleeping bag and tied it shut. "If you hadn't blown everything out of proportion, Mia never would've run off and gotten herself shot." He buried me alive in the snow. I froze to death, and he used that aristocratic fortune to become the CEO of a publicly traded company. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day Mia insisted on wailing at the funeral.

My aunt has one leg amputated after getting into an accident. It's at this time that her beloved daughter chooses to leave the country. From that day onward, I care for my aunt like she's my own mother. We spend 15 years together. She's grateful for my care and promises she'll leave all her money to me after her death. However, my cousin returns to the country when my aunt is on the brink of death. My aunt goes back on her word and gives my cousin everything. She only gives me 50 thousand dollars as compensation for my "caretaking services". I've spent 15 years on her only to get 50 thousand dollars—it's such an insult. I'm so stunned by this that I trip and fall into a river. I drown. When I open my eyes, I've been taken back 15 years in time…

I hid behind a thick tree trunk and watched silently as a grizzly bear attacked my husband. In my previous life, I was a guide. I led my husband—an environmental photographer—and his female colleague into a nature reserve to film wildlife. While scouting the route, I discovered a nursing grizzly bear and immediately warned them not to take any photos and to retreat slowly. To my shock, they intentionally bumped into me, causing my right leg to be cut and bleed. The scent of blood enraged the bear, and it charged straight at me, sinking its massive jaws into my abdomen. After the bear left, my husband calmly stripped me of all my equipment. Then, wrapping his arms around his female colleague, he kissed her. He turned to me with a sinister smile creeping across his face. "Kate," he said, "I'll be honest. I never loved you. You're dying. Now, all your assets will be mine." I bled out and died. When I opened my eyes again, it was the morning of the day we entered the mountains.

My boss gives me 200 thousand dollars in cash so I can pay his workers their salaries. I leave the house to buy some envelopes to put the money in, but that's when my father lends the money to our neighbor so they can buy a house. I question him about it, but he says I know nothing about forging relationships. Even my mother and brother blame me for not keeping my things properly—they say I'm dumb for leaving money lying around when I know my father likes to lend money to others. Later, my boss fires me but doesn't call the cops. All he wants is for me to repay him. To do so, my father finds me a high-paying job. It's only when I get there that I realize I'm supposed to be an old man's housekeeper. On my first day there, he violates me. I want to call the cops, but my father tells me to be forgiving of him. After that, the old man's daughter thinks I seduced her father and has me beaten to death. When I open my eyes again, I'm back to the day my father lent money to our neighbor.

I'm eight months pregnant when I suddenly faint on the train. My husband panics and cries for help as he kneels beside me. An interning doctor hurries to me. She doesn't bother checking my condition before saying, "The patient needs to undergo a C-section! We have to get the baby out now, or it might die of suffocation!" Then, she slices me open with a fruit knife—she doesn't take any precautionary measures before doing so. She takes my child out. I'm in so much pain that I don't even have the strength to scream. My blood flows everywhere. Yet, a photo of her holding my baby while standing in a pool of blood goes viral. People call her the prettiest doctor alive. My husband and his family are eternally grateful to her. They don't go after her for causing my death; they even make her my child's godmother! Meanwhile, I'm given a simple cremation. No one cares about me. After my death, all my assets go to my husband and his family. Only then do I hear my husband and the doctor talking to each other, sounding smug. "This plan killed two birds with one stone. We got rid of that woman and made ourselves out to be heroes!" That's when I learn the interning doctor is my husband's junior from high school. They got together when he accompanied me to my prenatal checkups! She failed her internship, so my husband came up with this idea—he wanted to use my death to boost her reputation and help her! Even my child eventually died under their "care". When I open my eyes again, I'm taken back to the day we get on the train.

My mother-in-law, Teresa Hawke, said she was trapped inside her burning villa. I called my husband, Asher Jensen, begging him to save her. But he was too busy at some bar, flirting with his childhood sweetheart, Melanie Lanner. It wasn't until I begged him, over and over, that he finally went to save Teresa. But Melanie was snatched from that same bar, tortured, killed, and dumped. He acted like none of it mattered until I got pregnant. Then out of nowhere, he threw it all back on me, saying it was my fault. Asher pulled every string he could to bankrupt my family, driving Mom and Dad to leap to their deaths. Then he rounded up a gang of violent psychopaths and threw me in with them. I begged again and again, but he just watched me with that dead stare. "You'll suffer like Mel did before she died! She left this world in agony. Why should you get to live? That's not fair." 99 stab wounds—that was how many it took before I finally bled out and died. And then, I woke up, right back on the day Teresa screamed for help from inside that burning villa.

James Wesley has hated me for a decade after his childhood sweetheart passed away. He requests to be transferred to the frontier the day after we get married. I write him countless letters in those ten years to win back his favor, but his response is always the same. "If you truly regret it, why don't you hurry up and die?" However, after I am abducted, James storms the bandit's hideout by himself and saves me. He suffers multiple bullet wounds, but before he succumbs to his injuries, he uses the last of his strength to slap my hands away. "The thing I regret the most… in this life… is marrying you. If we get a second chance at life… please… don't bother me anymore." His mother, Felicia Axford, sounds regretful during the funeral. "It's all my fault, James. I shouldn't have forced you to marry her…" His father, Jeremiah Wesley, stares at me, his eyes burning with contempt. "You forced Emily to take her own life, and now you also caused my son's death. You're nothing but trouble, so you should just die!" Even Xavier Bowen, our troop commander, who was responsible for facilitating our marriage in the first place, shakes his head and sighs. "I shouldn't have played matchmaker. I let you down, Mr. Wesley." Everyone feels sympathetic toward James, including me. On the night I am discharged from the troop, I swallow some pesticide and die in the middle of an abandoned field. When I open my eyes again, I realize I have returned to the day before my marriage. This time, I am determined to fulfill everyone's wishes.

I accompany my husband, Michael Yates, to a stationed assignment on a remote island. Out at sea, a sudden storm hits. The ship capsizes and begins to sink. As the commanding officer, my husband gives the last life vest to his so-called godsister, Naomi Hollister. I don't cry or scream. I just watch silently as he carefully fastens the straps around her body. In my past life, I had clutched my pregnant belly and begged him for help. After a brief hesitation, he finally put the vest on me. But Naomi was swept away by the waves, and her body later washed up on shore. Only half of it remained. Michael insisted it wasn't my fault. He also said that saving me was his duty, both morally and professionally. He even took leave to stay by my side before I gave birth. But when my water broke in the dead of night, he pushed me into the sea. His eyes were bloodshot and burning with hatred. "Leah, if it weren't for you, Mimi would still be alive! Did you really have to force me to give you the vest when you were just pregnant? Couldn't you have waited a little longer? Why do you get to live? Go down there and die with her!" I drown, and fish tear my body apart. I die without even a full corpse left behind. And then, I open my eyes. I'm back on the day of the storm.

When the yacht begins to sink, Penelope Griffith chooses me to fill the last vacant spot on the lifeboat. I'm saved, but Arthur Johnson drowns before the second lifeboat reaches him. He disappears into the ocean, leaving only a corpse behind. Penelope pretends not to care and still marries me. Yet, she proceeds to trample all over me during our five years of marriage, blaming me for Arthur's death. When I can't take it anymore and ask for a divorce, she chooses to end both our lives. The next time I open my eyes, I realize that I've been transported back in time to the day of the yacht accident. I decide to forfeit my chance of survival this time, letting the man Penelope loves the most take my place.

"It hurts…" Joanna Horton clutched her swollen belly in agony, a deep, wrenching pain twisting through her that words couldn't describe. Terror filled her voice as she cried out, "It hurts so bad… Theo… please, save our baby…" But outside, there was only silence—except for the soft, steady sounds of prayers and chanting from the next room. That was where her monk husband, Theo Brook, was, praying for the soul of his long-dead first love. Ever since Sharon Cooper jumped off that building, Theo had been grief-stricken. He left everything behind and became a monk, never missing a single night of chanting for her. People said he had the heart of a saint, that he was devoted and had never stopped loving her. But they didn't know that just on the other side of that wall was Joanna—his lawfully wedded wife, the one he had once married in a grand ceremony. Joanna was burning up with fever, her eyes barely open, her face pale and tired. A few days ago, she had made Theo angry. Since then, no matter how much she cried out in pain, he ignored her. Another sharp wave of pain hit, and suddenly, a rush of blood spilled from between her legs. The baby inside her stopped moving. She knew then—her child was gone.