Rebirth Synonym

In my previous life, I had been suffering from a terminal illness when I won the lottery.  To my shock, Mommy advised me to forgo treatment and leave the winnings to my younger brother, David, to use for his marriage.  I refused to become an accessory to his future, so, behind my parents’ backs, I donated every bit of it to an orphanage.  When they found out, they were furious. They called me a heartless, ungrateful wretch.  After severing ties with me, they abandoned me at the hospital. On David's birthday, they gathered as a family and celebrated him while I was left to die in the hospital, utterly alone. When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back on the day I had won the lottery.  Recalling the pain and betrayal of my past life, I resolved to leave my parents that very day.  But to my surprise, when I returned home, they had completely changed.  They doted on me and showered me with affection.

I had been married to my husband for 27 years, but the love between us had faded long ago. Even our children could see it, and they were the ones who tried to persuade me to get a divorce. "Mom, you and Dad are still young. You still have time to pursue your own life." "Yeah, Mom. You shouldn't force yourself to live like this anymore. We'd support you if you got divorced." With their encouragement, my husband and I finally ended our marriage. My daughter even helped introduce me to someone new. Not long after the divorce, I began a new relationship. But just as I was preparing to remarry, my ex-husband suddenly sued me. He accused me of cheating during our marriage. My own children appeared in court and testified against me. They confirmed his accusations. No matter how hard I tried to explain, no one believed me. In the end, I walked away from the divorce with nothing. My new boyfriend and I were dragged through the mud online. [You shameless old woman. One foot in the grave and you're still chasing another man!] [At your age, you’re still getting divorced? Hope you and your little side piece stay together.] A few self-righteous, extremist internet vigilantes broke into my home. They tied my boyfriend and me to a bed, poured gasoline over us, and set us on fire. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the very day my children first tried to convince me to get a divorce.

Quentin Quandt—Shane Fuchner's uncle—killed himself. After he died, someone found a drawer stuffed with unsent love letters. Every single one had my name on it. So when life hit rewind and Mom asked if I wanted to marry Shane, my childhood friend, I said no. I picked Quentin. Here's the thing—I got reborn. Last time, I chose Shane. Huge mistake. He was hardly ever home after we got married. And when I started bleeding from a miscarriage, he ditched me because Ceryn Schuck—his first love—texted, [The power's out and I'm scared.] He didn't even hesitate. I died that night. So did the baby. And Shane? He didn't cry. Just whined that my death ruined his vacation plans with her. Then I woke up—right back at the moment Mom asked who I wanted to marry...

At the wedding, I immediately recognized that the woman under the veil wasn't Selene, but an impostor. But I still went through with the ceremony as if nothing was wrong. In my previous life, Selene had been forced to return and complete the wedding with me after I exposed the fake bride in front of everyone. That very night, however, her childhood sweetheart was rushed to the ICU with acute alcohol poisoning. When Selene heard the news, she didn't shed a tear. Instead, she cursed him, saying he got what he deserved. … After we married, Selene and I appeared to be a loving couple on the surface. I kept funneling money from my family to save her family business from collapse. But on our first anniversary, my wife—with not even a sliver of warmth in her eyes—tied me to a helicopter with her own hands. "If you hadn't forced me to come back and marry you that day, Chase wouldn't have ended up like that," she snarled. "What right do you have to live so happily? I'll make sure you feel the pain he went through before he died." She threw me from ten thousand yards up, and I hit the ground as nothing more than a broken heap of flesh. So, this time, I pretended to know nothing and went through with the wedding alongside the fake bride. I wanted to see just how Selene would manage to save the crumbling Liraine Co. without the Schreiber family's support.

On my 28th birthday, I announced that I was pregnant. But my husband told everyone that he was sterile. Together with my best friend, they said that this was proof that I cheated on him. I tried defending myself, but in the end, I, along with my baby, died while burning with hate. When I reopened my eyes, I returned to the moment three hours before my death.

Grandpa Arthur Bennett was taken to court after being accused of using violence and coercion to commit rape. Yet I lounged at home, idly scrolling on my phone while watching a livestream. In my previous life, determined to uncover the truth, I had volunteered to serve as the plaintiff’s lawyer and investigated the case in depth. I had even contacted my brother, Ethan Bennett, praised as a genius lawyer, and urged him to defend Grandpa. But he believed the story I told was absurd—a lie meant to stop him, my best friend, and my mom from going on their trip to Moonlake together—and he blocked all my contact information. In the end, Grandpa was sentenced to life in prison and suffered a fatal heart attack in the courtroom. My family believed I had deliberately helped the plaintiff and disregarded my own kin. They blamed Grandpa’s conviction and death on me. When my Mom returned and saw Grandpa’s body, she collapsed in grief. Overcome with emotion, she got into her car and drove it straight into me, killing me. When I awoke with a start, I realized I had returned to three hours before Grandpa was taken to court.

Our bridal room was set on fire, and my husband, a firefighter, was grievously wounded while trying to save me. I sent him to be saved at the hospital where Winnie Sloan, his childhood friend worked, but the surgery ended up being a failure, and my husband passed away. After the announcement that my husband was deceased, Winnie told me that his dying wish was that he wanted a child. Hearing that, I powered through my grief and used the sperm he had previously frozen to conceive a child through IVF, raising my son to be enrolled in the most prestigious university in the area. On the day of the celebration party, my son kicked me out and invited my husband and Winnie onto the stage as his 'biological parents', and that's when I found out that my husband had faked his death. All those years ago, he and Winnie had swapped out the embryo I'd conceived in secret. The son I had painstakingly given birth to and raised turned out to have no blood relation to me whatsoever. Meanwhile, my husband had been enjoying a luxurious life overseas with Winnie while waiting for a chance to reconnect with his son. In my rage, I confronted them and demanded an explanation, but ended up dying because they pushed me down the stairs. When I came to, I was back to the day of the fire.

Madam Pratt, my mother-in-law, was in critical condition after a car accident, desperately needing surgery. However, as the lead surgeon, I—Lilianne Davis—stood by, casually scrolling through short videos on my phone. My best friend, Tiffany Owens, who was also a doctor, was far more anxious than I was. She grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the operating room. “Lily, why are you still stalling? Hurry up and save her!” I took a step back, clutching my stomach in pain as her face twisted in shock. “I have cramps so bad I can’t even stand. You do it.” In my last life, the moment I heard about Madam Pratt’s accident, I had swallowed a painkiller and rushed into surgery, working for hours to stabilize her. I had barely stepped away from the operating table when alarms blared. “Lilianne, what have you done? The patient is experiencing acute hemolysis!” “Call the family now!” Gareth Pratt stormed in, his face twisted with rage. He slapped me hard in the face. “Lil, you’re a professional surgeon, yet you gave my mother the wrong blood transfusion?!” I froze, reaching for Madam Pratt’s medical report to explain, only to find that the A-type blood I had seen before had somehow changed to B-type. The medical board arrived, and a blood test revealed traces of hallucinogens in my system. “Unbelievable! Taking illegal substances before surgery? That’s a cardinal sin for a doctor!” In the chaos, Emma Pratt, Gareth’s teenage sister, grabbed a scalpel and stabbed me multiple times. Blood gushed from my arteries, and I collapsed in a pool of crimson. As my vision faded, I couldn’t understand what had happened. I had never taken illegal drugs. Besides, I was absolutely certain of Madam Pratt’s blood type. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the moment right before stepping into the operating room.

My husband and I spend 50 loving years together. On the day of our golden wedding anniversary, someone pushes me down a flight of stairs. As I drift in and out of consciousness, I miraculously regain my hearing. I lost it in the process of saving my husband when we were younger. I hear my husband say to my son, "You shouldn't have dirtied your hands." "How long more are you going to put up with her, Dad? Calista doesn't have much longer to wait." My husband sighs heavily. After a moment, I feel someone remove my oxygen tube. I descend into boundless darkness. When I open my eyes again, I've been taken back to the 80s—before I married my husband. The only difference is that I can hear this time.

After eight years together, I took a hit for my surgeon boyfriend. Milton Woodard vowed I could ask for anything. Everyone assumed I'd seize the chance to propose, locking him down for good. Instead, I looked him in the eye and said, "Let's break up." Then I walked away without a backward glance. Milton smirked, betting with his buddies that I'd come crawling back in under three days, calling me a desperate lapdog chasing his attention. He was dead wrong because I'd been reborn. In my last life, I proposed to him and won. Overwhelmed by the news, his first love threw herself off a rooftop and killed herself. Milton unleashed his grief-fueled rage on me. On our wedding night, he slashed my face and locked me in a dank, claustrophobic basement. When I got pregnant, he force-fed me supplements until the baby grew too big for me to deliver. I hemorrhaged, torn apart, and died in agony on the birthing table. Now, reborn on the day I saved his life, I was done playing his fool.