Rebirth Vs Reincarnation

During my night shift, I refused to help my adopted sister administer fluids to her patient. After the wrong drug is given, I watch a seven-year-old boy die after he suffers an allergic reaction right before my eyes. In my previous life, the boy's family stormed the nurses' station after I'd just finished administering his IV medication. The next thing I knew, I was violently beaten up. "You poisoned my grandchild by giving him the wrong medicine!" But the fluid I introduced into his bloodstream was a simple glucose solution. It couldn't have led to such a disastrous outcome. When I was on the brink of passing out, someone called the police. I thought help had finally arrived, but I was sorely mistaken. The police officer—my brother—pinned me to the ground. "We found your prints on the drug vial. You're a murderer." Then, my childhood friend, a forensic pathologist, held up an autopsy report and accused me of the same crime. "The patient's time of death is around 5:00 am. That's the same time you administered drugs into his system." Unable to prove my innocence, I was ultimately beaten to death by the boy's enraged family members. My brother and my childhood friend had always loved me. Even on the brink of death, I couldn't understand why they would do this to me. Now, I open my eyes and find myself back on the night it all began.

On the day Fiona Starr and Mark Zimmer tied the knot, his childhood friend jumped off the Starr family's thirty-story apartment and was reduced to pieces. The wedding wasn't called off, but in the ensuing three years, Mark's poker face became even more creepy, even though he would do everything Fiona asked. Then, when Fiona was three months pregnant, she was told that her father had gone missing. But instead of taking her to file a police report, Mark took her up the peak of the mountain, where Fiona saw her father. His whole body was swollen and bleeding everywhere, and he was barely alive as he lay on the ground. There were puddles of his blood everywhere, after someone tied him to a car trunk and dragged him up along the mountain road. That was when Mark gave Fiona the same treatment, even though she was pregnant with his child. As his car dragged her up and down the mountain, her legs were reduced to bloody stumps, but she didn't die there. So she locked her up in a basement in the company of rats that nibbled and devoured her legs. She despaired, her mind breaking until she eventually stopped breathing too… But she opened her eyes again and found herself returning to the day before she married Mark, whom everyone called the Starr family's live-in son-in-law. Smiling through her tears, she told herself that she wouldn't choose him again in this life.

As soon as I walk out of the college entrance exam venue, the police bring me to an interrogation room for interrogation purposes. There, the officers are able to dig out the tools used for cheating in the exams from my clothes. Then, they arrest an accomplice who has helped out with the cheating process in a nearby hotel. As soon as the accomplice sees me, he claims that I'm the one who has hired his services. After that, he gives a confession on the entire cheating process and how we conducted this transaction. All the evidence is present. Soon, news of me cheating on the college entrance exam is spread throughout the Internet. My parents try to defend my innocence, but they ultimately fail. In the end, they die gruesome deaths at home due to cyberbullying. As for me, I suffer from a cardiac arrest shortly after receiving the bad news of their deaths, and I die soon after. I still fail to understand what has happened, even when I draw my last breath. After all, I've never done anything, but why is it that the evidence all points to me being the cheater? When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day before the college entrance exams are set to begin.

My father bought twin brothers from the black market to serve as bodyguards for me and my sister. My sister chose the tall, strong older brother, leaving me with the frail, mute younger one. Feeling sorry for him, I kept him close, seeking doctors for his silence and maintaining distance to respect his apparent OCD. I thought trauma had shaped him that way. But when our father's enemies kidnapped us, he abandoned me without hesitation, choosing to die shielding my sister. In his final moments, he spoke for the first time. "You finally see me." To me, he said, "In the next life, please don't choose me." I realized then that he was neither mute nor afflicted with OCD. His silence and aversion were directed solely at me. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day we chose the bodyguards. This time, I'd grant his wish.

The day my brother, Chester Rodney, came to the orphanage to take me home, my boyfriend Dominic Huxley looked at me coldly and said, "If you choose to acknowledge your birth family, we're over." I knew he had his pride—he could never accept the difference in our social standing. So, for him, I turned my back on the family I had yearned for my whole life. In the decades that followed, I toiled without complaint, saving every cent to help him rise to success. By the time I was not yet fifty, overwork had worn me down. Lying on my deathbed, my breathing shallow and weak, I watched Dominic on television. He was now an acclaimed scientist, just awarded the nation's highest research honor. Tears welled in his eyes as he thanked another woman. "All these years," he said, "I never felt worthy of Alicia. But now, maybe I can use this award as the prologue to a love I've owed her for decades." The "Alicia" he spoke of was the woman mistakenly switched with me at birth—the false heiress the Rodney family raised as their own. The camera zoomed out. Alicia Rodney stood radiant, graceful, and perfectly preserved by years of luxury, blushing as she accepted the trophy. "I waited for you for decades," she said sweetly, "but marriage is still something I'll need to ask my brother about." Chester, who had long taken over the family, looked at her with an indulgent tenderness tinged with something unspoken. "I was adopted by our uncle back then for one reason—to protect Alicia. Making the only princess of the Rodney family happy has always been my life's mission." Only then did I realize—everything I thought I had chosen freely, every sacrifice I made without regret, was nothing but a trap, carefully woven by two men, all for Alicia. The betrayal pierced my heart. I died without peace. But when I opened my eyes again, I was back on the very day Chester came to take me home from the orphanage. I glanced past the two men eyeing me with subtle disdain. Without hesitation, I stepped into the car. "Take me home," I said. This time, I'd send whoever stole my life back to the gutter they slithered from.

My wife’s childhood friend, Peter White, needed surgery. He requested that I perform the operation as the lead surgeon. I followed every medical protocol exactly and did my best to save him. However, after being discharged, he accused me of practicing medicine illegally. He claimed I had made him permanently disabled. I asked my wife to back me up. But instead, she said to me, “I told you not to act recklessly, but you wouldn’t listen. Now look at what has happened!” The hospital security footage even showed that I did not follow the standard surgical procedure. I had no way to defend myself. In the end, I was stabbed to death by Peter’s wife, Janet White, who had been financially supporting him. Even during my dying moments, I could not understand why the surveillance showed that I was not following the medical protocol! When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day Peter came in for his initial examination.

I find out I'm about two months pregnant before my wedding. Luke Logan drunkenly caresses my belly and half-jokes, "I'm not ready to be a father, Summer. Can we not keep the baby?" My heart is calm. I say softly, "Sure." In my past life, I insisted on keeping the child. Meanwhile, Riley Richards had an accidental miscarriage, making it difficult for her to conceive again. Luke held a grudge against me for that and treated me coldly after we married. As for the son that I put one foot in the coffin to bring into this world, he, too, cried and fussed. He wanted Riley to be his mother. Later, I got into an accident and suffered from significant blood loss. However, Luke and our son merely hurried past me to be with Riley as she went into labor. I slowly bled to death on the floor above, while Luke and our son celebrated the birth of Riley's child on the floor below. Now that I've been reborn, I won't lose sight of myself and take the wrong path again. I call Eric Nottingham. "I'll join the expedition team to Glacia."

Cory Sullivan, my ten-year-old son, joins a swimming class organized by his school. A bunch of his fellow students end up pinning him to the drain of the swimming pool. I spot the streak of red in the water and completely lose my mind. I immediately dash over to save Cory, but by the time I do, his face has turned swollen and blue from the suction. Blood trickles from his mouth. He's no longer breathing. Andy Webster, the ringleader of the trio who hurt Cory, arrogantly declares that he won't be criminally prosecuted because he's a minor. "So what if I did it? He started getting on my nerves ages ago! Now that he's dead, no one else can compete with me to be the top in our class." Andy's father, Greg Thompson, condescendingly throws me a debit card. "There's 100 thousand dollars in there. That should be enough to make up for your son's worthless life." Outrage, I demand justice, but my wife, Sheryl Lowe, stops me. "Andy's just a kid himself. Are you going to force someone else's kid to lose his freedom just because your own son is dead?" I stop at nothing in the pursuit of justice, but Andy simply gets sent to a juvenile detention center. That's nowhere near enough for me. Eventually, I lose all hope. I lie down at Cory's grave and swallow a bottle of sleeping pills. Suddenly, my eyes open again. I've returned to the day I took Cory to the swimming pool. I immediately drag him off to take him back home before anything happens, but alas, a young boy still ends up losing his life at the pool.

My boyfriend, Sam Gibson, had a childhood best friend named Tina Lincoln. She was a star medical student. On the day Sam and I were supposed to get our marriage license, Tina took one look at the tight top I was wearing and flat-out claimed I had been sleeping around for years. She pointed at my chest with obvious disgust. “If men hadn’t been all over you, there’s no way your breasts would be this big.” Sam believed her completely. He started cursing at me, calling me a slut who had sleep with anyone, and refused to go through with the marriage license. I tried over and over to explain, but Tina just sneered at me. “People may be more open-minded these days, but that doesn’t mean you can sell your body and make your chest that big.” She used me as some kind of “example,” started a livestream to lecture people online, and exposed all my personal information. After that, strangers kept sending me disgusting, harassing messages, asking how much I charged for a night. Some even followed me and tried to force themselves on me. I begged her to clear things up for me, but she just shrugged and said, “If you never did that kind of thing, why would people be asking you?” In the end, I was assaulted and killed. And she went on to become a nationally famous influencer doctor, gaining fame and money at the same time. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day I was supposed to get my marriage license with Sam.

After my husband's brother died, he took Miranda, his widowed sister-in-law in. He claimed that he would give me his love—but gave all his money to her. He said that since she had no official status, being with him would make her the subject of gossip, so he took her with him and left me behind in the countryside. Every month, he wrote me three love letters, yet sent all his allowance to her. During the famine, she and her two children sat in a warm little house eating well, while my two children died before I could return from selling my blood. One froze to death, the other starved to death. Later, my husband finally came back, but he didn’t shed a single tear for the children. Instead, he told me he wanted a divorce. "Nathalie, to apply for housing, we need a marriage certificate. It hasn’t been easy for Miranda all these years. I want to give her a home. Don’t worry, even if I marry her, I’ll still divorce her afterward—because you’re the only one I love." In the end, I was devastated and threw myself into the icy river. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day my children were about to die. This time, I shook them awake, ready to go reclaim everything that was rightfully mine.