Rebirth

When my girlfriend, Cherry Jameson, receives her HIV positive test report, she finally realizes what her childhood friend, Neil Sawyer, meant by "life-and-death". In the previous life, after Cherry fainted from her latest anemic episode, Neil insisted on donating his blood to her. I did everything I could to stop the procedure from happening. I told Cherry that Neil had been diagnosed with HIV a long time ago, so she'd get infected if she were to receive his blood. But Cherry refused to believe me. Neil broke down in tears, saying that he never had a girlfriend, to begin with. Then, he went to the rooftop and pretended to jump so that he could prove himself with his death. But he accidentally slipped and fell, resulting in his actual death. In order to avenge Neil, Cherry worked with her classmates to kidnap me. She was the one who personally strangled me to death with her hands. Angrily, she roared at me, "Your slanderous lies killed Neil! I want you to pay with your own life!" When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day Cherry is supposed to receive a blood transfusion from Neil. As I look at Cherry, who's in the middle of receiving blood from Neil, I just smile faintly. It's just HIV. She'll be fine.

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's protégé boasted she could disarm bombs blindfolded, relying on her so-called intuition. Her reckless misjudgment triggered a bomb's secondary detonation sequence, endangering an entire building. I intervened, using the dangerous liquid nitrogen condensation method to save the day. As a result, Rita Smith was removed from frontline duties and placed under investigation. Patrick Munoz tried to defend her, but I stopped him cold. "If you back her now, you won't just fail to save her. You'll be dragged down with her." Crushed by the pressure, Rita staged an accident that killed her, leaving a letter blaming him for abandoning her in her hour of need. He said nothing, only preserving her letter in his study. Years later, he became a nationally renowned bomb disposal expert. During a terrorist attack, I was strapped to a timed explosive. He arrived to defuse it but repeated Rita's fatal mistake. As the timer ticked down, he gave a bitter laugh. "Rita was just nervous back then. If I'd supported her, she'd be a hero today." The bomb detonated, leaving nothing of me behind. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the point when he tried to defend Rita. He didn't know that the building housed the nation's top-secret core server.

When my best friend and I went for prenatal checkups, we both found out we were carrying babies with the super-male gene. The doctor advised us to terminate the pregnancies. I immediately went through with it, but my best friend was hesitant. I kindly advised her, "This child will ruin your life someday." She reluctantly agreed. Later, her husband cheated on her and tried to justify it. "If you can't give me a son, why shouldn't someone else?" Her husband's mistress chimed in, "What's the point of a woman who can't bear sons?" As a result, she blamed everything on me. When I wasn't paying attention, she poisoned my water and watched me die. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of our prenatal checkup.

After being reborn, I quietly cut all ties with my husband, Nathaniel Cole. I go to work alone. I watch movies alone. Even when I cook, I only make enough for one. All because in my last life, I had married him only to be neglected for 40 years. At the very end, he coldly pulled the oxygen tube from me, spitting out words filled with hatred. "If I had a choice, I never would've married you!" I died in pain, filled with resentment. When I open my eyes again, my mother is speaking to me and my sister. "According to the marriage agreement, one of you has to marry Nathaniel. Which one of you will it be?" I'm just about to refuse when my sister, Catherine Brown, steps forward. She shoots me a contemptuous glance and says, "Mom, I'll marry him."

Nicholas’s first love was diagnosed with HIV at our hospital. I broke doctor-patient confidentiality and told him. Unfortunately, he thought I was lying. He not only accused me of killing a patient and got me convicted, and he even spiked my milk with abortion pills. At eight weeks pregnant, I bled heavily. I begged him for help, but he just walked away and sneered, "Finally, no one can stop me from being with Shereen." When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day his first love was diagnosed with HIV. This time, I didn’t tell him. Instead, I broke up with him. Since he loves his first love so much, I’ll gladly step aside.

Back when I was 15, I gave my extraordinary luck to Whitney Johnson. Six months later, her wealthy parents showed up at the orphanage and took her home. At 18, I stopped her from dating the school heartthrob, who later died in a car accident. Whitney blamed me for his death. She tore up my admission ticket for college entrance exam, made me miss the test, and completely ruined my life. I ended up homeless, yet it wasn't enough for her. She pushed me into the river and drowned me. Now, as I open my eyes, I realize I've been reborn and returned to when I was 18. This time, I'll never give her my extraordinary luck again.

My name is Chase Murphy. I've been married to Jessica Stanton for three years. After she tells me that she's infertile, she brings home two children from an orphanage. I raise them as my own, investing everything I have into their lives. But in return, they push me down the stairs without a second thought. "Now our real dad can finally be with Mom." In that split second, the truth crashes down on me. These aren't just any children—they belong to Jessica and her first love, Troy McPoland. When I open my eyes again, I find myself transported back to the day Jessica first introduces the children into our lives. This time, I'm done being the fool raising someone else's family.

After my hundredth disastrous blind date, my best friend and I made a bold decision: we would have children without husbands. She chose sperm from a brilliant PhD donor. I chose a donor with an eight-nation mixed heritage. Later, the PhD donor from Kingsford University was diagnosed with low sperm motility and decided he wanted to marry my friend, Melissa Shaw. She agreed. Whenever she saw me going to my prenatal checkups alone, Melissa would wrap her arm around her husband and mock me. "You're destined to be alone," she sneered. "You can't even find a man to marry you. My husband just launched a major national research project. His future is limitless." What she did not know was that the father of my child was the Prince of Dubaria. He took me back to his country and made me his princess. The jewels I wore were so heavy they practically weighed me down. However, after she saw the yacht I posted on social media, Melissa suddenly called me in tears. "I don't know what happened," she sobbed. "My husband's project was suddenly suspended. We can barely afford baby formula for our child." She said she wanted to make up and even asked if I would be her child’s godmother. However, the moment I stepped through her door, she raised a chainsaw and hacked me to death. "Why do you get to live a better life than me?" she screamed. "Just because you chose better sperm?!" When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day my best friend and I first decided to have children without husbands.

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.