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The laundromat I regularly visit has been showing an odd fluctuation in its price lately. "This coat isn't easy to wash. We're probably the only store that's willing to clean this at a loss. The market price is 55 dollars per item, but I'll give you a discount and only ask for 200 dollars for four items." I look at the boss' mother, who's new at the laundromat. I'm a little pissed. Still, I hand her my membership card without saying anything. This laundromat is opposite my residential area, and they had a promotion during their opening. I topped up ten thousand dollars on the card because I pitied the owner for raising a child alone. Unexpectedly, the owner's mother looks at me and says sarcastically, "That dumb membership card means nothing to me—you have to pay me in cash. You youngsters are too lazy to wash your clothes, yet you're more than willing to use your brains for nonsense like this. My son is too kind to let you take advantage of him like this." I grab my clothes and leave. It's time to use my brain for some nonsense—I think the laundromat should have a new owner.

I'd been engaged to Ivan since we were kids. When he went off to the military, I stayed behind—ten years of caring for his paralyzed mom, putting my whole life on pause. By the time he came back, I was at the age where most women were settling down. And he showed up with someone else. Ivan laid it out, stone cold: "Nadia's my comrade's widow. If you want to marry me, you'll have to accept her too. Most of my pay goes to her. I promised I'd take care of her. She gets first pick of everything in the house. Don't like it? Then forget about getting married." I looked past him. Nadia stood there, tears dripping down her cheeks, playing the poor little victim. Right then, I ended it. No drama. No regrets. Signed up for the Rural Teaching Support Program the same day. Left love behind. Threw everything I had into teaching.

My parents take me to court to get my heart and save my adoptive sister. The judge uses advanced technology to extract our memories. A jury of 100 people decides the verdict. If my parents win the case, my organs will go to them. They think I won't dare to show up for the trial because they think I'm evil. However, everyone is overcome by tears when they see my memories and the truth of what happened!

Because I saved my husband during a car accident, I lost my eyesight. He wept, promising to treat me well for the rest of our lives to repay my sacrifice. I cooperated with the treatment wholeheartedly, hoping for a full recovery. But on the day I finally regained my sight, I stumbled upon something that shattered my world. In our marital home, his first love lay beneath him, her flushed face betraying the passion of the moment. Their bodies intertwined, and the air around them thick with stifled moans—a vivid tableau of infidelity. "She's just a blind woman. Why haven't you divorced her yet?" the woman murmured impatiently, her voice laced with disdain as she moved against him. My husband, immersed in pleasure, still mumbled an excuse. "My love, just a little longer. Soon, we'll be together openly…" I turned and left without a word, pretending I had seen nothing. As I walked away, I remembered the witch's sacrificial ritual in the misty forest—only a few days away. My husband's betrayal cut deep, carving wounds I couldn't ignore. I made up my mind to return to the forest, to embrace my identity as a witch once more, and to sever all ties with him. Yet, after I disappeared, word reached me that he was searching for me everywhere like a madman. Rumor had it he had completely lost his mind.

After being married for seven years, my husband, Samuel Ford, falls for Maggie Burner, his company's new accountant. He says, "It's only upon meeting her that I realize what love is." For the sake of his love, he allows Maggie to anger my aunt, who's gravely ill. She subsequently dies. He also stands by and watches as Maggie locks our four-year-old daughter in the car, leading to her asphyxiation. I lose all hope in life and ram my car at Samuel and Maggie. We die together. When I open my eyes, I realize that I've traveled seven years into the past. It's me and Samuel's wedding day. The officiant gives a speech, then asks, "Do you, Samuel Ford, take Penelope Waterworth to be your lawfully wedded wife? To have and to hold, from this day forward, for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until death do you part?" Samuel is taken aback. Then, he flings my hand aside and says coldly, "No, I don't." I lower my head to conceal the emotions in my eyes. What a coincidence—I don't want to marry him, either.

On my birthday, my boyfriend ditched his childhood friend's desperate call to be with me. Devastated by his rejection, she spiraled into depression and ended her life. Heartbroken, he proposed to me beside her body. "I've already lost Giselle. I can't lose you, too." I said yes, moved by his grief and sincerity. But on our wedding night, he turned on me, hacking me with a knife. "You vile woman! Giselle died because of you. Time to feel her pain!" As I bled out, the girl waltzed back, saying she'd faked her death to spook him. Overjoyed, he pointed at my corpse. "Thank God, you're alive. This wretched woman is gone, and we're free to be together." They looted my wealth for their lavish wedding and happy life. When my eyes snapped open again, I was back on that fateful birthday.

My husband and his beloved mistress died together in a car accident. They left me with a pair of illegitimate children. Eighteen years passed in a blur. I poured my heart and soul into raising those children until, at last, they earned admission to Corvell University, the country's top university. But on the very day they received their acceptance letters, my 'dead' husband returned. And beside him stood his mistress. She clutched my husband's arm and beamed at me. "Thanks to your tireless care, my two sons finally made it into Corvell. If not for you, the two of us wouldn't have been free to live so happily together all these years..." Later, my husband demanded a divorce. He wanted to marry his mistress and reunite their perfect little family of four. I didn't cry, nor did I rage. I only smiled and said, "Sure."

I married Mason Fleming, who comes from a prestigious family with a long line of lawyers, at 19. For over 20 years, I devoted myself fully to our home by raising our child, keeping the household together, and supporting his career. Now I'm 40, and he cheats on me. Friends and relatives try to advise me. "Your husband is handsome and successful. He even lets you manage the money he earns. Compared to most men, he's considered one of the good ones." In other words, they want me to turn a blind eye and continue playing the role of a "good wife" to maintain appearances. But I can't keep up with the act anymore.

What happens when the tormented female lead in a novel wakes up and decides to get together with the second male lead? Coincidentally enough, I'm transmigrated into the body of this tormented female lead!

At the award ceremony, my fiance, Allen Walter, pulled his mistress on stage and publicly announced their relationship when he presented me with an award.. "Out with the old, in with the new. Just a man," I shrugged. My parents were furious. "Pull our investments and end all cooperation," they said furiously. My sister chimed in, "We'll retrieve the copyright. I would rather let it sit idle than sell it to them!" Allen panicked and came to apologize, but I waved him off dismissively. "Someone like you is not even worth talking to."