The Perfect Match Dramione

I was from a rich family. But after I finally returned home, my parents made me sleep in the store room and eat leftover food. Yet, they still felt like they had wronged their foster daughter. When the government introduced the Children’s Fairness System, my parents immediately bound the entire family to it. My father breathed a sigh of relief and said, “With this perfectly fair system in place, Annie won’t be treated unfairly anymore.” My mother gently held my hand and said in an unyielding tone. “Ever since you came back, you’ve taken everything that was meant for Annie. This is unfair to her.” My elder brother never showed a hint of kindness toward me either. “I only acknowledge Annie as my sister. You’ve gotten way more than you deserved already, so don’t push your luck,” he said. I looked down at the cheap clothes I had worn for five years. Then, I glanced at Annie’s lavish bedroom and countless luxury items. I found it all utterly ridiculous. However, when the system took effect, they all ended up breaking down.

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.

Of the five boys who'd been raised to marry me, Lance Riverford was the one who hated me the most. And yet, he was the one I loved the most. Three times I was reborn, and three times I forced him to be my husband. Each time ended the same way—he and his childhood sweetheart killed me. When I opened my eyes for the fourth time and met that same look of loathing in his eyes, something inside me finally let go. I turned away and chose his rival, Jace Elden, as my husband instead. But at the wedding, Lance demanded with tears in his eyes, "Why did you choose someone else this time? Are you doing this just to spite me?" That was when I realized… he'd been reborn too.

After I got pregnant, I witnessed my boyfriend's grandmother's death. She left behind a secret, and now, everyone who knows that secret is dead. First, it was my boyfriend's father who died. My boyfriend's mother followed soon after. Lastly, my boyfriend died too. He ended his life by overdosing right before my eyes. The media went wild. They dug obsessively for the truth. Again and again, the police summoned me for questioning. Online hate toward me was overwhelming. Everyone wants to know what the secret is. People claim I cursed my boyfriend's entire family to death, just to keep the secret to myself. I stay silent, never saying a word in defense of myself. On the seventh day after my boyfriend had passed, I spot someone at his funeral. At that moment, I place my hand on my swollen belly. I am utterly calm and at peace. It is time for me and my child to die too.

On the day I was diagnosed with uremia, my husband asked me to donate a kidney to his one true love. I turned him down, claiming I wasn’t feeling well. I didn’t expect him, my own husband, who was a doctor, to drag me to trial. The charge? Ingratitude. If found guilty, I would be executed on the spot, my kidney forcibly harvested, my soul condemned for eternity. But if the charges were dismissed, my husband would face immediate execution. His love would fall into ruin, plagued by illness and poverty. Everyone pressured me to confess. After all, when I nearly died in a car crash years ago, it was her blood transfusion that had pulled me back from the brink of death. But what they didn’t know was… I had been reborn. In my past life, I died never knowing my husband and his lover had orchestrated the car crash that nearly killed me. Now that I had returned, I would tear off their masks and expose their malice for all to see.

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...

Yasmine Silva gave everything to Leo Quinton over fifty years of marriage. After he was injured on a mission and left disabled, she left her respectable and steady job as a TV station host to stay by his side and massage his legs every day. He said he never wanted children. She endured ten miscarriages and was left unable to have any. Even then, she never once complained. Everyone said Leo was blessed to have a wife like Yasmine. It was only after Leo passed away that Yasmine, who had cared for him all her life, learned the truth. To him, she had never been a blessing. She had only been a burden that kept him from his wife and son.

A new intern at the hospital claimed that she had excellent medical skills. Even without anesthesia, her treatments never caused any pain. The truth was that she had transferred her patients’ pain to me. After she went viral, many patients rushed to the hospital to see her. Some of them even had to bid for a slot to receive surgery from her. However, I was in excruciating pain due to all the surgeries she had carried out. I could no longer work and received complaints from the patients. In the end, the hospital fired me. I gradually discovered that I even experienced some of the side effects of the surgeries she had carried out on her patients. My hair started to fall, and I became as thin as a skeleton. Even walking caused me excruciating pain. I went to the hospital to question her. Everyone thought that I was jealous of her and that I had gone crazy. She calmly put on her surgical gloves as she faced my wrath. “Please don’t make a scene. I’m about to conduct brain surgery on the daughter of the wealthiest man in the city. I don’t have time for your nonsense.” After she entered the operating theater for five minutes, I suddenly suffered from an aneurysm and died on the spot. When I opened my eyes again, I had been transported back to the day when she had gone viral. I took out all my savings and bid for one of her treatment slots. “I’d like to try your painless gastroscopy.”

My husband, Adrian Cross, was a high-profile lawyer. We'd been married for seven years. I'd always wanted a child of our own, but he had never touched me because his heart belonged to someone else. Not long ago, I got into a car accident trying to save him. He promised he would grant me any wish. Everyone assumed I would ask him to have a child with me, but I calmly asked for a divorce. Adrian laughed, a cruel, public sneer on his face. "Don't pretend," he mocked. "I've never met anyone as shameless as you. You'd risk your life for me, yet you think you could ever leave me?" My heart, long hardened, turned even colder. He had no idea that I had been given a second chance. … In my previous life, I finally became pregnant with his child. But his obsession, the one he couldn't forget, took her own life. All his rage fell on me. On the day I went into labor, he locked me in the basement and forced me to swallow a massive dose of abortion drugs. As blood gushed from me, he laughed like a madman. "Ella died because of you and that wretched child you're carrying. For the pain she endured, you will pay twice over!" I died from hemorrhaging. And he went on to hold a wedding at the grave of his lost love. But reborn, I returned to the day of the car accident, ready to see their doomed love come to its bitter end.

The intern secretly submitted a voluntary pay-cut application on my behalf. As a result, my salary dropped from $10,000 to $2,000. When I found out and confronted him, my boss and colleagues all defended him. "The company is not doing great right now. Oscar was just trying to save costs for us. Do you have to nickel-and-dime over this?" With my salary so low, I couldn't afford the special medication for my chronic migraines, and one day I passed out at my desk during an attack. But the intern snuck a video of me unconscious and posted it on the company's website. He even whipped up a detailed 100-page slideshow breaking down how I was slacking off on the clock and dumping all my work on him. Overnight, I was labeled a workplace bully. My boss gave me the cold shoulder, and my colleagues whispered about me. Even worse, some extreme "anti-workplace-bullying" activists tracked me down to my home, showed up with two cans of gasoline, and burned me and my parents alive. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on that very day when the intern had submitted my pay-cut form. In this second chance at life, I would make sure everyone saw the intern for who he truly was.