The Perfect Spiral

In my previous life, I was betrothed to my childhood sweetheart, Zachary York, yet he fell for our junior, Tracy Graham, and planned to elope with her. I told his parents of their plan and asked for canceling our engagement. Yet, under their "persuasion", I lay with Zachary while he was unconscious from the drug's effects. That very night, Tracy, who had waited for him at the station, was murdered by a vagrant. I thought Zachary would rage against me. However, he merely said everyone was tied to their own destiny. He even proposed marriage to me at once. I was ecstatic, but on the night I had longed for most, he shoved me into a room filled with men. I begged him desperately to let me go, but his face twisted with hatred. "You should taste the suffering that Trace endured. If not for your jealousy, she would be my bride now!" In the end, I was brutalized to death. Because of Zachary, I was marked as the vilest woman in Riveria, denied even a shred of honor after death. Reborn, I wake to find myself on the very day of their planned elopement. This time, I'm not exposing their plan to elope. I'll even lend them a helping hand.

I suffer from a hereditary form of amnesia. By the time I found out, I had only seven days left. On the first day, I found my boyfriend had fallen for my younger twin sister. With a bitter smile, I suggested we break up. On the second day, my most treasured Lego set was smashed by my sister. Everyone laughed at me, saying I was disgraceful, unworthy of being a daughter of the Fleming family. On the fourth day, I forgot that my sister was allergic to mangoes. She ended up in the hospital, and my parents glared at me with resentment. Even my ex-boyfriend accused me of being heartless. On the seventh day, I woke up in a hospital bed to see my father walking in with a stern expression. He demanded that I quit my job and devote myself entirely to taking care of the family, as nothing more than a housekeeper. But I only looked at them in confusion and asked softly, “Who are you?” When they realized I had truly lost my memory, they lost their minds.

On the day of the wedding, my best friend, Elena Hartman, can't bear to part with me, so she threads my wedding shoes with a string and ties them snugly around her slim waist. The groomsmen turn the whole place upside down, and we end up late for the ceremony. She eventually cracks up and tugs at her billowy bridesmaid dress, revealing the outline of the shoes at her waist. "I dare you to come take them. As long as I'm here, she's not getting married!" My fiancé, Miles Lawson, shakes his head and chuckles. "You just love tormenting us, don't you?" Miles exchanges a look with the groomsmen, and they charge at her at the same time. She squeals as she falls back onto the bed, squirming under her layers of tulle. "Don't be so rough! I'm ticklish…" The groomsmen flush bright red. Miles' ears turn scarlet as he feels around her waist. She giggles even louder. "How are you going to undo it through all these layers? Use your head!" Then, she gasped. "That tickles!" Her theatrics make my temper flare. I spring to my feet, lift her skirt, and rip the wedding shoes right off her. "If you're that ticklish, smack yourself with a slipper. Drop the act, or I'll yank out the nerves that make you ticklish!"

Every day, my son and husband finish all the house chores before I even get home. But only because they're bringing my husband's first love, Sally Sullivan, back for Thanksgiving, I pour boiling water on my son's face. I also kick both my son and husband out when it's 104°F outside. Desperate to save our son, my husband sprawls across the front porch, begging me to open the door. "Wanda, open the door! We need to save our son! I only invited Sally over because she saved you once back then. I didn't mean anything else by it!" "Mom, it hurts!" my son cries. "Mom, can't you kiss me? Mom…" Meanwhile, I'm slouching on the couch, snacking away as I watch TV. In the end, my husband can't take it anymore and brings me to the Bad Mom Court for trial. The moment my memories are extracted, the entire court bursts into tears.

Valentine's Day. I was stuck on ER duty at Brighton City Hospital. Theodore Madoff, who was supposed to be working late, strolled in carrying his student—Cecilia Kuntzer. She had red marks everywhere and that smug little smirk. "Relax, Mrs. Madoff. Just stomach pain. Lucky me, Prof. Madoff rushed me here." Theo pushed me to treat her. Turns out? She was pregnant. From rough intercourse. And the dad? Theo. My husband. The same guy who'd sworn off kids with me for ten years. Felt like a punch to the gut. But I still saved her baby. Next day, she uploaded a video—ID in hand, cheesy PowerPoint, accusing me of malpractice. Claimed I killed her kid. Then Theo asked for a divorce. Priscilla—his mom—stormed the hospital, shrieking about her dead grandbaby. She brought a mob. All these "righteous" strangers who stabbed me to death. Right there in the ER. I died with my eyes wide open. Then—bam—I woke up. Valentine's Day. Again.

I was cleaning up the house on the second day after my wife went for a business trip. I casually instructed the smart speaker. “Smart, play some music.” However, I heard a husky, strange male voice. “Sure. I’m the Sun that loves you. Plus, Lindy, I would like to remind you not to forget about your birthday surprise for Sam tonight.” I stiffened and found the music particularly annoying. Linda Clark was my wife, but I had no idea who Sam was. I immediately called my wife. “Did you use the smart speaker at home?” Linda paused for a moment before she laughed indifferently. “Oh, my friend visited me a few days ago. She might have connected her account to it. What’s wrong?” I laughed and told her it was nothing. After hanging up, I found the login record of the speaker and hailed a cab. I headed straight to the registered company associated with the unfamiliar account on the record.

I spent five years pursuing Derick Tucker before we finally set a wedding date. But in the 100 days leading up to it, he was off partying all over the place, barely showing his face. The night before the wedding, he said he was going to a bachelor party and never came home. Instead, I got a message from a girl he knew from college. It was a photo of them in bed together. [Sorry. He went a little too hard last night. Don't expect much from him on your wedding night. [Oh, wait, I forgot. He doesn't even love you. Who knows if he'll even be able to perform? Looks like you can't even settle for my leftovers.] I held up the message and confronted Derick. He didn't even flinch. "She's not wrong. I'm not married until tomorrow. What's the problem with having some fun before that? "You're used goods yourself, and you expect me to stay pure for you? "If you can't handle it, then don't marry me. But can you really walk away?" After humiliating me, he stormed off, convinced I would swallow it like I always did. But this time, I was done. I picked up my phone. "What you said before, about taking responsibility. Does that still stand?"

During my legal aid work, I run into a pitiful village girl. Her brother is abusing her, and she has nearly died from his fist. As a lawyer, I can't stand aside and do nothing. So, I help her. After she wins the case, I help her get a job as a janitor at my law firm. A few days later, she becomes pregnant and disappears. I assume she has found a family. However, she returns with a baby and accuses me of raping her. Then, she demands I compensate her. I believe she is just spouting nonsense. But the paternity test comes, and it states that I am the baby's biological father. From that moment on, I become a pariah. I am labeled a disgrace and treated as the scum of the Earth. My girlfriend breaks up with me. Meanwhile, my parents can't bear the shame and commit suicide. Then, a self-righteous fool pushes me off an 18-story building. Even as I die, I still can't understand how she became pregnant with my child. Using her identity as the baby's mother, she inherits all of my assets upon my and my parents' deaths. She then goes on to live the life of a wealthy socialite. When I open my eyes, I am back at the moment I see her getting beaten by her brother.

My student, Renee Blue, comes from a poor family, and her mother suffers from uremia. Out of sympathy, I lent her some money. She promised to pay me back after graduation. However, on graduation day, she handed me an ultrasound and told me, "Your money comes from your husband anyway, right? I’m pregnant with your husband’s baby, so I won’t be paying you back. Also, you should step aside." I was in shock… because my husband had been dead for seven years. It wasn't until I saw Renee with my driver that I understood how she got pregnant.

My husband, an Army regimental commander, was killed in action. Before his body was even cold, I didn't hesitate. I filed for his death certificate and notified the Army, the Social Security Administration, and our bank. Then, three days later—on the very day his twin brother married his childhood sweetheart—I moved out, changed the locks, and remarried quietly at the courthouse, taking my son and the full line-of-duty death benefits with me. To everyone else, I was heartless. Cold. I let them curse me. I just looked into my “brother-in-law's” bloodshot eyes and felt a quiet, cruel satisfaction. Only I knew the truth. In my last life, I discovered the body sent home wasn't my husband's at all—it was his identical twin brother's. I ran to confront him, but by chance I overheard him and my mother-in-law whispering. "Mom, Sarah is strong. And we have our son. She'll be okay. The benefits will take care of her. But Amy has waited for my brother all these years. If she finds out he's dead, she might do something drastic." Their words struck me like lightning. I tried to expose them, but my husband knocked me out. He told everyone grief had driven me insane. He locked me in the garage apartment and, with cold detachment, married his sweetheart. And when that woman complained my son was too loud, my husband slipped sleeping pills into our boy's juice—right as my crying child was coming to look for me. My son never woke up. The day they buried him hastily, I ended my life in the garage, utterly broken. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day they delivered my brother-in-law's body to our home.