Yaholics Anonymous!

In the third year after my death, the one who remained faithfully by my wife's side was still the bionic robot I had painstakingly designed. It looked exactly like me and carried within it every detail of my mannerisms, speech, and habits. The only difference was that it never lost its temper with her. Because of that, my wife never sensed anything amiss. Yet each night, she brought home a different man, deliberately testing "me," desperate to see the wild jealousy and rage I once wore so vividly. Then, one day, her childhood sweetheart and first love, shoved "me" off the balcony. It was only then, in her horror, that my wife realized… "I" didn't bleed.

Thirty days into our argument, my girlfriend kissed her first love passionately right in front of me. I quietly asked my boss for a transfer to the Northern City branch, which was thousands of miles away. Her friends clapped and teased me. “Ivan, your girlfriend’s getting a new boyfriend. Aren’t you going to win her back?” I held her hand and sincerely said, “I’m sorry.” She looked down at me with a proud smile. “Okay, I forgive you. Tomorrow, pack your things. We’re going to see my parents.” I smiled and agreed. But she did not know I was leaving for Northern City that night.

After being reborn, I tear up my school withdrawal form. I no longer wish to become a househusband just for Eliza Stewart's sake. She messages me when she hears the news, but I blacklist her number right away. She camps outside my house to confront me, so my family and I move to a new place immediately. Eventually, she compromises by asking me to join her in Northcrest for college. That way, I can still take care of her. I go behind her back and apply to be an education major at Southwell University instead. In my previous life, she dedicated herself to everything and everyone else, except for me. This time around, I just want us to go on our separate paths and never meet again. A few years later, I set off for the rural region of Westridge to volunteer as a teacher. Eliza, who is also volunteering there, sees me. Her eyes start turning red. She grabs my hand and refuses to let go. "Don't run off this time, Matthew…"

The day my husband, Lucas Maxwell, helps his childhood sweetheart—Cecilia Brown, who has cancer—lose her virginity, I leave behind a divorce agreement and walk away. Before I leave, I drop a comment beneath a photo of them on his social media. Their fingers are tightly interlocked in the photo. "Let's get divorced. I wish you both a lifetime of happiness." A minute later, he calls me. "How did I end up marrying someone as selfish as you, Fiona Sinclair? Do you really have the heart to let her die without leaving anything behind?" I sneer, "You're no longer my husband. How is that my problem?" That's when he panics.

On the way to get our marriage certificate for the twentieth time, Rolf Trivett regretted it once again. In eight years, this was our twentieth attempt to get the certificate. But every time we reached City Hall, he would always say he needed time to care for his seriously ill childhood friend and couldn't promise to marry me. This time, I couldn't take it anymore and asked him, "If she’s never going to get better, does that mean you’ll never marry me? What am I to you?" Rolf immediately lost his temper and yelled at me, "I've already promised to take care of her for life. Can you stop being so selfish? "Besides, we've been together for eight years. What difference does it make if we don't get this certificate?"

My mother is a hospital director. To give my brother, an intern doctor, more hands-on experience, she assigns him as the lead surgeon for my brain tumor operation. I beg her to let someone else do it and tell her it's my only chance at survival. But she slaps me hard across the face and screams, "How did I raise such a selfish, ungrateful child? Your brother has just started his internship—can't you help him improve his skills? Is that too much to ask?" Later, the surgery fails. I die on the operating table. And my mother seems to have aged decades overnight.

On the day Zachary Lake stands at the pinnacle of global technology, accepting his award, I'm lying in a hospital bed, abandoned by doctors because I can't afford treatment for kidney failure. On TV, the host asks him to call the person he's most grateful for. Without hesitation, he dials my number. "Shannon, do you regret leaving me?" he asks. I clutch the astronomical medical bill in my hand, the paper crumpling beneath my fingers. Forcing a light tone, I reply, "Can you take me on as your kept woman now that you're a big deal?" On screen, his face remains expressionless as he hangs up without a word. Then, his cold voice pierces through the broadcast. "Now, I have nothing to feel grateful for." But what he doesn't know is that when he was on the brink of death years ago, I was the one who gave him my kidney.

On our fifth wedding anniversary, my husband, Damian Pyke, once again left me for his first love. He said, "Taking care of a child alone isn't easy for Waverly. You're both women—can't you show her some understanding?" Not only was I willing to understand Waverly Benson, but I was also ready to step aside entirely so they could raise her child together. So, I packed my bags and applied for an overseas architecture program through my workplace. However, he eventually regretted it, crying and begging me not to go.

After dating Scott Kenta for 10 years, I said to him, "Scott, I'm pregnant." The file in his hands slipped and hit the floor. He frowned, clearly irritated. "Don't be ridiculous," he said. "This is a critical moment—my company's going public. I never planned on having a child." "It's fine. Your career matters more," I said, smiling gently. He didn't catch the meaning behind my words. I was pregnant, yes. But he wasn't the father.

After being reborn, I decide to return my fiancé to his true love. When he holds a singles party for her and doesn't want me to disturb him, I go to Faldora alone. He says I'm an annoyance, so I quit my job without hesitation. He doesn't feel good being in the same country as me, so I immediately migrate abroad. In the end, he tells me he wants to make his true love feel secure. I nod and accept someone else's proposal. Why am I so obedient and compliant? It's because of my past life. In my past life, his true love ended her life after I married him. He blamed me for separating them and subjected me to inhumane torture. This time, I just want to live my life. Later, when I'm taking a stroll with my family, he kneels before me and sobs in earnest. "I promise I'll be with you as long as you leave them, Audrey."