My husband’s ex-girlfriend secretly donated a kidney to me. After the surgery, her health declined rapidly, and my husband took care of her with overwhelming attentiveness. Then, standing on his moral high ground, he scolded me, “Nina, she ended up like this because of who? Can’t you be a little more understanding?” Endless arguments followed, and I eventually wasted away from the emotional exhaustion. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the moment right before my kidney transplant surgery. I immediately pulled out my oxygen tube, “I’m not going through with the surgery. I’m giving up on treatment.” I never imagined that after my death, my husband would go insane. 1 The overhead fluorescent light flickered, making me dizzy. The sound of the doctor’s voice announcing the countdown to the kidney transplant echoed in my ears. I suddenly realized I had been reborn. Without hesitation, I pulled the oxygen tube out. Struggling, I sat up on the operating table, “Dr. Lucas, I’m not going through with the surgery. I’m giving up treatment.” Dr. Lucas was shocked, repeatedly emphasizing that my body couldn’t afford to wait any longer and that if I missed this chance, I might not find another matching donor in time. I thanked him, but I remained firm. Dr. Lucas sighed in resignation and notified everyone to cancel the surgery. After signing the organ donation consent form, I returned to the Downtown Loft I shared with Ryan. I started packing my bags. I had been diagnosed with kidney failure in the second year of our marriage while we were trying to conceive. At that time, Ryan and I were constantly at odds because of Claire Young. I thought having a baby might bring us closer, but instead, I received the terrible news about my health. Strictly speaking, Claire wasn’t really Ryan’s ex-girlfriend. She appeared in his life while I was abroad pursuing my ballet career, and they never officially became a couple. Back then, I was ambitious and determined not to give up my career for love. And I succeeded, becoming the principal dancer of the Joffrey Ballet in just two years. When I returned, I found out Ryan had been waiting for me all those years. His devotion moved me beyond words, and memories of our time together as students filled me with warmth. I accepted his proposal. It was only after we married that I learned about Claire Young. I discovered they had nearly become a couple, but my return to the U.S. had torn them apart. Because of my upbringing, I’ve always been sensitive and insecure in relationships. Ever since learning about Claire, I couldn’t sleep at night, and the arguments between Ryan and me grew more intense. I questioned him, asking why he claimed to love me but still had feelings for someone else. He accused me of being unreasonable and making things up. As the fights escalated, Ryan started working late just to avoid coming home. It wasn’t until I sought help from a therapist that I realized I still loved Ryan, this man who had been such a huge part of my youth. So I called him and asked him to come home. That night, he rushed back, embracing me as if he never wanted to let go. He promised he would transfer Claire to another city and focus on our marriage from then on. It was around that time I went for a check-up, planning to start preparing for a baby. Later, the doctor told me they had found a matching kidney donor. The donor wished to remain anonymous and didn’t want to reveal their identity. I understood. But I never imagined that person would be Claire. The day after my surgery, Ryan sat by my bedside with red eyes and told me we owed Claire a huge debt. From that point on, he showered her with care and attention. I couldn’t show any dissatisfaction. If I did, I’d be seen as ungrateful—a heartless woman. I could only watch as Claire slowly took Ryan away from me. I was powerless to stop it. In the end, I wasted away from the stress. When I died, Ryan stayed by Claire’s side, refusing to leave her for a moment. This time, I’ve chosen to let them be. To free myself. 2 I had lived in the Downtown Loft for two years, and packing took three suitcases. I sat on the couch, waiting. By 11 PM, Ryan still hadn’t come home. I called him. He answered almost immediately. But on the other end, it was Claire’s voice, “Mrs. Carter, is there something you need from Mr. Carter? He’s exhausted from back-to-back meetings and fell asleep at the office.” Claire had just undergone the kidney transplant surgery in Chicago—I knew that. But I didn’t expect her to head straight to Ryan’s office after getting off the operating table. She really did love him. I spoke calmly, “It’s nothing important. Just let him know when he wakes up.” “I’ve left the divorce papers on the dining table. Tell him to sign them when he has the time.” Claire gasped in shock on the other end of the line, her excitement barely concealed. Before she could say anything else, I hung up. I moved back to my Gold Coast Apartment, the one I’d bought before we were married. I thought Ryan would come looking for me, or at the very least call to discuss the divorce. But, as it turned out, I was overthinking it. There was no word from him. His phone had even been turned off. With no other choice, I went to his office. To my surprise, the receptionist informed me that Ryan had been in a car accident three days ago. His phone had been smashed, and he hadn’t had a chance to replace it. He had just undergone surgery and was now out of danger. My first reaction wasn’t worry, but amusement. I had been diagnosed with kidney failure and hadn’t told him. He got into a car accident, and I didn’t know. This marriage had clearly run its course. I drove to Northwestern Memorial Hospital, and sure enough, I ran into Claire outside the Private Suite. She was dressed casually, with perfectly applied makeup, radiating friendliness. I glanced toward the hospital room, “Is Ryan not here?” “Mr. Carter’s getting some tests done. He should be back in about an hour.” Claire’s expression turned cold as she closed the door to the suite. “Why don’t you head home?” Her disdain for me was clear. I smirked. “Claire, you can play the part of Mrs. Carter all you want after the divorce. But right now, you’re still not qualified.” Claire frowned, her voice dripping with sarcasm, “Is that all you’ve got?” She paused for a moment, then smirked, bragging, “Did you know, when Ryan was unconscious and being rushed to the hospital, he was calling out my name the entire time? That’s why the hospital called me and not you, Mrs. Carter.” She bit hard on the words “Mrs. Carter,” her tone heavy with ridicule. In the past, hearing this would have sent me into a rage. But after all the arguments and silent treatments, I no longer cared. I was dying anyway—what did it matter what she said? I remained calm, pulled out the divorce papers from my bag, and handed them to her, “In that case, could you give this to your Mr. Carter? Have him sign and return them when he gets the chance.” As I spoke, I watched Claire’s face change. She grabbed my wrist, trying to make me slap her with the papers. The divorce papers scattered everywhere, and Claire turned her head to the side, dramatically covering her face with her hand, feigning pain. I winced from the sharp pain in my wrist, sucking in a breath. Before I could react, Ryan’s cold, angry voice came from behind, “Apologize.” 3 Ryan stormed over and immediately pulled Claire behind him, shielding her. Claire shot me a triumphant smile. She was claiming her territory. I could feel my blood boiling. I didn’t care who Ryan wanted to protect, but if Claire thought she could openly frame me, she was mistaken! I coldly bent down to pick up the divorce papers, walked right up to Claire, and slapped them against her face again. Ryan moved to stop me, but it was too late. I glared at Claire fiercely: “See it clearly? Next time you try to frame me, at least make it convincing!” Claire’s face flushed red on one side. Tears welled up in her eyes as she looked pitifully at Ryan. “Ryan, I didn’t…” Ryan’s brow furrowed deeply, and he pulled Claire even further behind him. His eyes pierced through me: “Can you leave her out of this? Why are you acting like a lunatic?” “I’ve heard this a thousand times before,” I replied calmly, unfazed. “If you don’t want your assistant to be hurt again, just sign the divorce papers.” Ryan’s face was tense with anger, but after a moment, he turned to Claire with a professional tone: “Sorry, my wife didn’t mean it. Consider this a workplace injury. Keep your receipts, and the company will reimburse you.” “You’ve worked hard these past few days. You can head home now.” “Thank you, Mr. Carter.” Claire gave a soft, grateful reply before gathering her things and leaving the room. Once she was gone, I followed Ryan into the suite. The moment we stepped inside, he pulled me into his arms, burying his face in my neck: “Nina, don’t you have any compassion? That night, I woke up to see you had been calling me repeatedly, saying you wanted a divorce. I panicked, speeding home, and ended up in the car accident.” “And now you don’t even visit me in the hospital. You still want to go through with the divorce.” His voice broke as he clung to me like a lost puppy: “Nina, please, have mercy on me.” 4 I should feel pity for him, right? But who pities me? And fine, if he wants to blame me for the car accident, I’ll accept it. But what did he mean by saying I didn’t come to the hospital because I was being difficult? My blood started to boil. Ryan, however, ignored my growing frustration and leaned in, trying to kiss me. Suddenly, an image of Claire in his arms from my previous life flashed through my mind. Disgust churned inside me, and I pushed him away violently. I ran to the bathroom and vomited, my body shaking with revulsion. When I came back out, Ryan’s face had turned icy cold. “Nina, do I disgust you that much? You can’t even pretend for a moment!” “If you need someone, go find your precious Claire,” I shot back, my voice as cold as his. “She’s sweet and considerate—everything I’m not, right?” I cut him off before he could respond, thrusting the divorce papers at him again. “Just sign the papers. The sooner, the better.” Ryan was at a loss for words, his anger barely contained. After a tense silence, he forced himself to explain, his voice tight with frustration: “I’ve told you a thousand times, Claire is just an employee. There’s nothing between us, Nina. Why can’t you believe me?” I looked up at him, eyes blazing, and his tone softened in response. “Nina, I’m recovering from an accident here,” he pleaded, reaching out for my hand. I instinctively pulled away. He took a deep breath, his frustration visible, but he still knelt in front of me, trying to calm me down. His eyes were full of sincerity. I stared at him, a bitter feeling rising in my chest. In my past life, he had apologized countless times for Claire, explaining himself and asking for forgiveness. And every single time, I had forgiven him. But what did I get in return? Every time Claire and I clashed, he took her side, standing against me. As a woman, I saw through Claire’s games clearly. I knew exactly what she was doing. But Ryan always thought I was the one being unreasonable, that I was the one stirring up trouble. This wouldn’t change, no matter how many lives I lived. I was exhausted. “Ryan, let’s just stop this.” “Three days from now, I’ll be waiting at the Cook County Clerk’s Office. If you don’t show up, I’ll have no choice but to take legal action.” I didn’t want to die being labeled as “Ryan Carter’s tragic widow.” Without another word, I turned and walked out. Behind me, I heard his voice crack, filled with frustration and vulnerability: “Nina, why are you always so rash? Do you know how unfair you’re being to me?” I had never heard him sound so fragile before. 5 Three days passed, and I stood outside the Cook County Clerk’s Office, but Ryan never showed. I called my lawyer immediately and initiated divorce proceedings. My health was deteriorating fast, and I couldn’t afford to wait any longer. That afternoon, after returning from the hospital, I found Ryan standing angrily outside my Gold Coast Apartment. His lips were pressed into a tight line, his entire posture radiating tension. Claire was standing behind him, her eyes red and swollen, the clear imprint of five fingers on her pale cheek. When she saw me, she instinctively shrank back, as if afraid I might hit her again. I raised my eyebrows, annoyed. “Really? Trying this trick again? Didn’t get enough the last time, huh?” “Nina, enough!” Ryan exploded, shouting at me with a mix of fury and disappointment. “You’ve crossed the line—vandalizing my car, hiring people to harass me, hitting Claire? Do you realize you’re breaking the law?” He started listing my supposed offenses, as if I were some criminal mastermind. Honestly, if he and Claire hadn’t shown up at my door, I wouldn’t even have known I’d committed so many “crimes.” I opened my mouth to throw back a snarky remark, but Claire beat me to it, interrupting in tears: “Mrs. Carter, Ryan and I are only work colleagues.” “I come from a difficult family background. I worked hard, studied hard, and finally managed to make something of myself. I don’t want to go back home.” “I’ll resign if it helps. Please, just let me go.” As she spoke, she started to kneel down in front of me, but Ryan pulled her up quickly, his face burning with anger as he turned to me. “Look at what you’ve reduced her to. Is this what you wanted?” He stood there, looking at me with the same disappointed, angry eyes I’d seen countless times before. It was as if I was back in my previous life, being endlessly blamed for things that weren’t my fault. And once again, Claire played the victim perfectly. I had seen this too many times. Claire’s innocent act was something Ryan never seemed to see through. My body was already wracked with pain, and now, my anger added to the suffering, tightening my chest. I glared at both of them, my voice sharp. “You two come here, invade my space, then ask me if I’m satisfied? Ryan, are you out of your mind?” “If you really believe I did all this, call the cops. Let the law deal with me.” “But stop pretending you’re on some moral high ground, looking down on me. It’s disgusting!” I gasped for breath as the pain wracked my body, but I managed to give them a final ultimatum: “Now, get out of my home before I call the police myself.” Ryan looked like he had more to say, but Claire gently tugged on his sleeve, urging him to let it go. With fury in his eyes, he turned to me, spitting out his final words: “Nina, don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing. You’re just trying to push me into a corner so I’ll divorce you!” “Fine, divorce it is. I’ll do it. Let’s just say I loved the wrong person all these years.” He turned and stormed off. Claire followed, but not before casting me a smug, triumphant glance, like she had finally won. Tears welled up in my eyes, and my chest ached with frustration. How dare Ryan say that? The truth was, I was the one who had loved the wrong person all along. 6 That very night, Claire moved into the Downtown Loft that Ryan and I had shared. She even recorded a video and sent it to me. Every word she spoke in the video dripped with pride and smugness. Without a flicker of emotion, I took screenshots of her messages, packaged them neatly, and sent them to Ryan’s email. I scheduled them to go out two days later. Ryan and I had agreed to meet the next day to finalize our divorce. I planned to sever all ties with him before showing him Claire’s true colors. I wanted him to regret it, to suffer. He owed me that much.
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