Chapter 1

When I was trapped in a fire, my firefighter fiancé, instead, mobilized all his resources to save his suicidal ex-girlfriend.

I didn't call him, just simply watched as our carefully decorated home burned to ashes.

Because of in my past life, he answered my call first and came to save me when I was pregnant. This led to his beloved girl, having a recurrence of her depression. In the end, she jumped off the 18th floor and was left horribly disfigured.

He claimed he didn't regret saving me and our baby, and we proceeded with our wedding as planned.

But on our wedding day, he broke my leg and forced me to kneel at his ex's gravestone.

"The fire at our place wasn't even that bad, Olivia," he'd snarled. "You deliberately sent me away so I couldn't save her!"

"Celine was so kind and gentle. Why wasn't it you who died?!"

When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back on the day of the fire.

This time, if he wanted to save Celine, I'd let him go.

...

Thick smoke billowed around me, causing me to cough uncontrollably. I quickly took out my phone and dialed 911.

The voice that answered was painfully familiar.

"Hey, Olivia. Benson said you'd call, and I never thought that—you actually did."

It was Jason Simpson, my fiancé Benson Blake's colleague and supposedly his best friend.

"Jason, there's a fire at my place. Please send someone quickly," I said urgently.

Just then, a wooden wardrobe near me cracked from the heat and collapsed. A burning piece grazed my skin, and I couldn't help but hiss in pain.

Despite the emergency, Jason's tone remained casual, not taking my words seriously at all.

"Come on, Olivia, quit the act."

"Benson already told me what's going on. He said you'd be jealous when you found out he went to save his ex, so you'd fake an emergency."

"Look, I'll be straight with you—we're short-staffed right now. Stop making a scene."

"This is literally a life-and-death situation he's handling. You guys are getting married soon, so all this jealousy and suspicion? Not healthy for your relationship."

The fire was growing more intense by the second. I didn't have time for Jason's lecture, so I hung up.

What he thought of me was the least of my concerns now.

Looking at this apartment that held five years of memories with Benson, I sighed deeply and placed my hand on my belly.

I never expected to be reborn to this exact moment.

In my previous life, this fire happened too.

Back then, I called Benson directly.

He rushed over with a team to put out the fire. His ex, Celine, had called him over a dozen times, but he didn't hear his phone.

Later, we found out that Celine had experienced a severe depressive episode that day and jumped from the eighteenth floor.

After our narrow escape, as I cried in Benson's arms, he told me he didn't regret saving me and our unborn child.

Our wedding proceeded as planned. I wore the wedding dress I'd dreamed of, marrying the man I'd been with for over five years. Just as I thought we were beginning our new life together, he delivered a devastating blow.

Benson broke my leg with such force that blood soaked my wedding dress. He ignored my agony, drove me to the spot where Celine had jumped, and forced me to kneel and apologize to her.

But I truly didn't know what I'd done wrong.

Benson was my fiancé, the father of my unborn child.

Why did his choice to save me become my fault?

He, however, didn't care about any of that.

His eyes were bloodshot, like a madman who'd lost someone he deeply loved: "The fire at our place wasn't even that bad, Olivia. You deliberately sent me away so I couldn't see her one last time!"

"If I hadn't found Celine's diary, I would never have known how cruel you really are!"

"Her depression was your doing. Celine was so kind and gentle. Why couldn't it have been YOU who died instead?"

Chapter 2

I had no idea what he was talking about.

But Benson had truly lost his mind.

"Now you can experience what it's like to lose someone you care about!"

My heart-wrenching screams couldn't awaken even a shred of compassion in him.

He dragged me like a dead animal and locked me in a dark room.

I begged him to let me go, asking what our five years together had meant.

Benson showed no emotion. He even poured gasoline around the room.

My final memory was of him looking down at me, not as his newlywed wife, but as a mortal enemy.

He took out a lighter and ignited the gasoline—

"The thought of spending five years with someone as vicious as you makes me sick!"

"You like faking fires to get me home? Well, now you can experience what it's really like to burn to death!"

And burning to death was indeed excruciating!

I still can't forget that bone-deep agony.

And now, I once again faced the threat of dying in a fire.

I thought not calling Benson would prevent the same tragic outcome as my previous life.

But I never imagined he would go this far—telling his colleague I was faking an emergency.

A sharp pain shot through my abdomen, as if my unborn child was also reminding me just how heartless this man truly was.

Benson and I had been together for five years.

We bought this apartment two years ago as our future marital home.

Though it was in an older neighborhood and not particularly spacious, I didn't mind.

We were both ordinary working people with average incomes. Being able to buy a place in expensive Atlanta was already quite an achievement.

Having lost my parents at a young age, my deepest desire was to create a happy family of my own.

In our most intimate moments, Benson promised countless times that he would make me happy, and I truly believed him.

Every piece of furniture in our home was personally selected by us together.

The flowers on the balcony were tenderly cared for by me.

I nurtured everything with love, transforming this place into the cozy home I'd always imagined.

But just like the suddenly malfunctioning electrical wiring, my relationship with Benson had long been compromised.

In every day that I thought was happy and secure, there lay hidden huge dangers.

In the raging fire, I calmly retrieved the precious photo album.

It contained all the pictures Benson and I had taken together over the past five years.

He used to joke that we should preserve this album to show our children someday.

But now, in an instant, the paper album burned to ashes in the raging fire.

The flames grew more intense, sweeping across the wooden bedroom door, consuming the bed, and devouring the curtains, surging toward me.

At this moment, my only escape route seemed to be the window.

I quickly crawled out.

Standing on the air conditioning unit, gripping the scorching hot window frame, I knew the danger was far from over.

This was the fifth floor.

Not extremely high, but with my pregnant belly, the outcome of a fall was uncertain at best.

A crowd had gathered below, mostly nearby residents. At a glance, I recognized several familiar faces.

When they saw me climb out of the apartment, these neighbors grew anxious.

"Hold on tight! Don't let go!"

"We've called the fire department!"

Even though many of them barely knew me, they showed genuine concern for my safety.

Yet Benson, who had shared over five years with me—nearly two thousand days and nights—could be so coldly indifferent.

I smiled bitterly, realizing once again the meaning of trusting the wrong person.

With so many people calling, Jason at the fire station finally realized something was wrong.

One or two calls might have been dismissed as fake, but with numerous people calling and sounding increasingly desperate, even he began to doubt.

Almost all the firefighters had been taken by Benson to save Celine, leaving Jason with no team to respond with.

The neighbors below waited, but no firefighters came.

Meanwhile, my grip on the window was weakening.

The pain in my abdomen made my face pale and my body tremble uncontrollably.

My hands were blistered from the heat, making it difficult to hold onto the railing.

Amid everyone's horrified shouts, I could no longer maintain my grip and fell backward...

Chapter 3

In that hazy moment, I suddenly recalled when Benson and I first got together.

We met through a mutual friend's introduction, and we clicked surprisingly well on our first meeting.

Neither of us liked spicy food or strong flavors.

We both loved watching movies and documentaries, enjoyed growing plants, and adored cats and dogs.

I once thought Benson and I were soulmates, and I naively believed he felt the same.

After all, he was always attentive and caring, and he even swore at my deceased parents' graves that he would take good care of me forever.

I never imagined Benson could be harboring feelings for someone else.

Everyone said Benson loved me deeply, and I foolishly believed it.

Until Celine, his first love, returned from abroad.

On a stormy night, she called Benson after we'd already gone to bed. Despite my protests, he threw on clothes and rushed out.

Perhaps that's when I should have seen how important Celine was to him.

Instead, I softened when he casually explained that she had depression and he was her only support.

But why couldn't she see a doctor, take medication, or find someone other than my fiancé to lean on?

And why did these emergencies always happen late at night, when they would be alone together? I refused to believe she had no ulterior motives.

To make matters worse, Celine added me on social media through Benson's introduction.

They became increasingly brazen, claiming their relationship was innocent and they just didn't want me to misunderstand.

Yet this supposedly pure and kind-hearted Celine whom Benson praised would habitually send me intimate photos.

Sometimes it was a movie screen they were watching together.

Sometimes Benson's back as he cooked for her.

Sometimes Benson's profile as he slept from exhaustion, or their hands intertwined.

These provocative pictures caused countless arguments between Benson and me.

But each time, he would just tiredly rub his temples, as if I were being unreasonable: "Olivia, I'm really exhausted. I'm just trying to keep Celine from hurting herself, there's nothing between us."

"Can you please stop making a scene?"

Thinking now about his reaction after Celine's death, it certainly didn't seem like there was "nothing" between them.

He was actually capable of killing me and our child for her sake.

Reborn into this life and pushed to the edge once more by him.

My heart held no more illusions.

Benson had never loved me.

I had chosen the wrong man.

I was fortunate, in a way.

As I fell, several kind-hearted neighbors reached out to catch me, preventing me from hitting the ground directly.

But despite their help, the impact was still significant for a pregnant woman.

Blood flowed uncontrollably from between my legs. When Jason finally arrived with a few off-duty colleagues, this was the scene they encountered—

I was surrounded by people, deathly pale, with multiple burns on my body, my white dress stained with an alarming amount of blood.

"O-Olivia..." Jason pushed through the crowd, clearly panicked.

"How did this happen? Benson said you were just pretending!"

The pain in my abdomen left me breathless, but I still managed to give him a cold look.

"Does your entire fire department only listen to Benson?"

"Is whatever he says automatically true?"

The neighbors joined in the criticism.

"What kind of work ethic is this? Completely irresponsible! We waited nearly an hour before you showed up! With a fire this big, someone could have died! She's pregnant, for God's sake!"

"Look at her condition now! This doesn't look good at all..."

Jason couldn't respond, knowing they were right. He hung his head, unable to meet my eyes.

When the ambulance arrived, he voluntarily accompanied me to the hospital.

Throughout the journey, he kept apologizing.

"I'm so sorry, Olivia. I truly had no idea this would happen."

"It's my fault. I trusted Benson too much..."

A nurse interrupted his endless apologies: "Please don't disturb the patient. She's in critical condition. Are you a relative?"

Jason shook his head, prompting the nurse to say: "Then you need to contact her family immediately. What if consent forms need to be signed?"

Only then did Jason hurriedly call Benson.

The call connected quickly.

"Hey, Jason, what's up?"

Jason put the call on speaker, presumably so I could hear.

From Benson's end came background noise, including what sounded like a woman crying.

Jason, not noticing this detail, blurted out the news of my condition.

"Benson, there really was a fire at your place. Olivia jumped from the building. We're heading to the hospital now. You need to get here—they might need your signature for something."

He didn't expect that after hearing what he said, Benson would let out a scornful sneer, as if he had seen through everything.

"Jason, how much did Olivia pay you to help her trick me?"