Both in Two Lives, the Result Was the Same

Nydia's POV

When Cynthia Taylor, Hadden Fletcher's childhood sweetheart, secretly opened the vial, I was at the nurse’s station preparing medication, eight months pregnant.

Instead of seeking help from Hadden, I tightened my grip on my nurse uniform, turned on the faucet in the bathroom, and tried to save myself.

In my previous life, I had screamed for help. Hadden had saved me and given me the only vial of the experimental antidote to protect our child. But Cynthia, without an antidote, succumbed to the infection and died a painful death.

Hadden comforted me with tears in his eyes, staying by my side day and night, worried about potential aftereffects. But when I gave birth, he injected a fatal drug into our newborn.

I watched, helpless, as our child struggled to breathe, his tiny limbs stiffening, until he died in his arms.

Hadden smiled as he held the lifeless body in front of me. "Look how terrifying this is," he said coldly. "Cynthia died just like this. If you hadn’t released the virus, Cynthia would still be here, laughing and joking with me You should have died instead of her!"

That’s how I died—writhing on the delivery table, poisoned, alongside my child.

But fate gave me a second chance. I woke up and was transported back to the day the virus was released.

——

The sudden dizziness cleared, and I found myself staring at the opened vial on the table. Clutching my belly, I staggered toward the bathroom, trying to stay conscious.

Yes, I had been reborn. Reborn to the moment I was infected.

But this time, I didn’t call for help. Instead, I ran to the bathroom, turned on the faucet, and began washing off the virus. I leaned against the sink, my heart pounding, as I heard Cynthia’s frantic cries from the nurse’s station and the sound of the emergency bell ringing.

Soon, Hadden and his colleagues arrived in hazmat suits, but he didn’t go to the nurse’s station first. Instead, he headed straight to the patient ward.

"Hadden, where’s Nydia? She was just helping me with the medication. Forget about me—go save Nydia!" Cynthia urged.

But Hadden coaxed her, saying, "Don't worry about her, Cynthia, she’s probably already escaped by now. Take this—it’ll protect you." then, he handed the antidote.

Hearing him comforting Cynthia and convincing her to take the antidote, I felt relieved.

Then, a colleague suddenly commented, "You're so kind, Miss Taylor. Even though Nydia treats you poorly, you’re still worried about her in such a critical moment."

"Exactly. Always calling her ‘Nydia,’ aren’t you afraid she’ll eat you alive one day?" The other chimed in.

Cynthia’s soft, trembling voice answered, "Don’t say that. Nydia’s just jealous because she loves Hadden too much."

The words stung, but I didn’t have time to dwell on them. My emotions, combined with the virus exposure, were taking a toll. I felt the baby in my womb kicking frantically, my contractions starting.

Gritting my teeth, I forced myself to leave the bathroom and faced them.

"Hadden, I think I’m going into labor. The contractions are starting," I announced.

However, he didn’t even glance at me. Instead, he gently helped Cynthia into her protective suit and carried her out of the ward.

My colleagues even snickered and started their disdainful comments.

"You’re standing here perfectly fine, and now you’re claiming you’re having contractions?"

"Right? You’re a medical professional. Do you even believe yourself?"

Just then, the contractions came in waves, but they dismissed my pain as theatrics. Soon, my water broke and fluid pooled beneath me, but their jeers only grew harsher.

"Nydia, are you seriously wetting yourself in front of all of us?"

"How embarrassing. Ugly people really do cause the most trouble."

But, despite their humiliation, Hadden didn’t defend me. Instead, he glanced at the wet stain on my pants and sneered.

In my previous life, I had called the emergency line for him. At first, he hesitated outside the nurse’s station then after a while, he finally put a hazmat suit on me. For the sake of our child, he fed me the only vial of the antidote, saving my life.

Meanwhile, Cynthia succumbed to the virus. But then, he assured me her death wasn’t my fault and urged me not to let guilt affect the baby. As such, I was forced into an early hospital stay, surrounded by monitoring equipment, awaiting delivery.