I Saved Her Life, She Took Mine

The moment I discover I'm pregnant, Courtney Smith, the leukemia patient I saved three years ago, turns up on my doorstep once again.

She claims that her leukemia has relapsed again, so she wants me to abort my baby in order to save her life again.

But I'm pregnant with my deceased police husband's baby. So, I tell her that I can only donate my bone marrow to her once I've given birth to my baby.

After hearing my answer, not only do Courtney and her family not feel any gratitude toward me, but they also berate me for not helping them out till the end.

"You can still have another baby once you lose this one! But if your pregnancy affects my illness in any way, will you be able to take responsibility over this?"

Then, the Smiths abduct me to a shady hospital, where they forcibly put me through an abortion and remove my bone marrow.

While their operation is a success, my baby and I end up dying on the surgical table.

As they gaze at our corpses, the Smiths' faces are plastered with icy expressions.

"Don't blame us for what we did. If you were the one with leukemia, we'd still make Court donate her bone marrow to you. One's life is determined by fate. If you can't survive, that just means you're fated to die."

When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the timeframe three days before Courtney finds out about her leukemia relapse.

In my past life, I had anonymously donated my bone marrow to save a leukemia patient.

I had thought that we would never cross paths again. What I never expected was that, three years later, Courtney Smith's leukemia had relapsed.

Even worse, her family bribed their way through hospital connections and tracked down my home address.

Courtney dropped to her knees in front of me, crying as she begged me to donate my bone marrow again. "You saved my life three years ago. Why can't you just see this through?"

But I was pregnant now, and donating my bone marrow would mean losing the baby. So, I told them that I'd donate after the baby was born.

However, the Smith family turned on me instantly.

"Isabella Carter! You can always have another child! But if Courtney's condition worsens because of your pregnancy, can you really take responsibility for that?" they lashed out without restraint.

Courtney even went as far as to say that I was carrying a fatherless child and that it would be better if I got rid of it.

Her words snapped the last of my restraint. In a fit of rage, I threw them all out of my house.

Later, the Smiths sued me, accusing me of refusing to save Courtney's life.

Even after losing the case, they refused to let it go. Instead, they abducted me and took me to an illegal clinic, where they forcibly extracted my bone marrow.

The transplant was a success, but my baby died during the operation.

As I lay there, barely alive, I could see the indifference and feigned concern on their faces.

"Don't blame us. If you were the one with leukemia, we would've made Courtney donate for you, too. One's life is determined by fate. But if you couldn't survive, that just meant you were unlucky."

In the end, I bled to death on the operating table, consumed by bitterness and hatred.

…

When I opened my eyes again, I found myself three days away from Courtney's leukemia relapse.

In a daze, I placed a hand over my stomach, tears streaming down my face.

My husband, Elijah Hayes, had been a police officer. Three months earlier, he had been killed in the line of duty while protecting civilians during a confrontation with a violent criminal.

I suppressed my grief and swore that I would raise our child no matter what.

But in my past life, the Smith family had strapped me to an operating table, ignored my desperate pleas, and forcibly extracted my bone marrow. I could only watch as my baby dissolved into a pool of blood.

As soon as the memory resurfaced, hatred raged through me like a wildfire.

I had saved Courtney's life out of compassion, and she repaid me by killing my child. This time, I would make her pay in blood.

With that in mind, I steadied my emotions and dialed Courtney's number.

Once the call connected, her voice came through the line. "Hello? Who is this?"

My voice choked with sobs as I told her that I was the one who had donated my bone marrow to save her three years ago, and that I had just been diagnosed with leukemia.

Before I could finish, Courtney hung up on me.

When I tried calling again, I realized she had already blocked my number.

"Courtney Smith," I muttered, "you didn't think you'd get away with this, did you?"