“Everyone, stay calm and listen to the rescue team’s instructions. Board the boat in an orderly fashion!” 

The familiar voice snapped me awake, and I looked down and realized I was still alive. I thought God must have taken pity on me because I had somehow been given a second chance at life. 

In a daze, I noticed a hand clinging tightly to mine. My instinct kicked in, and I struggled, only to meet the gaze of my husband’s first love, Victoria Clarke. 

Victoria glared at me, her voice sharp with entitlement as she said, “I’m pregnant. If there’s only one spot left on the boat, you’re letting me go first.” 

I laughed and rolled my eyes. “I’m stranded, too. Why should I give up my seat for you? Why the hell should your kid be my problem?” 

Victoria looked at me in disbelief, then began scolding me with a righteous tone. “If you hadn’t insisted on going home to rest, I would’ve been rescued by now! You’re so paranoid about me and Rick—news flash, nothing’s going on! But thanks to you, there’s a shortage of rescue boats, and who knows if there’ll even be enough spots left!” 

She clutched my hand even tighter, terrified I might get rescued before her. We were huddled on a second-floor balcony, quietly waiting for help to arrive. 

I glanced down at her hand wrapped around mine and felt a storm of emotions rise inside me. 

That was the moment fate had rewound me to. 

In my last life, I found out while I was at work that my husband, Patrick Holmes, had brought Victoria to stay at our house, saying she needed a place to crash for a few days. 

I knew Patrick had never truly let her go, so I took the day off, desperate to rush home and stop whatever was going on. Unexpectedly, a flash flood swept through the neighborhood, drowning most of the area in minutes. 

Patrick, the head of the local rescue team, rowed over to save us. The water was too violent, and we needed a lifebuoy to board the boat safely. 

At that crucial moment, Patrick made a decision. He threw me the only life preserver and shouted, “Live for me. Go see the world out there.” 

Then, he jumped into the water, choosing to stay behind and die with Victoria. He said, “Vicky, if we can die together in this lifetime, maybe that’s a kind fate for us too.” 

However, fate had its own twist. Only Victoria died—Patrick was pulled from the flood just in time by his teammates. 

Afterward, I developed a critical illness and could only survive with the help of an oxygen tank. One day, while the nurse had stepped out, Patrick pulled the plug on my oxygen and tried to kill me. 

The memory of that moment—the panic, the helplessness—still made me tremble. He was the one who brought Victoria into our home against my wishes. He was the one who chose to save me and throw her life away. He was the one who leaped into the flood for her. 

So how did it all become my fault? 

Why was I the one who had to pay for Victoria’s life?