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.

Nydia's POV

Hadden said he would personally deliver my baby, but the moment I gave birth, he injected our newborn with a lethal dose right in front of me.

The baby didn’t even get the chance to cry. Its tiny body stiffened in his arms, breathless and lifeless.

He then laughed—a sound so cold it froze me in place.

“I’ve been waiting for this moment,” he said, his voice sharp with malice. “Nydia, did you know? Cynthia died in my arms just like this. This baby looks just like her... No, Cynthia had it worse. Much worse.”

Glaring at me, he continued, “Tell me, why did she have to die because of you? She begged me not to blame you, even while she was suffering. It should be you who died then, not her! You don’t deserve to live. You don’t deserve anything!”

And so, I gave him what he wanted—I died on the delivery table, my lifeless baby by my side.

But fate was cruel. Even after being given a second chance, I couldn’t escape Hadden’s cold-heartedness.

“Hadden, you should go check on Nydia,” I heard Cynthia plead softly. “What if she’s not pretending? I’d feel guilty.”

“Don’t worry, Cynthia,” he replied, his tone as gentle as ever when speaking to her. “Nydia is the head nurse. She knows her own condition better than anyone. Besides, you’re already weak from your hospital stay, and now you’ve inhaled the virus. Even with the antidote, it won’t work immediately. Stop worrying about her—have you forgotten how she treated you?”

It wasn’t just Hadden who defended her. Even my coworkers, the people I worked with every day, took her side.

In my previous life, Cynthia sent me a taunting text. She accused me of monopolizing Hadden’s time, saying he spent all his hours outside of work with me. She told me she was going to take him back, the man who had been by her side since childhood.

A few days later, she claimed she wasn’t feeling well and requested to be hospitalized—not just anywhere, but in our department. As such, Hadden pulled every string he could to make it happen, and before long, she was settled in.

But no matter how many tests I ran, I couldn’t find any real illness. However, her performance was flawless. She stirred up misunderstanding after misunderstanding, painting herself as the victim.

With that, everyone believed her. With just a few words from her, everyone accused me of hiding her condition. And Hadden? He stopped coming home at night, staying by her bedside instead.

At first, my coworkers whispered about it behind my back. But soon, they didn’t bother hiding it. They told me to my face that Hadden and Cynthia were a perfect match. They criticized me, saying I was not only unprofessional but also petty, interfering with Hadden’s work as her attending physician.

I couldn’t bear the pain anymore. The contractions were relentless, and I was desperate to get out of that contaminated ward. “Please,” I begged, “take me out of here.”

But no one listened. Just outside the ward, my legs gave out, and I collapsed to the ground.

“Nydia, you weren’t even at the nurse’s station when we arrived. So how come you'll be infected by the virus? Drop the act now! Do you think we’re stupid?”

In their eyes, I was nothing but a jealous, vindictive woman.

But soon, Hadden approached me in his hazmat suit. I thought, foolishly, that he might offer me some kindness. But I was wrong.

As I reached out to grab the hem of his pants, he coldly pulled back his foot and kicked me over. I fell backward and warm fluid quickly pooled beneath me as I lay there helplessly.

But despite that, he didn’t care. Not about me, not about our baby.

“Weren’t you always so good at scheming?” he mocked. “What happened? You tried to release the virus to harm someone and ended up taking yourself down instead?”

He laughed cruelly. “You’re an idiot. Next time you try to hurt someone, use your brain.”

He thought I was the one who opened the vial. Did he think so highly of himself that he believed I’d ruin lives for his sake?

“As the head nurse, you should know better. Leaking an experimental virus is a serious medical offense,” he continued. “Do you have any idea of the consequences? Do you know how much of our research you’ve just destroyed because of your carelessness?”

Nydia's POV

"Even the higher-ups won't let you off the hook for this!"

Hadden kept rattling off my supposed crimes, but his words blurred into the background. My mind was foggy, and the contractions were hitting harder and faster.

"Dr. Fletcher, I think Nydia is really going into labor," one of the coworkers finally noticed, seeing me struggling to breathe, my lower body soaked in a mixture of amniotic fluid and blood.

"Nydia, I've observed you’ve been drinking soda lately—couldn't it be due to that?" Cynthia said.

"Yeah, you might be right," another chimed in. "She probably has a UTI or something. Maybe she’s just peeing blood."

"Cynthia, you’re so smart—definitely sharper than some people. It's a pity you're still a nurse."

"Oh, stop it, Hadden, you’re just flattering me!” Cynthia giggled, and they continued flirting like it was just another ordinary day.

I couldn’t take it anymore. Through gritted teeth, I forced out a plea: "For the baby’s sake, please help me."

"Stop pretending," Hadden snapped, his tone icy. "What? Trying to win sympathy now? If you’re in such a hurry, go to the obstetrics ward yourself. You’re a nurse, aren’t you? Or are you just that bad at your job? If so, I really should report you and get you fired."

He muttered something else under his breath, but I didn’t catch it. My survival instincts kicked in, and I reached out to grab his hazmat suit, but my fingers slipped.

Just like that, they all walked away, sprayed disinfectant everywhere, sealed the windows, turned off the lights, and locked the doors behind them, just like they would at the end of any regular shift.

By then, it was night. The emergency exit signs cast a faint green glow in the dark, barely illuminating the ward.

I had no choice. I dragged my heavy body, step by agonizing step, to the restroom. Once there, I stripped off my nurse's uniform and laid it over the toilet seat. I had to deliver my baby alone.

The pain was unbearable. Without any pain relief, I passed out from the agony, only to wake up again when the contractions hit harder.

Time blurred. I could feel the baby crowning, but then—suddenly—there was nothing. The baby stopped moving.

I knew what that meant. My baby was suffocating, and there was nothing I could do. The floor of the restroom stall was soaked with blood and other fluids, but I pushed one last time, summoning every ounce of strength I had left. Something slid out of me, and then... darkness.

When I woke up, I was lying in the obstetrics ward.

“You’re awake?” The voice belonged to Elise Field, a young intern. She stood by my bedside, her expression filled with unease.

For some reason, my chest felt hollow, as if something vital had been ripped away.

“Miss Nydia, when I came in this morning to open the ward, I found you in the restroom. You’ve already delivered the baby…” Her voice faltered, and I knew what was coming.

Tears blurred my vision before she could finish.

“I brought you here as quickly as I could, but… the baby’s face was blue. It must’ve been deprived of oxygen for too long. It was a stillbirth.”

I didn’t respond. I didn’t cry or scream. I just sat there on the hospital bed, numb.

The urge to cry was gone, as was the ability to feel sorrow. At that moment, it was as if my entire being had emptied itself. There was nothing left inside.

Two of the most important people in my life—my baby and Hadden—had disappeared from my world in a single moment.

“Miss Nydia, I haven’t told the others yet. I’ll go inform Dr. Fletcher now,” Elise said hesitantly.

“No need. Thank you, Elise,” I said quietly.

She hesitated at first, but then later sighed and left.

A while later, the obstetrician came in, concern and frustration written all over her face. “You’re a nurse. Why didn’t you come to the obstetrics ward sooner? Do you realize how dangerous this was?”

Her tone softened, but her worry didn’t waver. “Your body is in bad shape. You need to rest properly during your recovery.”

“Thank you for your concern, Doc. Could you help me with the discharge paperwork?” I asked emotionlessly.

The doctor’s face darkened. “You’re being reckless! That intern mentioned your husband is a doctor here too. Which department? I’ll call him. How could he neglect you like this?”

“There’s no need. He’s probably too busy to notice,” I replied with a bitter smile.

On my way out of the hospital, I passed by the patient wards. I was in an adult diaper with a urine bag hanging from my side.