When the flood hit, my husband, Patrick Holmes, who was part of the rescue team, stood between me and his first love, Victoria Clarke, torn with hesitation written all over his face.

Without thinking twice, I shoved the only lifebuoy into Victoria's arms.

In my previous life, Patrick had handed the lifebuoy to me instead and stayed behind with Victoria, choosing to die alongside her. Just before they both drowned, rescuers arrived in the nick of time and pulled him out, but Victoria didn't make it—she drowned that day.

After that, he devoted himself completely to me, taking care of me in every moment of our daily lives. I had thought that the disaster made him cherish me more, but I was wrong—so terribly wrong.

While I was hospitalized, Patrick unplugged my oxygen tank himself. He hissed, "If you hadn't insisted on going home to rest that day, I wouldn't have been torn on who to save, and she wouldn't have died. Now, you'll atone to her in the afterlife."

I struggled helplessly as my vision blurred and death crept in. Then, everything went dark.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the very day the flood began.

"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?

My body trembled as memories of the past rushed over me. Victoria noticed it and gave me a once-over from head to toe.

She sneered, "It's just a flood, and it hasn't even fully hit yet. Yet, you're already shaking all over? I honestly don't know what Rick ever saw in you."

I did not say a word. Instead, I took a deep breath and tried to calm myself down.

I had heard those kinds of remarks too many times to count. To everyone else, Patrick and I were a mismatch. After all, he had the looks and charm, and Victoria was the college belle, adored by everyone on campus.

Meanwhile, I was ordinary.

After graduation, Victoria dumped Patrick for some wealthy man, claiming his family was too average and broke for her tastes.

After that, I had a crush on Patrick. Through a twist of fate, we somehow ended up married.

As I thought about it, a sharp ache spread across my chest like tiny needles pricking at my heart. I could not help but think that Patrick had regretted marrying me the moment he reconnected with Victoria.

They could have been together—openly and proudly—if Patrick had not married me. That must be why they could not stand the secrecy anymore, so they chose to die together.

A powerful gust made me instinctively shudder, and I snapped back to reality. In the distance, I saw our neighbors being rescued by the emergency crew.

Someone on the boat held a loudspeaker and shouted, "If you didn't make it onto this round, don't panic! We'll come back and get everyone we can!"

Not far away, I spotted Patrick furiously paddling our way. When he saw me, his expression twisted in frustration.

He barked, "Why are you home today? I told you, Vicky's just crashing at our place for a few days. We're married now, so what are you so afraid of? There's only one seat left on this boat, and the water's rising fast. Tell me—what are we supposed to do?!"

His eyes bounced between me and Victoria, filled with hesitation and guilt. That exact look and that exact scene had played out before.

In my last life, I watched him look at Victoria with a tenderness I had never seen in his eyes for me. I broke down and cried, screaming at him like a madwoman.

Maybe Patrick was sick of my outbursts because he suddenly threw the only lifebuoy at me and shouted for me to leave. I felt only revulsion as I watched them exchange that same heartfelt gaze again.

When he tossed the lifebuoy over, I caught it and immediately handed it to Victoria. I said, "Victoria, get on the boat and go."

She stared at me, eyes wide in disbelief. "Seriously? Don't you want me dead more than anything?"

Patrick's face twisted with panic as he shouted, "Esmeralda Spencer, if you've got a problem, take it out on me. Don't you dare hurt Vicky!"

The two of them looked at me warily, and anyone watching would have thought I had handed them a live grenade.

The strong wind whipped my hair across my face, blinding me for a second. I brushed it aside and looked straight at Patrich.

I said calmly, "This place is about to be completely underwater, and I just gave your beloved first love, Victoria, the only chance to escape. Shouldn't you be thanking me? If I wanted to hurt her, I would've drowned her before you even got here."

Patrick pressed his lips together and stared at me silently as if trying to see straight through me. A flicker of emotion crossed his eyes—one I could not quite read.

The next moment, Victoria hurriedly took the lifebuoy from my hands and slipped it on, her eyes teary. She sniffled, "I shouldn't have come to stay with you two. But since Esme said I can go first, Rick, please pull me onto the boat!"

Then, she continued to say, "Rick, Esme should be grateful she ever landed a man like you. And if things go bad today? Well, my child will owe her, and we'll visit her grave often with her favorite flowers—"

Patrick snapped out of it. With trembling hands, he grabbed the rope gently. "You're right. Esme is quite lucky to have gotten married to me. We'll make sure she's buried properly when this is all over."

Without another word, Victoria jumped into the water, clutching the lifebuoy, and Patrick carefully pulled her toward the boat. Then, he bent down and lifted her aboard.

Right in front of me, he checked her over meticulously to make sure she was not hurt, then strapped her into a life vest with tender care. After that, neither of them looked back.

Patrick started the motor and drove off without hesitation. As soon as their boat disappeared from my sight, the floodwater surged and quickly rose past my ankles.

I lowered my gaze, staring at the glinting ring on my left hand. Then, I slowly slipped it off and held it up to the light.

That was when I noticed, for the first time in all these years, that the inside of the band was engraved with their initials. It finally made sense why he treated the ring like it was sacred.

The one time I misplaced it in the living room, he completely lost it and snapped at me. "Do you even know how important this ring is? What if you'd lost it for good? Where am I supposed to find you another one exactly like it?"

Back then, I had carved a little figurine of the two of us out of wood and cut my hand doing it. I had taken the ring off to apply ointment and forgot to put it back on. I was so naive to believe that his outburst was proof of love.

I laughed bitterly at myself. I never would have guessed that the moment I removed it myself in this lifetime, I would discover its real secret.

As I thought that the ring must have been their little love token all along, a wave of nausea hit me. I immediately hurled the ring into the water and let the flood carry it away, along with all the years of my misplaced devotion.

Maybe it was the approach of death for the second time that made me so calm, but my mind suddenly wandered to Patrick's locked room.

I waded through the rising water and kicked the door open without hesitation. Inside, the room was filled—wall to wall—with memories of him and Victoria.

I let out a dry, mocking laugh.

In the past, I had only ever seen that kind of thing in TV dramas. I used to think it was romantic, so deeply emotional. Nonetheless, when my own husband was one doing it, all I felt was disgust.

I walked further in and started looking through their shared belongings. There were gifts from their younger days—a watch, dried flowers, bracelets, and so on.

So, Patrick had kept the artifacts of their relationship in our home—less than a hallway away from me—for seven years.

On the left wall, there were photos of the two of them. I casually pulled one off the wall and saw a message written behind it.

[Today marks our first anniversary. I swear I'll be with Vicky forever. If she dies, I won't go on living either.]

Tears welled up unexpectedly, and when I touched my cheek, my fingers came away wet.

So, they had already made a vow like that long ago. No wonder he had jumped so decisively in our last life despite how fiercely he usually clung to survival.

My heart finally shattered completely. I looked at the rapidly rising water, took a deep breath, and jumped in.

In a haze, flashes of memories with Patrick began to resurface.

We got married because of an unexpected incident. While our marriage was not exactly sweet, he treated me well and was always willing to compromise, at least initially.

That all changed the day Victoria suddenly showed up at our front door. She stood there with a radiant smile, casually greeting Patrick as if I did not even exist. Without warning, she walked straight in and wrapped her arms around him.

I was completely thrown off because I did not know who she was. I shot up from the couch, yanked her away, and shouted, demanding to know why she was trespassing and clinging to my husband.

Patrick's face instantly darkened. He stood up and scolded me in front of her, yelling that I should stop spouting nonsense—and that if I kept going, he would not hesitate to file for divorce.

His sudden change in attitude scared me. I cried, begging him to explain how he could stand there and let a stranger break into our home and hug him like that. Yet, all he gave me was a dismissive wave and irritation. He said Victoria was just a college friend who had dropped by to catch up.

She was just a college friend, yet he would bend over backward for her.

Later, Patrick found her a rental place to stay, cooked her meals, took her out for fun, and even offered his own body heat when she said she was cold.

I could not take that kind of blatant betrayal, so I fought back. Sadly, every argument only earned me more lectures.

He would say, "Nothing is going on between me and Vicky. Can you stop twisting every normal interaction into something dirty?"

He also said, "Who I talk to and how I treat them is none of your business. Just because I married you doesn't mean I'm not allowed to be around other women. What did you expect me to do—leave her in the cold and pretend I didn't know her?"

I used to cry myself to sleep over words like those. Now, thinking back, I only felt sorry for my past self.

Eventually, I steadied my breathing and pushed myself forward, swimming toward the closest rescue boat. I prayed that this gamble would buy me a second chance.

Debris floated everywhere in the murky floodwater, dangerous objects drifting aimlessly, just waiting to injure anyone in their path. I was lucky—every time something rushed toward me, I managed to dodge at the last second.

However, a wooden plank came barreling through the current, cutting through the water like a weapon aimed straight at me. My instincts kicked in, and I dove beneath the surface, holding my breath just in time to avoid the impact.

I remembered that there had been a long gash on Victoria's arm when they recovered her body. It hit me that Patrick had only survived because Victoria, a strong swimmer, had pushed the plank out of his way.

No wonder he made it until the rescue team arrived.

As that realization dawned on me, I accidentally inhaled too much water. My body convulsed with the sharp pain, and I felt my consciousness fading before I could reach the boat.

...

When I opened my eyes again, I found myself staring at the ceiling of a hospital room.

A moment later, a nurse walked up to my bedside. She asked gently, "You're awake! Are you feeling any pain or discomfort?"

I shook my head slowly and murmured, "Just a little dizzy."

She looked down, jotting notes into her chart. Soon, a doctor behind her said, "Thank goodness you're finally awake! You're in pretty rough shape, so we strongly recommend contacting a family member to help with the hospital admission paperwork."

I froze for a moment, then gave him Patrick's phone number. In this world, he was the only person who could technically be called my family.

The doctor nodded and quickly dialed the number, putting the call on speaker in front of me.

Patrick's voice came through the phone, sounding a bit hoarse. "Who's this?"

Next to him, a woman's voice spoke sweetly. "Rick, I want some soup. Can you feed it to me?"

Patrick immediately agreed, followed by the clinking of dishes and silverware.

The doctor coughed several times awkwardly, trying to interrupt them. "Is this Mr. Patrick Holmes? Your wife was rescued after nearly drowning in the flood. She's currently being treated at Northside Hospital. Please come over as soon as possible."

There was silence on the other end for a moment. Then, I heard the sound of porcelain shattering.

A commotion broke out, and Patrick angrily questioned the doctor. He asked, "Who the hell are you? Everyone knows Esme drowned. Her body was never even found! If you're trying to scam money from me, forget it!"

Seeing the doctor's embarrassed expression, I took the phone and spoke calmly, "I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I'm very much alive. Get over here right now."

Patrick hesitated, words stuck in his throat before he finally responded, clearly flustered. "I—I don't believe you! I know AI is advanced these days. You're just imitating her voice!"

With that, he hung up immediately.

The doctor and nurse stared at me, stunned by what they had just witnessed.

"Mr. Holmes is a real piece of work!"

Someone chimed in, "Wait, Patrick Holmes? Isn't he the second-in-command of the rescue team? I remember him crying to the news reporters yesterday afternoon, claiming he saw his wife drown right in front of his eyes."

"You're right! Ms. Spencer was rescued by a good samaritan who happened to pass by, not even by the rescue team."

"What is going on?"

I could hardly believe it either. I never would have guessed Patrick would publicly claim he watched me drown. Clearly, he did not want me to survive and was probably terrified that if I had lived, I would cause trouble for him and Victoria.

I took a deep breath, gripping the sheets tightly to stop myself from crying.

The nurse saw my reaction and quickly stepped forward, apologizing for her careless comments and trying to comfort me. Meanwhile, the doctor sighed and reassured me gently, saying at least I had seen Patrick's true colors.

After they gave me some instructions to aid my recovery, they both hurried out of the room.

The room fell silent once more. Unable to hold back any longer, I cursed Patrick out loud, venting all my anger and bitterness into the empty room.

I rested at the hospital for another day, and to my surprise, Victoria showed up.