During my night shift, I refused to help my adopted sister administer fluids to her patient.

After the wrong drug is given, I watch a seven-year-old boy die after he suffers an allergic reaction right before my eyes.

In my previous life, the boy's family stormed the nurses' station after I'd just finished administering his IV medication. The next thing I knew, I was violently beaten up.

"You poisoned my grandchild by giving him the wrong medicine!"

But the fluid I introduced into his bloodstream was a simple glucose solution. It couldn't have led to such a disastrous outcome.

When I was on the brink of passing out, someone called the police. I thought help had finally arrived, but I was sorely mistaken.

The police officer—my brother—pinned me to the ground.

"We found your prints on the drug vial. You're a murderer."

Then, my childhood friend, a forensic pathologist, held up an autopsy report and accused me of the same crime.

"The patient's time of death is around 5:00 am. That's the same time you administered drugs into his system."

Unable to prove my innocence, I was ultimately beaten to death by the boy's enraged family members.

My brother and my childhood friend had always loved me. Even on the brink of death, I couldn't understand why they would do this to me.

Now, I open my eyes and find myself back on the night it all began.

"Mia has a stomach bug, Nat. Since you're working the night shift anyway, would you mind filling in for her?"

Shocked by the sound of my brother's warm voice, my entire body trembled.

I glanced at the clock on the wall and found that it was currently 2:00 am. After staring at the busy nurses' station for a long time, I finally realized that I'd been reborn.

When Mia caught me zoning out, she shoved me with an irritated look on her face.

"If you agree to this, I'm going to gather my things and leave," she said. "My stomach is killing me. I need to head home and get some rest. After I leave, you'll need to remember to give the patient on bed six his fluids at 5:00 a.m."

In my previous life, I agreed to help Mia out as a favor to my brother.

Back then, once I got to the patient's bed, I instantly noticed that something was amiss. The young boy was practically buried beneath the blanket. I could only see his face, and he looked extremely pale under the moonlight.

I was just about to check on him when Mia called me.

"Did you finish administering the fluids?" she asked over the phone.

Slightly confused, I replied, "He's practically out cold. Something isn't adding up. Let me check on him really quickly."

Upon hearing this, Mia immediately got very worked up.

"The kid's been nothing but trouble the entire day. Now that he's finally asleep, are you seriously going to wake him up?" she questioned.

Still feeling somewhat concerned, I asked, "Where are his parents? Why doesn't he have a guardian with him?"

"Why are you so concerned? It's not like you need to reinsert the catheter or anything. You just need to give him a new vial of medicine.

"Why do you have so many questions about such a simple procedure? Do you really want to wake the patient up?" Mia complained.

I took a quick look at the label on the vial. Then, I relaxed when I realized that it was just a glucose solution.

However, that single lapse in judgment ended up turning me into a murderer.

The next day, I was just about to wrap up my shift when family members of the boy stormed into the nurses' station and gave me a beating without any explanation.

I later found out that the boy, Max Campbell, had died from an anaphylactic shock. As it turned out, I was the last person who had given him fluids.

Despite that, things weren't adding up. I only gave him glucose, which was something he had been receiving without any complications before. There was no way he would've developed an allergic reaction to it now.

After the incident broke out, Mia blamed everything on me.

"Natalie was the one who gave him the fluids. This has nothing to do with me," she declared.

Initially, I thought my brother and childhood friend would help me. They were the two people I trusted most in this world. So, I believed that they would help me figure out the truth.

To my dismay, my brother, a police officer, ended up accusing me of being the perpetrator.

"We found Natalie's fingerprints on the drug vial," my brother, David Hoffman, stated. "She's definitely the one who killed the patient."

Then came Nick Carter, my childhood friend.

Nick, who was now a forensic pathologist, flung the autopsy report at me and barked, "His time of death indicates that he died right after you gave him the fluids. What do you have to say for yourself now?"

I couldn't prove my innocence back then. In the end, the victim's family members cornered me outside the police station and beat me to death as David and Nick watched from the sidelines.

I'd always treated David and Nick with love and respect. Even when I was on the brink of death, I couldn't figure out why they would betray me like that.

I could still recall how painful it felt when I was violently beaten to death.

Now that I had been reborn, I was planning to do whatever it took to prevent history from repeating itself.

David's anxious voice from the other end of the phone snapped me out of my trip down memory lane.

"Hello? Natalie? Can you give me a reply? I need to pick Mia up from the hospital now," he pressed for an answer.

I hadn't realized how anxious he sounded in my previous life. He pushed me to help Mia before swiftly turning around to pin the crime on me. It was almost as if he were afraid of dragging Mia into this mess.

Was David involved in all of this? I couldn't help but shudder at the thought.

I glanced at Mia through my peripheral vision. She looked visibly distressed and kept sneaking glances at room 302. It was as if she was hiding a huge secret in that room.

I cleared my throat and put on a calm demeanor.

"I can't cover her shift. I just helped out at the ER, so I'm exhausted. Besides, I have my own patients to tend to. I'm afraid I won't be able to help Mia out," I replied.

Mia turned around in shock. Since she wasn't expecting me to turn down her request, she instantly got worked up over my reply.

"What? I just need you to give him some fluids! It wouldn't even take up much of your time. Why are you refusing to help me with such a small task?" she barked.

"It's just a small favor, Natalie. Why won't you help Mia out? I'm so disappointed in you," my brother reprimanded me in a stern voice.

Since I didn't want to waste my breath any longer, I hung up the phone and proceeded to tend to other matters.

Mia rolled her eyes and began to grumble under her breath, "What a selfish woman. I knew I couldn't count on you to help me out."

When I chose to help her without any hesitation in my past life, she ended up throwing me under the bus. Hence, I refused to help her again.

Mia usually acted obnoxiously and arrogantly. On top of that, she'd constantly pawn her work off on the other nurses. Aside from me, no one at the nurses' station seemed to want anything to do with her.

So, when she went around asking for help, everyone turned her down. In the end, her stomach ache went away, and she stormed off to the washroom, feeling annoyed.

Why was she in such a hurry to get someone to take over her shift? Did something happen to Max already?

In order to confirm my suspicions, I put on a pair of gloves and headed to room 302 after Mia left.

Max looked shockingly pale under the moonlight. When I lifted the covers and checked his body temperature, I froze in shock.

Max was cold to the touch, and his body was in rigor mortis. In other words, he had to have been dead for at least an hour.

Mia was the one who gave him his IV medication at 1:00 am. Did she accidentally kill him by giving him the wrong drug an hour ago? Was that why she was frantically looking for someone to pin the blame on?

My entire body began to tremble out of fear as the thought crossed my mind.

My first instinct was to inform the hospital of the situation, but I immediately dismissed the idea before I could act on it.

I was currently in the room of a patient I wasn't responsible for. Judging by how irresponsible Mia was, she'd definitely accuse me of killing Max and pin the blame on me. So, once I made sure no one noticed, I swiftly left the hospital room.

After standing at the nurses' station for what seemed like forever, I calmed down and realized something important.

If the patient was already dead around 1:00 am, why did Nick's autopsy report state that the time of death was between 5:00 am to 6:00 am?

Nick was known as a genius forensic pathologist. He was so skilled that he was able to narrow down the exact time of death with only a one-hour margin of error. He had never made a single mistake in his entire career.

So, how did such a professional forensic pathologist make such a big mistake?

My head was throbbing. I couldn't figure out what was going on, no matter how hard I tried.

Nick and I were childhood friends. He'd always protected me and looked after me like a knight in shining armor. So, why did he help Mia frame me?

I buried myself in work and ignored Mia the entire night. She was pacing around the nurses' station and seemed incredibly anxious.

It was almost 5:00 am by now, and she was still sitting on her chair while holding a medical tray. It didn't seem like she was planning to administer Max's next IV drip at all.

Eventually, all of our colleagues left to tend to their own matters. Then, when Mia and I were the only ones left at the nurses' station, she shot me a glance before quietly heading to room 302.

When it was almost time for Max's family to cause a scene, I got up from my seat and found a place to hide. Not a moment later, I heard familiar, gut-wrenching cries coming from room 302.

"Wake up, my dear grandson! You're scaring your grandma."

"Son? What happened to you, my boy? Please wake up."

"Max, my baby. The doctor told us you'd be able to return home soon. How could this happen? How are we supposed to live without you?"

After some commotion, the trio angrily made their way to the nurses' station.

Furious, Max's father demanded to meet the nurse on duty and the one responsible for administering the IV medication.

Mia, who was fearfully hiding in a corner, scanned her surroundings and tried to locate my whereabouts.

The other nurses pointed at her with a terrified expression and said, "Mia is the one who's been tending to Max all this time."

Before Mia could say anything, Max's father marched up to her and punched her in the eye. Then, just as Mia regained her footing, Max's mother kicked her in the stomach.

After being simultaneously attacked by Max's parents, Mia was now lying on the floor, wailing in agony.

Subsequently, Max's grandmother pinned her to the ground and began violently yanking on her hair.

"You're the one who killed my beloved grandson!" Max's grandmother exclaimed in anger. "I've disliked you for quite some time now. You're nothing but a troublemaker."

She continued, "You'll pay for what you did. I'm going to kill you!"

When I walked over to the nurses' station, Mia, who was covered in blood, caught sight of me.

"I was on duty, but Natalie was the one who gave him the drugs. She must've messed up!" She pointed a finger at me and yelled.

In my previous life, I was just about to get off work after a long shift when Max's family confronted me at the nurses' station.

When they demanded answers, Mia immediately pinned the blame on me.

"Natalie was on duty that night. She was the one who administered the fluids. I had nothing to do with it," she'd told them.

Before I could explain myself, I was violently beaten up by Max's family members.

Max Campbell was seven, and he was an only child. His father looked like a powerful man, and his mother was a lawyer. His grandmother, on the other hand, was known for being an unreasonable woman.

As a young woman who just turned 25, I had no way of defending myself against them. I was powerless and helpless.

In my current life, I refused to let Mia use the same tricks to twist the truth again.