When gas leaked and I collapsed at home from severe bleeding,
my husband, the head of the rescue team, sent everyone to save his suicidal beloved, his cherished moonlight.
This time, I'd learned my lesson. I didn't call him. I quietly watched as darkness closed in around me.
In my previous life, he answered my call first and brought people to save me.
But his beloved had slit her wrists in the bathtub at home and died.
My husband said everyone had their fate, and that he didn't regret saving me and our child.
But on the night I gave birth, his eyes bloodshot, he tied me to the bed and let me and our child die together.
When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of the gas leak.
This time, he wanted to save his beloved, so I'd let him have his way.
I could survive on my own.
