When the plane suffered an emergency, my wife, the captain, snatched away my oxygen mask.
She watched indifferently as I suffocated and passed out, then kicked me out of the cabin to block the scorching heat.
That gave her a chance to survive.
The same thing happened in my previous life. She used me as a stepping stone to save the woman she loved.
The plane broke apart, and I was burned to ashes.
At my funeral, she wept inconsolably, yet used the betrothal gifts from my family as her dowry to marry her beloved.
But on her wedding day, she jumped to her death, overcome by depression.
She said she regretted it.
If she had another chance, she would save me.
When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of the disaster.
She grabbed me as I tried to parachute to safety, insisting that we die together.
