When my three-year-old son has an asthma attack, I don't hold him or try to save him. I watch coldly as his breathing slowly stops...
In my previous life, after my husband died, I raised my son alone.
To cure his illness, I worked three jobs a day and slept only four hours a night.
While sweeping the streets in the early hours of the morning, I was struck and flung aside by a large truck.
But after I was taken to the hospital, my son gave up on my treatment and pulled out my oxygen tube.
Only then did I learn that he wasn't my biological son.
"Sis, you didn't see this coming, did you? The day the babies were born, I switched them! Hahaha!"
"You spent your entire fortune treating my son. Your real son was beaten crippled by me and thrown into a sewer. The rats have already eaten him!"
My own younger sister drove me to my death with her cruel words. I watched helplessly as she sold my house and lived a happy life with her beloved son.
When I awoke from the nightmare, I had been reborn on the day my son suffered his first attack...
