When I was eighteen years old, I realized that I had been married to the wrong daughter. On the day I was taken back, the fake daughter, who was in poor health, was admitted to the ICU. My mother slapped me: "Why do you want to come back at this time? Don't you know she can't stand the stimulation?" My brother grabbed my neck, his eyes red: "If anything happens to her, I want you to pay with your life." Then one day, they suddenly changed. My mother started making soup for me, my father took the initiative to ask me if I had enough pocket money, and my brother even gave me a limited edition Rab doll on my birthday. I was flattered and fell asleep holding the doll, thinking that the pain was finally over. Until seven days later, I suddenly fell to the ground with heart attack. Before his consciousness dissipated, he saw another "me" standing at the head of the bed, smiling proudly. "Sister, I will accept your body. Thank you for dying for me." It turns out that everything they did was just to snatch my body for the fake daughter.
