Chapter 1

On the thirtieth day of my silent struggle with my husband, he suggested a trip to patch things up between us. But as soon as we arrived, he broke my ID, smashed my phone, and left me stranded on a remote island to fend for myself.

When someone questioned his harshness, he was dismissive, accompanying his lifelong friend, Lydia, to a prenatal appointment:

"It's not my fault she's so petty. I just used IVF to help Lydia become a mother, and now she's demanding a divorce."

"The baby is due in eight months. There's water and food on the island. She won't starve; she just needs to learn a lesson."

Eight months later, holding his newborn son, my husband seemed pleased and asked his assistant:

"Has she not begged to come back yet?"

He didn't know that I had died on the island the very first day.

When I opened my eyes again, my spirit found itself in a delivery room.

Declan, now a new father, awkwardly cradled the baby, his eyes filled with tenderness.

His lifelong friend, Lydia, her hair damp with sweat, weakly asked:

"Declan, we have a son now. Do you love him?"

I felt disoriented. So, I had been dead for that long.

Their child had been born.

I touched my own belly.

If my child had survived, they would have been a month old by now.

As Declan emerged holding the baby, a crowd gathered to celebrate his precious son's birth, setting off fireworks and distributing red envelopes.

"Declan, this kid is adorable, a perfect mix of you and Lydia. He's going to grow up to be a handsome man!"

These people once called me "sister-in-law" and indignantly criticized Declan's decision to go through with IVF, condemning Lydia for pretending.

But they only flattered me because I was Declan's wife.

Declan smiled at their words, but his gaze frequently drifted to the end of the corridor. Distracted, he picked up his phone and frowned at his assistant:

"I told you to get her a new phone. Why hasn't she contacted me these past months or asked to come back?"

The assistant lied smoothly:

"Nora always curses at you and Lydia, saying she doesn't want any communication with you."

Declan's frown deepened:

"Stubborn. She's too headstrong."

"Tell her the child is born. My task is done."

"If she sincerely calls to apologize and agrees to be the child's godmother, I'll bring her back."

I chuckled bitterly.

He didn't know I was already dead.

Nine months earlier, during a prenatal check-up, I accidentally discovered that Declan and Lydia were undergoing IVF.

He told me that Lydia was terminally ill and wanted to experience motherhood.

I was so furious I miscarried and, feeling hopeless, filed for divorce.

Declan and I didn't speak for a month.

Later, he surprisingly initiated a conversation, suggesting a trip to mend our relationship, promising to destroy the IVF embryos upon our return.

I believed him, only to be left to die on an isolated island.

Returning to the present, Lydia, lying in bed, pitifully said:

"Declan, if Nora returns, she won’t hit me again, right? She can harm me, but not our child!"

She adjusted her position, deliberately exposing a small scar on her forehead.

I knew the scar was from Lydia provoking me and intentionally hitting a wall after I found out about the IVF.

Because of this, Declan despised me, thinking I bullied even someone terminally ill.

Declan looked at her with pain in his eyes, speaking firmly:

"If she dares to harm you and our child, I'll make sure she never comes back!"

The crowd laughed:

"Declan, you're still as protective of Lydia as ever. Now that the child is born, I remember you and Lydia were betrothed from childhood. It's meant to be!"

"Yeah, Declan, children need complete parental love! Nora's so petty and extreme. I'm really afraid of what she might do to the child!"

Declan didn't respond, just turned to his assistant:

"Did you send the message? How did she reply?"

The next moment, Declan's phone buzzed.

His eyes brightened, thinking it was me, and he smiled:

"Nora, you finally…"

But the voice on the other end stunned him:

"Are you the husband of Nora? We'd like to know if you can come to Serenity Temple to pick up a longevity locket."

Declan asked:

"What longevity locket?"

The other end sighed:

"A year ago, Miss Jiang came to our temple, bowing every step, wishing for her critically ill husband's safety. Later, she returned to express her gratitude, saying her husband recovered and she was pregnant. Our abbot said she was blessed and specially consecrated a longevity locket for her child's safety, but we haven't been able to reach her for months."

When Declan was diagnosed with late-stage heart failure, I tried everything to treat him, even begged the heavens, bowing until my head was bloody.

Later, I happily returned to the temple, thinking we'd overcome this and found hope.

But in the end, I lost everything.

I clutched my aching heart, a bitter smile on my lips.

Turns out, even an artificial heart could hurt this much.

The crowd was stunned:

"Who would have thought Nora was so devoted? When you had heart failure, we all thought she ran away to avoid responsibility. Looks like we misunderstood her…"

Declan suddenly clutched his chest lightly, frowning deeply.

After a moment, he coldly laughed:

"No need. Toss the longevity locket."

He hung up the call.

Lowering his gaze, he scoffed:

"That's the difference between Nora and Lydia."

"Nora only does things to comfort herself, while Lydia saved my life! If it weren't for Lydia's heart donation, I'd be dead!"

"Lydia's life is short because of it, but Nora? She only knew how to be jealous, deliberately causing an accident to lose the child, and then demanded a divorce!"

Bitterness filled my mouth.

I was the one who donated my heart to Declan.

The doctor told me that even if I paid a high price for an artificial heart transplant and took medication daily, with current technology, I'd only live another year or two.

I didn't regret it, grateful for the time I had left.

But when I woke from a coma, I found Declan tearfully thanking Lydia for donating her heart to him.

I tried to explain countless times, but he accused me of imitating without success.

It wasn't until I discovered I was pregnant that our relationship somewhat mended.

Lydia visited me once, clutching her heart, looking desolate:

"Too bad, I won't live long. I probably can't have my own children or see yours, Declan."

Declan didn't hesitate to give Lydia the chance to be a mother.

That led to the tragedy that followed.

Listening to Declan's accusations, the crowd exchanged glances, the air thick with tension.

To ease it, they turned on the TV:

"Declan, you just had a baby boy. Don't be so angry, relax a bit."

Unexpectedly, the news was showing:

"A drone survey discovered a woman's skeleton on a Pacific island. This is an advancement in drone technology…"

Declan's head snapped up, eyes widening:

"Which island?"