After my reincarnation, when McVeigh’s student deliberately locked me in the MRI machine again, I neither cried nor made a scene. I simply closed my eyes calmly and slept. After all, in my previous life, because I was trapped in the MRI for six hours, I, in my anger, went to the hospital to complain about McVeigh’s student, Chloe. After Chloe lost her medical license, McVeigh hated me. He retaliated against me cruelly, as if I were an enemy, not only forcing a divorce where I left with nothing, but even when I was diagnosed with brain cancer and desperately needed him, a nationally renowned brain cancer expert, to save my life, he showed no mercy. He even warned all his former students not to treat me. Finally, penniless and nearly despairing from brain cancer, I crashed my car at the entrance of the house that had once been our marital home, ending my life. So, in this new life, sleeping for six hours in an MRI machine is nothing. It’s okay, as long as I can receive McVeigh’s treatment and survive. 1 When I opened my eyes again, it was McVeigh who woke me. He looked at me in horror. “Elle, how… how are you stuck in the MRI?” In my previous life, McVeigh also entered the examination room at this moment. However, he had been drawn by my screams. So, in that life, the moment McVeigh released me, I, having lost all reason, charged hysterically at McVeigh’s assistant, Chloe, the instant my feet touched the ground. I slapped her across the face. Chloe’s lip bled from the impact. Yet, she didn’t defend herself, only wept and repeatedly apologized. But how could I have listened then? After all, when Chloe had locked me in the MRI, she had provocatively told me: “Mrs. Thorne, you’re so annoying, always stopping the professor from teaching me how to write my papers.” “You can just reflect on yourself in the MRI machine.” With that, she left the examination room. No matter how loudly I screamed, no matter how hysterically I struggled and cried, Chloe never re-entered the examination room. So, how could I have listened to her apologies? After slapping her, I angrily accused her. “Apologize? You dare apologize to me? You deliberately locked me in the MRI for six whole hours.” “Do you think crying and saying sorry twice can make up for it?” “Chloe, you don’t deserve to be a doctor. I’m going to complain about you to the hospital. I’ll make sure you can never practice medicine again.” After roaring in anger, I rushed out of the examination room. Even when McVeigh followed behind me, trying to calm me, begging me, even threatening me with divorce if I reported her, I didn’t listen. I just angrily kicked open the door to their complaints office. Even when the head of their administration department smoothly tried to persuade me not to pursue it, I simply threatened them, saying if they didn’t fire Chloe, I would go to the reporters. Finally, I got what I wanted: Chloe was fired from the hospital. But what happened in the end...? A painful ache spread through my chest. As I lost myself in memories, McVeigh had already unfastened the restraints on me. This time, I chose not to make a scene as I had in the previous life. As I was released from the MRI, McVeigh, just like before, nervously tried to explain to me. “Please, let me explain, Elle. Chloe was just inexperienced. I happened to call her away, and she forgot you were in the examination room. She didn’t do it on purpose.” “She’s young; give her a chance to make mistakes.” I merely glanced calmly at Chloe, who had been crying since the examination room. I picked up my coat from a nearby chair, put it on, and then smiled gently and empathetically. “Don’t worry, I understand. Interns make mistakes; it’s perfectly normal.” “I only spent six hours in the MRI. I don’t feel bad; I was just tired, so I fell asleep in there.” “Oh, and I have something to do. I’m going home now.” With that, I didn’t look at McVeigh, but turned and walked out of the examination room. After all, what was there to say? In my previous life, after Chloe was fired from the hospital, McVeigh divorced me because of my “malice.” After the divorce, he went to work at another hospital, on the condition that Chloe could practice medicine there. And I? I not only received no divorce settlement, but my initial headache, which had led me to the hospital for an examination and consequently got me trapped in the MRI by Chloe, soon turned out to be brain cancer. The moment I was diagnosed with brain cancer, I immediately went to McVeigh’s hospital and booked an appointment with him. He was a national authority on brain cancer, and we had once been deeply in love. Even if he hated me, he wouldn’t truly watch me die. But to my surprise, the instant he saw me, McVeigh tore up my medical records. “You still dare to come to me? You almost ruined Chloe’s career as a doctor.” “Do you know how hard it is to study medicine? Eight years, how many medical texts do you need to memorize, how many bitter nights does that entail?” “But you? You were only locked in the MRI for six hours, and you wouldn’t let it go, almost making Chloe lose her chance to be a doctor.” At that time, my headache was severe. I could only cry and tell McVeigh that he misunderstood me. I wasn’t there to cause trouble; I was truly sick. But hearing my words, McVeigh sneered at me. “Oh, brain cancer, huh? Good. That’s what you get for your wickedness.” Afterward, to get back at me, he even called all his former students right in front of me, one by one, forbidding any of them from treating me. At the end of my life, penniless and unable to get a specialist appointment, I could only stab myself repeatedly with a fruit knife into my emaciated body. Desperate for a full night’s sleep, I swallowed dozens of ibuprofen pills. In those final moments, the pain became unbearable. I sought McVeigh out again. But by then, he was already embracing Chloe, sweetly dating and intimately kissing her in the home I had once meticulously nurtured, using the bowls I bought and the wine glasses I carefully selected. The last scene of my life was McVeigh kneeling and proposing to Chloe. And I, my head throbbing as if being torn apart by a drill, unable to bear the pain, crashed my car into the entrance of the home I had once poured all my efforts into. So in this life, what’s six hours in an MRI? Those six hours are nothing compared to life itself. 2 After leaving the examination room, I immediately went to the garage and drove straight home. Once home, I called the hospital and rebooked a full body check-up for myself. But just as I hung up the hospital phone, McVeigh, for some reason, suddenly returned. He held a bouquet of flowers and a cake. “You must have been scared today. I bought your favorite strawberry cake.” With that, he took off his suit and unwrapped the cake box. Watching the tenderness that enveloped his eyes, my chest ached again. In my previous life, McVeigh had also bought these flowers and cake, but it was to beg me to drop the complaint against Chloe. Yet, it was worth noting that McVeigh had never sent me flowers or cake since he met Chloe. He often even forgot our wedding anniversary and my birthday. That’s why in my previous life, realizing his unusual behavior towards Chloe, I had been so relentless with her. My heart ached almost to suffocation, but in an instant, I calmly smiled. “I’m sorry, my stomach feels a bit off, so I won’t eat your strawberry cake.” “And the flowers too, I don’t like red roses, so you can give them to Chloe.” I was really telling the truth. After all, I had a big medical check-up tomorrow, and keeping a 24-hour fast was essential. Flowers? They sickened me. In my previous life, when I died, when he proposed to Chloe, he had filled the villa we lived in with these very red roses. But McVeigh, frowning slightly, walked towards me. “You’re just deliberately trying to pick a fight, aren’t you?” “I have so many surgeries all day long; I’m half-dead from exhaustion, and I still have to come home to coax you. Can you please stop overreacting and dwelling on one small thing?” “I already explained to you at the hospital, Chloe is an intern; it’s normal for her to make mistakes.” “But you, you just walked out of the hospital with a sour face.” “Fine, I tolerated that, specifically bought flowers and a cake to come home and coax you, and you’re still giving me the cold shoulder.” My heart felt so weary. But I calmly met McVeigh’s gaze. “Believe it or not, I’m really not angry, nor am I being unreasonable, and I’m not giving you the cold shoulder either.” “I was in the MRI for six hours, and I’m genuinely exhausted, so all I want to do now is sleep.” With that, I didn’t look at McVeigh again, turned and went back to my room, locking the door securely. When I came out again, McVeigh was gone. Instead, my WeChat was constantly being bombarded with messages. This was Chloe’s habit. Whenever she was with McVeigh, she would continuously send me photos of her life with him. She treated me like a file transfer assistant. In my previous life, this was why I had thrown such a huge tantrum out of jealousy when Chloe trapped me in the MRI. But now, looking at the photos Chloe sent, I didn’t curse her as I usually would. Instead, I very sincerely commented: “Your phone angle is wrong. McVeigh’s side profile looks better. Remember to hold your phone higher next time when you take pictures.” “Also, look at the negative space in your photos. It should be less, so you and McVeigh can look more intimate.” As soon as I sent the WeChat message, Chloe replied. “You’ve been hacked.” I sent her a smiling emoji. “No, just wanted to let you know, McVeigh is yours.” With that, I blocked Chloe’s WeChat. This current triangular ownership situation is perfectly fine. I want the status of Mrs. Thorne, so McVeigh will treat my illness. McVeigh’s body and presence? If Chloe wants them, I’ll give them to her. Not like my foolish self in the last life, who only wanted McVeigh’s love. 3 After dealing with Chloe, I lay on the bed, calmly closing my eyes. But that night, even though I had been reincarnated, I still didn't sleep well. Just like when I had cancer in my previous life, I kept dreaming of my past with McVeigh. When he was a child, McVeigh was often beaten by his special education teacher mother because he was introverted and didn't like to talk. Often at midnight, when I had already slept, he would still be wearing thick glasses, doing test papers, while his mother stood by with a stick. Every time he made a mistake, his mother would raise the stick and hit him hard on the back. Living across from him, every time I saw him being beaten by his mother in the middle of the night, I felt so sorry for him. So whenever I got candy, I would secretly slip it into his backpack on the way to school, then smile and say to him, "McVeigh, when your back hurts, eat one." The first time I gave McVeigh candy, his face flushed red. It wasn't until I had run a hundred meters away that he stammered in a low voice, "I... I don't eat candy." And I just waved back with a smile. "McVeigh, you should talk more, your voice is really nice." After that, it seemed to become a habit. McVeigh, who had always been a loner, got used to waiting for me, and used to me slipping candy into his backpack. And so, in that small alley outside our neighborhood, McVeigh and I walked through countless springs, countless summers, countless winters together. Until he was 18, McVeigh, who got into a top university as the county's top scholar, nervously handed me a school number, pushing up his glasses. "I looked up this school. It's very close to mine, only a ten-minute walk. Your scores aren't enough for a bachelor's degree, but you could do an associate's degree." I looked at his awkwardness. I didn't tell him that my parents had an emergency meeting the night before, after getting my college entrance exam scores, saying that even if I had to go to a third-tier university, I had to get a bachelor's degree; our family could afford it. After that, I secretly changed my college application without telling my parents. Even though the ultimate price was a beating from both my mother and father, I never regretted it. Later, McVeigh and I went to university in the same city. His life, after leaving his mother, seemed to take a miraculous turn. He removed his thick glasses and put on contacts, changed his buzz cut to curly hair, and even his fashion began to change. He shed his plaid shirts for white ones. His perpetually black sneakers became white athletic shoes. I didn't know why McVeigh had undergone such a transformation until I once again shrieked with excitement because my favorite celebrity was coming to my university city for a concert. McVeigh, with reddened eyes, grabbed me. "I've become the person you like for you, but you still can't like me?" The word "like" hammered into my chest like a heavy blow. Even though we attended different schools, I had heard of McVeigh's legend: a medical genius, who at only freshman year had apprenticed under a nationally renowned neurosurgeon. By his sophomore year, he was interning at a hospital through his mentor's recommendation. And because of his sudden change in appearance, a group of women even created a forum dedicated to documenting McVeigh's transformation. I had always thought there was an ocean between us, and we would forever remain just friends, but then McVeigh told me he liked me. Being the thick-skinned person I was, I didn’t think twice before rising on my tiptoes and impulsively kissing McVeigh. After that, we started dating. My main focus became feeding McVeigh all sorts of bubble tea, sweets, and desserts that I liked. I had no life plan; every day was either about figuring out what McVeigh would eat, drink, or what we would do for fun. McVeigh's life, meanwhile, continued its miraculous trajectory, publishing multiple papers during his graduate studies. Immediately after earning his doctorate, he was recruited by a prestigious top-tier hospital. In stark contrast to McVeigh’s life, my own seemed to be cursed afterward. I failed to transfer from my associate’s to a bachelor’s degree. After graduating from college, I lived solely on McVeigh’s allowance. Even my parents, who had adored me since childhood, tragically died in a car accident on their way to visit me in the hospital for pneumonia two years after I graduated. As an orphan, I cried until my tears soaked their bodies. McVeigh, kneeling beside my parents’ corpses, swore to me in his mother’s gloomy, hateful gaze that he would take care of me for the rest of his life. McVeigh and I got married. I had multiple miscarriages; each pregnancy ended in loss. Until later, Chloe became McVeigh’s assistant. He started to disdain me, calling me shallow. All I did all day was ask him what to eat and drink. Unlike Chloe, who could talk about medicine and surgeries with him. My eyes welled up with tears. When I opened them, I realized the day had already broken. And just like in my previous life, my pillow was soaked with tears. Just then, McVeigh’s WeChat message came through. “Going to the nursing home to see my mom this afternoon.” 4 Seeing McVeigh’s message, I calmly replied, “I’m busy today, no time.” McVeigh immediately called. “What are you doing today?” “Elle, how many times do I have to tell you, Chloe and I have nothing going on. Why do you insist on clinging to a small issue and not letting it go?” Hearing McVeigh mention Chloe again, a sneer touched my lips. McVeigh, ever since becoming a doctor, had grown accustomed to speaking concisely. This was the first time he clung to an issue so stubbornly. So, was he trying to convince himself that he hadn't developed feelings for Chloe, or was he trying to lessen his guilt towards me? My chest ached with a tremor, but I calmly explained to McVeigh again, “McVeigh, I’m not feeling well. I need to go to the hospital for a check-up. I truly can’t accompany you to see your mom today.” “Also, your mom has a heart condition, and she’s always disliked me. Isn’t it better if I don’t go to the nursing home and upset her? And doesn’t your mom really like Chloe? She says only someone of Chloe’s status is worthy of you. Just let her go with you.” I truly meant well in advising McVeigh, but to my surprise, McVeigh lost his temper again. “Elle, just keep acting out.” With that, he hung up. Listening to his abrupt hang-up, a sneer once again crossed my lips. See? This is the difference between love and not love. After all, the McVeigh who once loved me would frantically ask if he’d done something wrong to upset me whenever I showed even a hint of a wronged expression. But now, the McVeigh who no longer loves me still thinks I’m being unreasonable, even when I genuinely offer advice.
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