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On the day I moved into the dorms, my roommate Harper White gave me a crystal bracelet as a gift. But I immediately put that bracelet on her mother Grace White’s wrist instead.
In my previous life, Harper wanted to become the campus social queen and was determined to date 100 boyfriends during college.
But no matter how chaotic her private life was, she never got
pregnant.
Meanwhile, I, who remained single the whole time, kept getting pregnant over and over again, only to miscarry repeatedly.
I was mocked by the entire school – students and faculty alike – who said I was promiscuous, shameless, and that my private life was a mess because I couldn’t say no to any man.
It wasn’t until my 66th miscarriage that I died on the operating table from massive bleeding,
Only after death did I learn that the crystal bracelet Harper had given me had bound us to a “uterus exchange system.”
When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back on move–in day.
Harper smiled as she pressed an exquisite crystal bracelet into
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my hand, saying enthusiastically, “We’re going to be roommates from now on. I’m giving you this crystal bracelet as a gift – wearing it will bring you good luck.”
Looking at the familiar crystal bracelet before me, I realized I had been reborn.
I said to Harper, “Thank you for the thought, but this crystal bracelet looks expensive. We just met, and it’s not appropriate for you to give such an expensive gift. I can’t accept it.”
With that, I pushed the crystal bracelet back toward her.
Harper and Grace were dressed very plainly and didn’t look wealthy. Plus, there were four people in the dorm room, but Harper was only giving me a gift – something was obviously
wrong.
—
Just then, Carter Green pressed down on my hand and said, “Since Harper is giving it to you, just accept it. You’re going to be living together for four years – don’t you have any manners?”
Harper chimed in, “Yeah, if you don’t accept it, you’re not giving me any respect.”
I smiled. Carter was a friend I’d grown up with, and I had applied to this school because of him.
But what I hadn’t expected was that before school even started, he was already together with Harper in the freshman group
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chat, and he specifically told me to keep my distance from him.
I grabbed Carter’s hand and said, “I think this bracelet would look good on you too. Why don’t you wear it?”
Carter was so scared he immediately shook off my hand and backed away several steps. “Harper gave this to you – how can you put it on me? That would be wasting her thoughtfulness!”
—
Sure enough, Carter knew about the bracelet’s special effects.
I then put the bracelet away and stopped talking.
While Harper and Carter had their backs turned, I suddenly put the bracelet on Grace’s wrist.
Seeing the crystal bracelet emit a strange glow, I knew the “uterus exchange system” had successfully bound.
Grace touched the bracelet and smiled with satisfaction, saying, “You’re very sensible. My daughter insisted on giving you such an expensive bracelet, but I couldn’t bear to part with it.”
Then she said to me, “You’re so young yet you dress so flashily – I suppose you’re planning to seduce men? Don’t lead my daughter astray in the future. I’ll just take this bracelet back, and don’t tell Harper about it so she won’t throw a tantrum with me.”
I smiled and said, “Grace, don’t worry, I definitely won’t tell
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her.”
In my previous life, after I put on this crystal bracelet, I was forced to bind with Harper’s “uterus exchange system.”
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She was determined to become the school’s social queen and date a full 100 boyfriends.
Harper often didn’t return to the dorm at night, going on dates with different boyfriends to various places.
But no matter how chaotic Harper’s private life was, she never got pregnant. Instead, I, who remained single, kept getting mysteriously pregnant and then miscarrying.
Before long, news of my frequent pregnancies and miscarriages spread throughout the entire school. Almost everyone who saw me would call me “shameless.”
Even my classmates openly mocked me, calling me “a woman who can’t say no to any man.”
No matter how I tried to explain, no one believed me. Even the doctors at the hospital would shake their heads when they saw
- me.
One said, “Young girls these days don’t take care of their bodies at all. You don’t even use protection. Are you treating your body like a joke?”
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Finally, during my 66th miscarriage, I hemorrhaged and died on the operating table.
This time, I won’t let Harper’s scheme succeed. Let Grace bear the consequences of her daughter’s mistakes.
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