My husband's mistress secretly donated a vial of bone marrow to me, keeping it hidden from everyone. I survived, but she developed a severe infection due to a medical error and became critically weak. My husband, consumed by hatred for me, brought her into our marital home, lavishing her with affection right in front of me. She shamelessly took advantage of the fact that she saved my life, humiliating me without a second thought. Living in this three-way situation was impossible. Whenever I voiced my dissatisfaction, my husband would tell me it was something I owed her. In the end, the stress took its toll on my body, and I died, consumed by bitterness. When I opened my eyes again, I was back before the bone marrow transplant. This time, I made up my mind to forgo the surgery and choose to stop treatment. To my surprise, when I actually died, my husband lost his sanity.