Redemption in the Name of Love

When she woke again, it was in a snow-white bed. A hospital? Eleanor was dazed for a moment before a sharp pain in her leg made her fall back onto the bed. No, her heart condition shouldn't cause a leg injury. She clearly remembered her name was Eleanor, the eldest daughter of the Bai family. Yet, fragments of unfamiliar memories flooded her mind—memories belonging to the original owner of this body, another Eleanor. Her marriage to Sampson had begun with coercion; she used her family's influence to force him to marry her, and out of jealousy, she drove away the girl he was fond of. Ultimately, during the rainy night car accident on the way to pick up his mother, her mother-in-law had died, and she herself was severely injured and hospitalized. "So, is this my retribution?" Eleanor whispered to herself, a bitter taste rising in her mouth. She finally understood this wasn't a case of transmigration or soul possession, but the awakening of her own memories—in the moment of the crash, she had suddenly seen clearly how absurd and ridiculous her past self had been. That willful, spoiled Eleanor who would stop at nothing for love had never truly understood what love was. The hospital room door was kicked open violently. A tall man rushed in. Sampson's eyes burned with fury, his handsome face twisted with grief and rage. "Eleanor, I'll kill you!" He clamped his hands around her neck, pinning her to the hospital bed. The sensation of suffocation washed over her, yet Eleanor*** didn't struggle. Gazing at the man she had hurt so deeply, silent tears traced paths down her cheeks. "I'm sorry..." She forced the words out with all her strength. "I know... it's too late for that." Sampson's hands loosened slightly, a flicker of surprise in his eyes—this wasn't the reaction he had expected. The Eleanor he knew would only ever make excuses for herself. "I know you hate me, and I hate myself too." Eleanor's voice was choked but clear. "I'm not asking for your forgiveness, but please let me atone. Not to win you back, but because... this is what I owe you, what I owe your mother." She took a deep breath, meeting his icy gaze directly. "From today on, I will prove my remorse through my actions. Not to make you love me again, but because—this is the first time I, Eleanor, have truly wanted to take responsibility for my mistakes." Sampson released her, taking a step back, his eyes complex as he scrutinized her. This woman's gaze was different; it was no longer the stubborn madness of before, but a clarity and resolve he had never seen in her. "What new trick are you trying to pull?" he asked coldly, though the killing intent from earlier had lessened. Eleanor shook her head gently, tears continuing to fall uncontrollably. "I won't force you to do anything ever again. Once my leg is better, I will move out. But before that, please let me do one last thing for your mother—let me personally arrange her funeral, see her on her final journey." In this moment, she was no longer the love-crazed Eleanor, nor the shallow heiress who shirked responsibility. She chose to face the tragedy she had caused, to spend the rest of her life trying to make amends for this irreparable mistake. And this path of 'winning over' Sampson was no longer about gaining his love, but about teaching herself how to love—truly, selflessly, with respect and understanding. Sampson's face was extremely dark. He reached out and shoved her away harshly. Eleanor, caught off guard by his strength, stumbled and crashed into the metal utility cart beside the bed. Items from the cart clattered down onto her with a deafening noise. She sucked in a sharp, pained breath as acute pain shot through the wounds on her leg and the part of her waist she had hit. Gritting her teeth against the pain, Eleanor spoke haltingly but with unusual determination: "Of course I know, you're my brother." Sampson suddenly shook off Eleanor's hand and shouted towards the door, "Doctor!" The timid doctors and nurses outside finally dared to enter, beginning their examinations and re-bandaging. "...In other words, the young lady likely suffered a severe impact to the head, resulting in a hematoma that puts pressure on the cranial nerves, and then..." The doctor spouted a stream of medical jargon. Sampson interrupted impatiently, "Get to the point." The doctor immediately simplified, "She has amnesia. Furthermore, due to the memory impairment, her mental capacity has regressed. The specific extent of the regression requires further examination." "Amnesia?" Sampson turned back, his gaze cold as he assessed Eleanor. Eleanor leaned against the bed, her fingers clutching tightly to the hem of Sampson's shirt, weeping pitifully. She looked up, pouting, tears glistening in the corners of her eyes, her voice soft and pleading, "Brother, don't you want me anymore?" Sampson suddenly felt a headache coming on. Was this woman still the arrogant, domineering Eleanor? She seemed more like a five or six-year-old child. "Let go," Sampson said, his face stern. This woman had killed his mother. Eleanor not only didn't let go, but cried even harder, tears and runny nose streaming down her face. Thinking of her current predicament, sorrow welled up from within. She had to obtain Sampson's forgiveness; otherwise, she would forever carry the guilt of causing her mother-in-law's death, and Sampson would forever live in hatred. This crying fit was truly earth-shattering, enough to break one's heart. Eleanor clung desperately to Sampson, "If brother doesn't want me, I don't want to live either." Sampson's face turned from black to white, then to green, finally settling on a flush of anger. "Get lost. I want a divorce." The doctor chose that moment to add, "Mr.Sampson, given her current mental state, you are required to assume guardianship responsibilities. A divorce is currently not possible." This world indeed had regulations against casually abandoning a spouse with a mental illness.