She Killed Me to Save Her Lover

In the dead of night, my legs throbbed with unbearable pain, making sleep impossible. I reached for my painkillers in the bedside drawer, only to find the bottle empty.

Frustrated, I struggled to sit up, my useless legs dragging across the sheets. Gripping the armrest of my wheelchair, I heaved myself over. The landing was rough - my ankle caught the edge, tearing off a chunk of skin.

Looking at my bleeding ankle, I let out a bitter laugh. What cruel irony that legs that can't walk can still feel such pain.

A dull ache spread through my body, making me wince. Since the accident, painkillers had become my constant companion. Sometimes I wondered if complete numbness would be a blessing - for both me and Clara.

I wheeled myself out carefully, trying not to disturb Clara's studying. Her medical boards were tomorrow, and she'd promised we'd marry once she passed.

I'd watched her work tirelessly all year, and I truly believed she would succeed. I also wanted to believe that life wouldn't be so cruel to me again.

After taking the painkillers, I still couldn’t fall asleep. So, I slowly wheeled myself to the doorway of Clara’s room. The soft glow of her lamp filtered through the crack under the door, and I could hear the faint sound of her typing. I leaned back in my wheelchair, a proud smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. Since I couldn’t sleep anyway, I might as well quietly keep her company.

"I'm so exhausted..." I heard her whisper, making me sit up straighter. I backed away quietly, not wanting to startle her.

"I'll ace tomorrow's exam. Just wait for my good news," she said.

My smile at her words died instantly as she continued.

"I miss you so much. God, I can't even look at Leon Marshall anymore. If it weren't for you, I couldn't stand being near him for a single day."

"It makes my skin crawl when he touches me. Even the way he looks at me is revolting. Who does he think he is? He's crippled, yet he still has the nerve to think about... those things."

I couldn't bear another word. In my hurry to escape, I crashed into the coffee table in the darkness. The wheelchair tipped, leaving me sprawled on the floor.

Clara's door burst open, flooding the room with light and exposing my humiliation. Her face twisted with disgust before she reluctantly approached.

"Leon, I have my exam tomorrow. Can't you keep quiet for one night?"

She roughly yanked the wheelchair upright and dragged me across the floor, shoving me back into it like a piece of trash. I kept my head down, fists clenched, as she immediately pulled out a tissue and scrubbed her hands raw, as if my touch had contaminated her.

Looking up at her, I already knew the answer, but I had to ask: "If you pass tomorrow, will you still keep your promise to marry me?"