Without my legs, I’ll die 2

Without my legs, I’ll die 2

 

Priscilla curled up pitifully in his arms.

 

“Joel, are my legs broken? Will I still be able to act?”

 

A mere frown from her was enough to make Joel’s heart melt with concern.

 

He comforted her over and over again. “As long as I’m here, your legs will be fine. Be good and get some rest. It won’t hurt anymore when you wake up.”

 

Watching them embrace, I felt my heart twist in agony.

 

In seven years, he had never spoken to me with such tenderness.

 

I had always told myself he was just naturally reserved. That was until last year, when Priscilla returned to the country. He’d gotten drunk and let the truth slip.

 

“Aurora, I should never have married you. Priscilla is the only one I’ve ever cared about. I had no choice back then, but I regret it now.”

 

Seven years ago, Darwin Xander was imprisoned, and Sofia Gill was gravely ill.

 

Desperate to save his parents and out of options, Joel came to me.

 

The day before the graduation ball, he cornered me outside the dormitory, looking utterly defeated as he held me tight.

 

“Aurora, you like me, don’t you?”

 

My crush on him was no secret. But hearing him say it out loud left me flustered and speechless.

 

Joel clung to me, his voice choked with emotion. “I’ll marry you, so lend me 30 thousand dollars, okay?”

 

To my family, 30 thousand dollars wasn’t a big deal.

 

Seeing the redness in his eyes, I trembled as I nodded.

 

I truly loved Joel. I was willing to give anything to be with him.

 

He kept his word. When Sofia’s surgery was a success, he married me.

 

Perhaps he never loved me.

 

On our wedding night, he lay with his back to me, clutching Priscilla’s photo, unable to sleep.

 

I believed love could grow over time. But I never imagined he would only resent me more.

 

A blind man who regained his sight would always discard his cane first.

 

Once Joel had secured his place in this city, I became nothing more than a shameful reminder of his past.

 

While he climbed the ranks, I remained the festering wound beneath his polished facade, a constant reminder of the desperate man he once was.

 

He hated me—just as much as he hated the powerless version of himself who had to sell his dignity for money.

 

Now that I was dead, he could finally breathe easy.

Without my legs, I’ll die

Without my legs, I’ll die

Status: Ongoing

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