My Husband Crippled Me for Life, Yet He Says I Have His Complete Love

During an aerial rotation in our Latin Dance routine, my husband and dance partner failed to catch me.

I fell to the floor, resulting in high-level paraplegia.

Zane Rhodes frantically slapped himself across the face, claiming it was an accident and swearing he would take care of me for the rest of my life.

He tearfully complained about financial strain and stopped paying my medical bills, only to turn around and buy a custom-designed dance costume for his first love.

I missed the optimal window for treatment and would be bedridden for life.

As I grieved for my broken body, I happened to overhear him on the phone with his friend:

"Isn't what you did to Quinn Vance too cruel? You intentionally didn't catch her just so Celia Linden could win the championship."

Zane Rhodes was silent for a long moment. "I've wronged Quinn, but I'll take full responsibility for her! Even though she's lost her legs and her dreams, she has all of my love!"

Staring at the utter blackness my life had become, I slit my wrists.

As blood spattered, a red-eyed Zane Rhodes told me he regretted it.

...

"Why are your eyes so red? Are your legs hurting again?"

Zane Rhodes was as gentle as ever after hanging up the phone.

'For a moment, I couldn't tell which was the real him.'

"The Dance Troupe just called. They need me to head over."

'The Dance Troupe? Wasn't he just on the phone with his friend, mocking me?'

I stared at him, searching his eyes for any sign of a lie.

He averted his gaze unnaturally.

It was his subconscious tell when he was lying.

"The Dance Troupe said they can lend me some money, so I'll be able to pay for your treatment."

I laughed sarcastically.

A few days ago, a nurse came to chase up the payment, and that's when I learned my treatment fees were long overdue.

That was why I couldn't start my rehabilitation.

When I asked Zane Rhodes about it, he put on a troubled expression. "Treating your legs has wiped out my savings, but don't worry. I'll take out a loan if I have to and get the fees paid."

I kept waiting.

Until yesterday, when the doctor delivered the diagnosis: I had missed the optimal window for treatment and would likely never stand again.

Only then did I understand that this life was over, that I would forever be a bird in a cage.

"Fine, you can go."

I lay back down, not clinging to him and begging him to stay like I usually did.

Only after the door to my hospital room closed did I bury my head and cry.

I cried myself into a daze and eventually fell asleep, only to be woken by the news on TV.

It was Celia Linden.

She had won another Latin Dance competition and was surrounded by reporters for an interview.

I saw a reflection of my old self from before the paralysis—I used to win every major competition, mobbed by countless reporters offering their congratulations.

"Celia Linden, now that you've won the championship, who do you want to thank the most?"

"My first love. I want to thank him for always being by my side, encouraging me. He even gifted me my dance costume!"

"That looks like a special custom-designed dance costume!!"

"Whether it's custom-designed or not isn't important! But he's just so good to me! Oh! Stop being so nosy!"

Celia Linden's pretty face flushed slightly as she glanced happily to the side.

In the corner of the shot, there was a flash of a light blue sleeve.

That was the shirt Zane Rhodes was wearing today.

I nervously squeezed my hands.

'What if it was just a coincidence, the same shirt?'

I dialed the number for The Dance Troupe's Director.

My heart pounded in time with the ringing of the phone.