Three years ago, I lost my leg saving Reginald Gilbert.

He knelt in front of me, eyes rimmed red, and swore:

"Priscilla, I'll marry you. For the rest of my life, let me be your legs."

The first year, he cared for me down to the smallest detail. He cleaned up after me, bathed me, never flinched.

The second year, he still told everyone he met that I was his wife, that my leg would heal in time.

But by the third year, taking care of me had become a weight he couldn't carry.

He worked five jobs a day, and it still wasn't enough to cover my staggering medical bills.

The exhaustion of his body and the pressure on his mind had pushed him nearly to the breaking point.

I accidentally knocked the mug off the counter and shattered it.

Reginald saw it happen and screamed at me, coming apart at the seams.

"Didn't I tell you not to touch it? Why can't you ever listen?"

"So you saved my life, fine. How much longer are you going to drag me down? I'll give you this life of mine back, will that do?"

"I'm sorry."

I said it over and over. "I never wanted to be a burden to you either."

After he left, I turned on the gas myself. And yet there was a smile on my face.

Reginald, just wait until tomorrow is over.

Then you can be rid of your dead weight and marry the girl you love.

——

I closed my eyes and waited quietly for death to come.

The smell of gas crept into my nose.

The old memories began to flicker past behind my eyes, one after another.

I couldn't deny it. Reginald had once been so good to me. So good.

After my accident, he cried until his eyes were red, went from temple to temple bowing on his knees, all to pray that I'd be all right.

When the doctor said my leg was gone, he dropped to his knees in front of me.

Without a moment's hesitation, he promised to marry me, to take care of me for the rest of my life.

And he did. For three whole years, he cleaned up after me, bathed me.

Even when everyone else called me a cripple, called me useless.

His eyes never lost their tenderness, their pity. He never once lost his temper.

Even when my own parents learned my leg was gone, that my life was ruined.

They just shook their heads and abandoned me.

But he didn't.

Three whole years had passed.

I knew those enormous medical bills, that painstaking care day after day, had worn Reginald down to skin and bone.

His face, too, had grown gaunt before my eyes.

I couldn't even say when it started.

By then Reginald looked at me with nothing but a numb, blank face.

Every day he brought me my meals mechanically, like a robot completing an assigned task.

Only when he saw that girl he'd recently met did a rare trace of a smile finally cross his face.

On his birthday, he set the mug the girl had given him carefully on the counter.

And told me not to touch it.

I only wanted to wipe the dust off it, but I fumbled and let it shatter.

I knew that this time, he had truly broken.

I didn't blame him.

The smell of gas grew thicker and thicker.

My head began to swim, everything going hazy.

Just when I thought death had come to carry me away.

Reginald kicked the door open in a fury and rushed in, his eyes red as he roared at me.

"Priscilla Fox, how much longer are you going to keep this up?"

"I step out for one moment and you cause a disaster like this!"

"Are you only going to be satisfied once you've worked me to death?"

He covered his nose and mouth, threw open the window, then dragged me out of the room with everything he had.

I felt a stab of guilt and didn't dare lift my head to look at him.

Not only had I failed to die, I'd been caught.

And once again I'd become his problem.

The instant he ran out of the room carrying me on his back, Reginald went rigid all over, and I followed his gaze.

Downstairs stood a girl in a white sundress.

She looked up at Reginald with reddened eyes, her face full of grief.

"So I guess we're not watching the World Cup after all, are we? Then I'll go first."

The girl ran off, eyes brimming, and for a moment Reginald tensed as if to call her back, but in the end no sound left his throat.

"Wait here for me a second."

After two minutes of hesitation, Reginald set me down at the door and chased after her.

He ran so fast he never noticed his phone slip out of his pocket.

I wheeled my chair over, picked it up, and meant to bring it to him.

Only to catch Reginald and the girl arguing at the corner.

"Didn't we agree? That once you got back, you'd tell her the truth, and end things clean?"

"You have your own life. You shouldn't be dragged down by her forever."

Reginald fell silent.

The girl bit her lip and watched him, tears spilling over.

"Say something. Didn't you tell me you had feelings for me?"

"You said Priscilla Fox was an independent person, that you were willing to take this step for me."

"If you don't say it now, are you really going to let her tie you down for the rest of your life?"

"Reginald, I know how exhausted you are right now. You're on the edge of falling apart."

"Better a short pain than a long one…"

But he kept his head down, silent for a long while, before choking out a single line.

"I'm sorry. I can't abandon Priscilla."

"The way she is now, she can't survive without me. May McClain, it's me who isn't good enough for you."

Fat tears rolled down the girl's face. Her heart was clearly shattered, and she ran off in disappointment.

Reginald watched her figure disappear, and still he didn't leave.

He slammed a fist against the wall, a smothered sob catching in his throat.

What a fool.

You're in that much pain, so why won't you just throw me away?

Back then, when I saved you, all I ever wanted was for you to be okay.

That night, Reginald wheeled my chair back to the little courtyard in his hometown.

"Let's stay here a couple of days. There's no gas line in the old house."

Reginald was afraid I'd try again, that I'd turn on the gas and end my life.

For dinner he cooked a couple of extra dishes. I barely touched a bite, and he hardly picked up his chopsticks either.

He just kept pouring glass after glass of liquor down his throat.

Ever since I'd turned on the gas and failed to die,

he hadn't said a single word of blame to me.

But the pain and the misery seeped out of him, from the very marrow of his bones.

And it left a bitter ache in me too.

Watching him suffer, I suddenly spoke.

"Reginald."

"Don't worry about me anymore. Just leave me behind."

Reginald froze for a moment.

The next second he shot me a sour look and glared as he said,

"I'd love to leave you behind."

"But every time I think about how you lost your leg because of me, I can't bring myself to do it."

He raked his fingers through his hair in agitation.

"So many times, I've wondered—why wasn't I the one hit in that accident?"

"If I were the one who'd lost a leg,"

"maybe I wouldn't be this miserable now."

I seemed to turn that last sentence over and over, sinking into thought.

Miserable?

That first year, whenever Reginald looked at my severed leg, his eyes would redden every time.

"Priscilla, I've wronged you. I owe you."

"If you hadn't rushed in to save me,"

"the one lying here today, without both legs, would've been me."

"I can never repay what I owe you, not in this lifetime. I'll take care of you forever."

But the moment he said those words, I turned him down.

"Carrying another person's whole life on your shoulders. It wears you down."

"Reginald, I saved you because I chose to. I never wanted to guilt you into it, never wanted to hold some debt over you."

"How about this. Just put me in a nursing home."

But Reginald refused, flat out.

"Don't be so cruel to me, Priscilla."

"Let me stay by your side and take care of you."

"This isn't suffering for me. It's redemption."

But now, that redemption had turned into suffering, completely and utterly.

And this relationship should have ended too.

I don't know how many bottles Reginald put away that night.

I don't know how many times I said I was sorry.

Until he was so drunk he could barely stay conscious.

He gripped my hand and asked.

"If you could do it all over again, would you still save me in that accident?"

I nodded without hesitation.

Of course I would.

Even if it left me crippled. Even if it cost me my life.

I would never let anything happen to Reginald.

But he pushed me away, a bitter little laugh on his lips.

"If I could do it over again."

"I'd shove you away as hard as I could."

"Priscilla Fox, I don't want to owe you anymore."

Looking into his eyes, I froze for a moment.

Then something in my nose stung sharp.

So it turned out they were right after all.

A great kindness becomes a great grudge.

I never once meant to trap Reginald with the debt of what I'd done.

I only, only wanted to keep him from getting hurt.

And yet, in the end, he was the one I'd trapped.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry!"

If that was how it was.

Then in the next life, I'll keep my distance. I won't save you again.

Reginald was dead to the world.

But the tears kept sliding from the corners of his eyes, on and on.

His heart was full of bitterness.

If I go two days without changing the bedding, sores break out on my skin.

My stomach is weak too. Prepackaged meals always upset it, always leave me doubled over with cramps.

So Reginald cooked every single meal for me with his own hands.

And then there were the medical bills, the enormous ones.

After I lost my leg, my parents cut all ties with me and moved abroad.

The last thing they said to me was this.

"As far as we're concerned, we never had this daughter."

So in this whole country, all I had left was Reginald.

He couldn't stand to watch me rot in the mud like some useless thing.

So he worked himself half to death, earning money, then came home and cared for me day and night.

No matter how exhausted other people get, at least they have room to rest.

But he'd been chained to me, this dead weight, for three years.

Never once able to catch his breath.

"Don't cry, Reginald. It's all my fault..."

I turned my wheelchair gently and stopped beside him.

Carefully I reached out to wipe away his tears.

But he caught my hand on instinct.

"May, don't go..."

"Don't leave me."

I went still, my expression frozen along with me.

May. May McClain.

That was the name of the girl from earlier that day.

I'd heard they met while he was working one of his side jobs.

Reginald worked himself to the bone at those jobs to earn my medical bills.

All so he could fit me with the most expensive prosthetic leg.

And him, working that hard, shining bright in the middle of the crowd, that was exactly what caught May's eye.

May was a college student who'd come back from studying abroad.

They were kindred spirits who fell for each other at first sight.

They'd often have lunch together, take walks together.

They'd even talk about their dreams for the future, their philosophies of life.

I knew that, to pursue Reginald.

May had given up the whole prestige of being a returnee from studying abroad.

She'd actually gone and taken a part-time job at a coffee shop right downstairs from our place.