During an ambush, I risked everything to save Matthew, but in doing so, I lost the ability to stand—my legs were permanently damaged.

Matthew was devastated. Holding me close, he swore he would love me forever and never betray me.

Overwhelmed with emotion, I agreed to marry him.

In secret, I sought medical treatment, and after a long, gruelling journey, the day finally came when the doctor told me I could walk again. Overjoyed, I rushed home, eager to share the incredible news with him.

However, the moment I pushed open the door, my world collapsed. Matthew was fooling around with his female assistant—right there in our home.

On our bed.

Wrapped in each other's arms, they kissed passionately, completely lost in the moment.

As things heated up, the woman gazed at him and murmured, "Matt, why don't you just leave that cripple? She can't satisfy you at all."

"Don't you love the thrill of sneaking around? It wouldn't be nearly as exciting if I left her."

A wave of icy rage surged through me.

So that was what our marriage meant to him—nothing more than a twisted game, a joke between him and his mistress.

Drained and heartbroken, I turned and walked out. That night, I booked a flight back to my hometown.

I was done with this city.

Let Matthew live with his regret.

After I nailed down the flight details, I figured that would be the end of their ridiculous charade.

However, as I pushed myself up from my wheelchair and made my way to the foot of the stairs, I found that Matthew Larson had sneaked off to the study upstairs with his assistant.

The place was trashed, and the two of them were making a scene that was way out of line.

Matthew gave his assistant that cheeky look while she egged him on.

"Matt, why so uptight? Is it because Wendy's back? She's got no way of getting up here with her condition, so how's she gonna know what we're up to?" she murmured into Matthew's ear, dripping with scorn for me.

Matthew gave her a pinch and hissed, "Shh... She might hear us."

"That's what makes it so exciting!

"We left the toys downstairs, though." She peeked over the banister at me below, then shot Matthew a suggestive look. "Should we get her to bring them up?"

Matthew wavered for a second before caving in. "Wendy, I need a favor. Can you bring that box on the coffee table to the stairs? It's for work."

His words hit me like a ton of bricks, but I kept my cool, barely. I forced a smile and eyed the box on the table.

Work stuff? Yeah, right. It was obviously a disgusting toy. Matthew wanted me to fetch their plaything.

I played the part of the helpless cripple, wheeled over to grab the box, and made my way back to the stairs.

"Working late?" I called out to Matthew as he descended the stairs, trying to sound casual even though my voice was shaking.

"I have no choice. Work is crazy busy, but it's all for our future, so it's worth it," he said with a show of passion, planting a fake kiss on my forehead.

He snatched the box from my hands and bolted upstairs to play with his assistant.

"Get some sleep early! I'll crash in the study tonight so that I won't bug you."

Matthew dashed off to the study.

Once he was gone, I could no longer hold my feelings back.

Even though I was ready to walk away, the thought of forgetting him still hurt like a thousand tiny cuts.

Matthew had sworn he would love only me and never betray me.

Yet, he had broken that promise.

I grabbed my phone and called my mentor.

"Professor, I'm ready to come back to research."

"Really? You know, joining the research team means signing a non-disclosure agreement. You won't get to see the outside world much. Didn't you and Matthew... Did you guys split up?"

I said, "We're about to."

My professor paused, taking it in.

"Okay, come here in seven days."

I had once hesitated to leave Matthew, giving up a bright future.

'Now, he's the reason I'm going back to my research roots,' I thought.

I glanced at the study door, shut tight, with the sound of Matthew's and his assistant's breathless whispers slipping through.

"I've wasted years, knowing I was meant for research, but I gave it all up for a man. Not anymore. I'm going back to dive into my studies."

"That's my star student," my professor said, proud. "You didn't let me down. We'll be at the airport in seven days to welcome you."

"Thanks, Professor. I'll be there."

After a long while, Matthew came out of the study, his white shirt untucked, his hair a mess, and his buttons undone.

It was obvious that something wild had just gone down upstairs, and I could not believe I had not picked up on it until now.

The thought of him messing around with some other girl and then trying to be sweet with me made my stomach flip—I started gagging.

Matthew rushed over, his face etched with concern.

The closer he got, the stronger the other woman's perfume that had clung to him permeated the air.

I shoved him back and raced my wheelchair to the bathroom.

Hunched over the toilet, I could not stop heaving. When the waves of nausea eased a bit, I caught sight of a pregnancy test gleaming on the shelf by the sink.

My hands shook as I stood and grabbed it.

Two red lines stared back at me.

I looked at it for what felt like forever; my heart twisted in pain and confusion.

Since my legs stopped working, Matthew and I had not been close for months.

Then, he had not only cheated with his assistant but knocked her up, too.

Matthew came after me, his voice laced with panic. "Wendy, what's wrong? Do you feel sick?"

He clung to me tightly, his face all worried, treating me like I was something precious.

However, his concern seemed like a cruel joke after what he had just done with someone else.

Matthew was such a phony.

I pushed him off and put some space between us.

"Maybe I'm just not feeling great. I've been a bit queasy for days, but it's no big deal," I said, lying.

I did not want to deal with him more than I had to. I tucked the pregnancy test away and spun my wheelchair, ready to bolt, but Matthew looked frantic.

He was such a clean freak.

However, he did not care about the mess from my puking, and he grabbed me in a tight hold once more.

"Sorry, I've been swamped with work lately and haven't had the time to look after you. It's my bad for not being there, especially when getting around is tough for you," he said, gripping my hand with a look of genuine concern.

He guided me back to my room and offered to help me change into fresh clothes. I turned him down, managing to dress myself while seated in my wheelchair. It was a small victory—the first time since we got married—that I did not need his assistance.

Matthew's hand, which had been casually resting by his side, tensed.

I ignored the shift in his mood and settled back into bed as if nothing had happened.

Matthew pulled the covers up to my chin with a gentleness that seemed out of place.

"Wendy, I know I've messed up, not being there for you. Don't be mad, okay? Tomorrow's our anniversary. Why don't I clear my schedule so we can spend the day together?"

Matthew was a force to be reckoned with at work—a man of action. However, around me, he turned into someone else—cautious and considerate. It left a sour taste in my mouth.

'Matthew, do you really love me, or is this just another one of your performances?' I wondered.

Sleep was tugging at my eyelids, and Matthew stayed close by my side as I was about to give in. However, his phone broke the silence with a single ping.

He silenced it quickly, but not before I heard it.

In the dim light, I could feel his eyes on me. I did not give any sign that I had noticed, and after a moment, he picked up the call.

"Matt, you went too far tonight. I'm aching all over. Get me some ointment, will you?"

"I'll be right there," he whispered.

He glanced at me one more time, and seeing no reaction, he stood up and left the room.

I gripped the sheets, fighting back tears. So the assistant was still around? He had kept her upstairs?

Were they so reckless because I could not climb the stairs?

I told myself to hang in there; I would be out of his life for good in just seven days.

The next morning, I woke up to find Matthew already bustling about in the kitchen, fixing my all-time favorite breakfast.

"Wendy, watch out, it's hot. Let me cool it for you," he said, sounding caring and concerned.

However, I could feel the female assistant upstairs seething with jealousy.

Her burning glare was almost tangible, even from upstairs.

As expected, Matthew's phone buzzed. He thought I was clueless, but I saw it clear as day—the text he sent to his assistant.

[Be patient, I'm with Wendy now. I'll make it up to you tonight.]

That seemed to cheer her up, but my grip tightened around the spoon under the table.

I did not let Matthew feed me another bite. Instead, I started spooning up my breakfast, fiercely independent.

Matthew sensed my shift in mood. He figured I was still upset about last night, so after breakfast, he was set on taking me out to have some fun.

He had reserved a restaurant's rooftop for us, throwing a big bash with friends to celebrate our anniversary.

He pushed my wheelchair out of the car with the utmost care, moving at a snail's pace, worried about every little bump. He kept reminiscing about our love story, but I was only going through the motions, my heart heavy with irony.

I had once believed in his promises. I had thought we would be together until we were old and gray.

However, in just six short months, he had fallen for his assistant and tossed our love aside.

They even turned me into a prop for their excitement.

Stepping out of the elevator, I was greeted by a sea of rose petals blanketing the restaurant floor.

I had always been allergic to pollen, but his assistant seemed to love it. I could not help but feel a sting of irony as I caught the look of sheer joy on her face from across the room.

It was pretty obvious who that whole party had really been for.

"Wendy, we got married here. I told the whole world that I love you and will always stand by you," Matthew said, reminiscing with a warmth in his voice that did not quite match up with reality.

He grabbed my hand and squeezed it like he meant it.

It made me wonder how deep love must have run for a guy to get all misty-eyed just thinking about the past.

If only I had not caught him cheating.

If I had not seen him with her, maybe I would have been sobbing with him today.

Matthew was good to me once upon a time. He did love me.

However, times changed, and his love had spread thin, shared with the assistant.

I pull my hand back, keeping my face as calm as a serene lake. Matthew looked taken aback, hurt even, but he shook it off fast, turning his gaze away.

There she was, the assistant, decked out in a gown that Matthew had made just for her. One would say that clothes make a person; she was the epitome of grace and elegance. That made me, in my simple clothes and wheelchair, look plain in comparison.

She came over, smiling, and said, "Wendy, happy anniversary."

She thought I did not notice, but after her words, she sneaked a touch on Matthew's hand behind his back.

"Mr. Larson, everything you've asked for is ready. Countdown starts now... Three, two, one!"

Her cue launched a sky full of fireworks, lighting the night in a blaze of glory.

However, I sat in my wheelchair, with Matthew and the assistant cozied up next to me.

They look like the perfect couple, not him and me.

That had hurt more than anything.

Matthew's eyes were locked on his assistant with such warmth; it was clear who the party and the fireworks were really for.

He had not stayed by my side for long, quickly asking the nanny to look after me.

"Wendy, just wait here for me, okay?" he said.

With that, he was off, practically dragging his assistant out the door.