To save up for my wife’s expensive asthma medication, I worked the dangerous high-rise job around our apartment complex, even on a day with winds strong enough to knock someone off their feet.

However, that was when I accidentally witnessed my wife cheating on me with her ex-boyfriend, and to entertain him, she picked up a fruit knife and slowly cut through my safety rope. My body slammed into the ground so hard that the impact shattered the bones in my leg.

Only later did I learn the truth: the one with asthma wasn’t my wife at all—it was her first love. All the money I’d been saving for her? She had been giving him every cent.

Eventually, the same cold, proud woman I once married ended up on her knees in front of me, begging for help. I called the building security over and had them drag her out.

“Get that filth out of here,” I said. “It’s hurting my eyes.”

The wind was raging, as if it wanted to tear the whole world apart. I was helping with exterior wall repairs on the twelfth floor of a high-rise when I happened to glance through the window. That one glance shook my world.

My wife, Bailey Hannold, who was supposed to be on duty at the hospital, was inside the apartment, wrapped tightly in the arms of her ex-boyfriend, Derek Crane. They were kissing like they couldn’t bear to let each other go.

Inside, everything was heated and intimate—a contrast to the howling wind outside. My heart felt like it had been ripped open, and a cold chill flooded me.

“What the hell are you doing?”

I slammed my fist against the window in fury, desperate to break up the disgusting scene in front of me. The thick glass muffled my voice, but the heavy thudding at least caught their attention.

Up on the roof, one of the guys heard the noise too, but he thought I was signaling him to lower the safety rope. By the time Bailey and Derek pushed open the window to look down, I was already being lowered to the ninth floor.

Derek looked worried as he asked her, “Bailey, do you think he saw anything? Is he going to use this to blackmail us? I mean, you are a married woman…”

Bailey let out a dismissive laugh.

“Please. These broke, powerless construction workers get shaken easily. We should cut his rope and teach him to mind his own business… and keep his mouth shut.”

Derek hesitated. “Isn’t that taking it too far?”

Bailey shot him a harsh glare. “What are you afraid of? What can he possibly do to us?”

With that, she grabbed a kitchen knife and started sawing at my safety rope.

The wind was already whipping me around, and with the rope getting thinner and thinner, I was on the verge of falling to my death. Terrified, I swung wildly, trying to find any foothold or surface to steady myself.

The ridiculous sight made Derek burst into laughter. “Look at him! He looks like a clown doing some over-the-top stunt in a circus!”

Wanting to entertain him even more, Bailey dug into the rope with extra force.

I shouted with everything I had, hoping someone would hear me. Alas, the roaring wind was too loud. All I could do was slam myself against whatever parts of the wall I could reach, creating noise so the workers above would lower me further.

It worked. Slowly, they lowered me toward the fifth floor. Unfortunately, by then, the safety rope had been cut so badly that it finally snapped in two. My body dropped instantly, just like a kite that had lost its string.

The wind screamed in my ears as I fell. Faintly, I could still hear the manic laughter coming from the twelfth floor. The overwhelming weightlessness wiped out every thought in my mind.

Then, my body crashed into the ground with a violent impact. It felt like every bone in me shattered at once. Pain shot through me like sharp knives, spreading from my right leg throughout my entire body.

I could feel the bone in my right leg break. The agony was so intense that I couldn’t stop myself from groaning. Sweat and tears poured out uncontrollably, soaking my clothes in seconds.

The betrayal, the despair, and the sheer physical pain twisted together, slicing through my heart. I couldn’t believe my wife, the woman I loved so deeply, could be so cruel. The same woman who once promised me forever was now the demon who threw me into hell.

With both my body and my heart crushed, I sank into overwhelming darkness.

I slowly opened my heavy eyelids, and the first thing I saw was white. The doctors must’ve already operated on me, but my leg still felt like countless steel needles were stabbing into it. To make things worse, I desperately needed to use the bathroom.

I turned my head slightly toward the guy in the next bed. His wife was hovering over him with genuine worry, asking him how he felt after surgery. Their daughter was leaning against the bedside, whispering words of comfort. They looked like a happy family.

A wave of envy washed over me. I really didn’t want to disturb their peaceful moment, so I decided to hold it in until the doctor came for rounds. However, as I continued to struggle and felt my limits quickly approaching, one of my co-workers rushed into the room holding my admission papers.

His face was full of panic. “Jeremy, how’re you holding up? The doctor said you broke your right leg. You’ll need to stay in bed for two months.”

I opened my mouth, but not a word came out. I honestly couldn’t even tell what hurt more anymore—my leg or my bladder. The pain blurred everything in my head.

So, I just reached out a trembling hand and forced out two words, “Bathroom… please…”

My co-worker understood instantly and hurried out to get a wheelchair from the nurse before carefully lifting me into it.

After taking care of the most urgent problem in life, I sat in the wheelchair while my co-worker slowly pushed me back toward my room.

Right then, I saw Bailey pulling a doctor aside, her face full of panic as she asked, “Doctor, how’s my husband?”

My heart twisted. Had she finally realized that the man she caused to fall and break his leg was her own husband? Was that guilt and regret? Was she here to see me?

A faint, conflicted hope rose in my chest. However, the next exchange shattered that hope instantly.

The doctor looked at her with confusion. “Your husband? You mean the man who was just brought in, Derek Crane?”

Bailey nodded quickly. “Yes, that’s him. The wind was really strong today. He was laughing hard when he opened the window and then suddenly had an asthma attack.”

The doctor frowned at her excuse, clearly irritated. “Patients with asthma should avoid emotional triggers and anything that could cause an attack. You didn’t know that?”

Bailey lowered her head, apologizing over and over. “I’m sorry, doctor. I don’t have asthma myself, so I didn’t know. I’ll definitely take better care of my husband from now on.”

My mind went blank. She didn’t have asthma. She never did. Yet, ever since we got married, she’d been constantly asking me for money to buy expensive imported asthma medication. As it turned out, all my hard-earned wages were for her ex-boyfriend?

A stabbing pain ripped through my chest. It felt like my heart had been pierced straight through.

She’d never once met any of my co-workers—not even after we married—because she thought my job was embarrassing. Naturally, my co-worker assumed she was a loving wife deeply worried about her husband. He pushed me right past Derek’s room.

I tried my best to stare straight ahead, telling myself not to look, think, or feel. However, in the end, I couldn’t stop myself. I turned my head and peeked inside. That one glance made my heart sink all over again.

Bailey was gently holding a cup for Derek, helping him with some water. She looked so caring and tender, a side she had never shown me before

When he accidentally choked, she immediately patted his back with gentle strokes and whispered, “Slow down. Careful.”

Worry was genuine in her voice, but every word was like a knife slicing into my chest.

My eyes flooded with tears before I even realized it, blurring everything in front of me.

My co-worker noticed something was wrong and asked with concern, “Are you okay, Jeremy? Are you feeling sick or something?”

I forced back my tears, shook my head, and said, “I’m fine. I’m just feeling a little homesick.”

Then, I added, “Do me a favor. Go to my place and grab a few changes of clothes. And bring me the small box by the entryway.”

Due to the dirty nature of my job, I never mixed my clothes with Bailey’s. The few sets I owned were all kept in a small cabinet by the door, and that little box in the entryway contained all the medical records Bailey had shown me whenever she needed money for her asthma treatments.

I always thought that if her asthma ever acted up, I could rush those records to the hospital right away. As long as I had them, I could consult a respiratory specialist and figure out what was real and what wasn’t.

When the doctor looked over her records, he studied them for a moment before frowning.

“This looks right,” he said slowly. “But this hospital requires all medical reports to have the attending physician’s handwritten signature. And here, the signature is missing. This is clearly forged.”

Hearing that, an inexplicable bitterness rose inside me.

Bailey worked as a triage nurse in this very hospital. She knew exactly what a real medical record looked like. However, because I trusted her so much, I never once questioned why none of her records had a doctor’s signature. I never even questioned why she never brought home her full medical reports, always saying the doctor had reviewed them and nothing was wrong.

I had been blindly trusting her, thinking she just didn’t want me to worry. I never imagined it to be all a lie.

Before we got married, she had looked at me with a serious expression and said, “There are three things I hope you’ll think carefully about before accepting me. The first thing is that my family was strongly against my staying with my seriously ill ex-boyfriend. That’s why I agreed to go on a blind date with you. But after we get married, I promise to let go of my past.”

I looked at her beautiful face, filled with love, and answered without hesitation, “Bailey, I trust you. I can accept that.”

She continued, “Second, I have asthma, and I need expensive medication regularly.”

I took her hand and replied gently, “It’s okay. I’ll work hard and make sure you have the best medicine.”

It was because of that promise that I worked day and night, taking on dangerous high-altitude jobs no one else wanted.

“Third,” she said, “because I work at the hospital, I’ll often need to work overtime or switch shifts. During those times, I hope you won’t bother me.”

I had laughed foolishly and said, “Don’t worry. I’ll support my wife’s job. I won’t bother you.”

Back then, because I loved her so much, I agreed to everything without a second thought. The irony was that it was all fake.

She never let go of her ex, Derek. She married me only to secure financial support for his medical care. All those nights she said she was working overtime or switching shifts? She was with him.

Just then, my phone kept ringing, refusing to stop. When I finally picked up, the first thing she said was, “Honey, I’m feeling really unwell today. Can you wire me two thousand dollars? I need to get more asthma medication.”

Hearing her voice, a scoff surfaced in my heart. She had no idea I had uncovered her lies. She still thought I was the same gullible fool she could push around. If I sent her the money now, she would definitely use it to refill Derek’s medication.

With that thought, I replied coldly, “I’m in the hospital. I don’t have money to send you.”