Zelene's POV

On the fifteenth day of the New Year, my husband, Alger Doyle, came rushing home, all excited, saying he wanted to take me somewhere.

I thought to myself—after all these years, he still wants to surprise me?

But the last place I expected him to take me was the police station.

Before I could even react, he grabbed my hand and pulled me inside. The next thing I knew, cold metal snapped around my wrists—handcuffs.

Alger looked the officers straight in the eye and said with conviction, “She’s the one who set the fire in the mountains yesterday.” Then, he pulled out a video as proof.

I stared at the screen in shock. The person in the footage had my face—but the body shape was completely different from mine.

Just as I opened my mouth to refute it, Alger leaned down and whispered, “Babe, do this for Carly, please. She’s not in good health. She won’t survive in here.” His voice was calm, almost reassuring. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of everything at home.”

Then, without another word, he turned and walked away.

——

My mind went blank. I had never, not in my worst nightmares, imagined that the man I had been married to for years would send me to prison… for another woman.

“Alger! Don’t go! Explain this to me!”

I lunged forward, desperate to grab him, to demand answers, but the officers held me back. All I could do was watch as he walked away.

That night—the night families were supposed to be together, celebrating the new year—I sat alone in a cold detention cell.

I had only been wearing a thin sweater when we left the house. Now, the freezing air seeped into my bones, making me shiver uncontrollably. My teeth chattered, and my fingers were numb.

I could no longer stand the cold. Seeing others covered with blankets, I called the police and asked, “I’m freezing. Can I get a blanket?”

But the officer barely glanced at me. “Blankets have to be brought in by family members. If you want one, you’ll have to call someone to send it.”

I was so cold that I had no choice. I asked for a phone and dialed Alger’s number. It rang and rang but there was no answer.

The officer, growing impatient, tapped his foot. Seeing it, I took a deep breath and called again. This time, someone picked up. But the voice on the other end wasn’t Alger’s. It was hers—Carly Gill.

She said “Hello?” a few times, her tone light, almost amused.

My grip tightened on the phone. “Why do you have Alger’s phone?”

I didn’t bother hiding my anger. Why was she with my husband this late at night?

Carly chuckled softly. “Oh, Alger felt bad that I was spending the holiday alone, so he invited me over for New Year’s dinner.” Her voice was sickeningly sweet.

I couldn’t even process what she said after that. All I knew was that while I was here, shivering in a cold, dark cell, they were together—eating, celebrating, happy.

I hung up without another word and handed the phone back to the officer.

At that moment, no amount of cold could compare to the icy numbness in my heart. I sat there, staring at the full moon outside the barred window, my chest tightening with grief.

I had spent years taking care of Alger, learning to cook and clean—things I had never known how to do before. I thought our marriage was solid, that I had built something strong. But little did I know, his heart had left me long ago.

Silent tears streamed down my face, and no matter how hard I wiped them, they wouldn’t stop. I cried until exhaustion took over, until my body slumped against the cold wall, until I finally drifted off.

Half-awake, half-asleep, I felt something was wrong. My body was burning up.

With the last bit of strength I had, I called out, “Officer…”

Immediately, they rushed over, alarmed at how hot my skin was. Within minutes, they had an ambulance on the way.

On the ride to the hospital, the officers kept calling Alger. At first, his line was busy. Then, he declined their calls.

They called again. And again. Finally, after over ten attempts, he answered.

Zelene's POV

The police called Alger, telling him I had a high fever and had been taken to the hospital. They asked him to come and pay the medical fees. But his response was cold and indifferent.

“She’s a criminal. She should be punished. Don’t bother taking her to the hospital—she’s as strong as an ox. She’ll be fine.”

With that, he hung up.

The officer glanced at me and let out a sigh.

Before I could process what had just happened, a sudden, violent impact rocked the entire vehicle. My body was thrown forward, weightless, as everything went black.

When I came to, the first thing I saw was Alger standing by my bedside, his face full of concern. He was murmuring words of comfort, telling me everything would be okay. But his voice, his expression—everything about him only made my stomach turn.

I had heard everything he said to the police that night. Every single word.

“Alger, what am I to you?” My voice was hoarse, but my anger was razor-sharp. “I had a fever, and you didn’t care. You even told the police not to send me to the hospital. So what’s with this fake concern now?”

For a brief second, guilt flashed across his face. But just as quickly, it was gone. He put on his caring act again and kept rambling about how he’d take care of me for the rest of my life, even if I was disabled.

His words made no sense—until I felt it. A searing pain in my lower body.

I threw off the blanket and froze. Where were my legs?

Frantic, I tore the sheets away again and again, but each time, all I saw was emptiness.

“You were in a car accident,” Alger explained. “The doctors said it was a miracle they could save you. You survived—that’s what matters. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you when you’re discharged.”

His voice droned on, but I couldn’t hear him anymore. My hands trembled as I touched my lower body as if trying to prove that this wasn’t real.

No feeling. No sensation. Nothing.

I slammed my fists against my thighs—still, no pain.

This wasn’t happening.

Seeing my breakdown, Alger rushed forward and pulled me into his arms, telling me to calm down.

But his touch only made me want to vomit. I lifted my head and stared at him, my vision blurred with tears.

This was his fault. All of it! If he hadn’t framed me, none of this would have happened. I wouldn’t be here. I wouldn’t have lost my legs.

Rage surged through me. I grabbed his arm and sank my teeth into it.

He screamed, trying to pull away, but I held on, biting down harder. I wanted him to feel even a fraction of the pain I was in.

Soon, warm blood trickled down my lips, the taste metallic and bitter.

Just then, the door burst open, and officers rushed in and forced us apart.

Alger cradled his bleeding arm and glared at me. “I tried to comfort you, and this is how you repay me? You just committed assault—right in front of the police!”

The officer next to him rolled his eyes and shoved him toward the door. “That’s enough. Get out.”

As soon as he was gone, silence filled the room.

The metallic taste of blood made me nauseous. I reached for the glass of water on the table, but without my legs, I couldn’t push myself up.

I tried again. And again. But each attempt ended in failure.

The realization crashed over me like a tidal wave. I was crippled. Helpless.

I broke down, sobbing uncontrollably, my cries echoing through the hospital room.

These past few days had been the darkest of my life. I had been falsely accused of a crime. I had lost my freedom. And now, I had lost my legs. All because of the man I once loved.

I couldn’t accept it. I didn’t want to accept it.

The officer, seeing me in such a state, quietly left the room.

After that day, Alger never came back. Not that I cared. His empty words disgusted me. But I wasn’t doing any better. I barely ate. I barely slept.

The food the officers brought me sat untouched. My body grew weaker and my face became gaunt. It was as if all life had been drained out of me.

One afternoon, the door creaked open. Assuming it was the officer with my meal, I weakly said, “I’m not hungry.”

But when I turned my head, I met Carly’s gaze.

Zelene's POV

Carly put on an act, pretending to be concerned as she asked a few meaningless questions. But her eyes told the truth—full of mockery.

I hadn’t eaten in days, and seeing her only made me feel sicker. I turned away, refusing to look at her. But she clung to me like a curse, refusing to leave.

"Sis, how could you be so careless?" she sighed dramatically. "Losing your legs like this… how are you going to live now?"

Then, without warning, she yanked the blanket off me. Her eyes landed on my wounds, and she immediately recoiled, covering her face.

"Ugh! That’s disgusting!" she shrieked. "So much blood—what a nightmare! Poor Alger. Even after all this, he still won’t divorce you."

I had been avoiding looking at my injuries these past few days, pretending they weren’t there.

But hearing her say that… I snapped.

I grabbed the glass of water from the table and hurled it at her. The glass shattered against her, and a sharp shard cut across her face.

Carly let out a piercing scream, clutching her cheek.

Before I could react, Alger came running in from nowhere. He immediately pulled Carly behind him, shielding her as if she were some helpless victim.

Then, he turned on me, his eyes burning with anger. "Are you out of your mind? Carly came to see you out of kindness, and this is how you treat her?!"

He didn’t even spare me a glance when my wounds were out in the open, raw and bleeding. But the second Carly got a tiny cut, he acted like the world was ending.

Watching them stand there, playing the perfect couple, something inside me broke. I reached for everything on the table—books, cups, anything I could get my hands on—and threw them at them.

Since he was willing to be her prince charming, then I would make him one.

After shielding Carly from things I hurled at them, Alger snapped, roaring, "You're insane!"

Afterward, he finally dragged Carly out of the room.

Calming down, a realization dawned on me—he never cared for me. Now that I finally sorted it out, I wouldn't just sit here and wait for my death.

As such, I reached out to a lawyer. I needed evidence—proof that Carly was the one who set the fire.

Surprisingly, the lawyer worked fast. Within two days, he sent me a video.

As I watched the screen, my hands clenched into fists. Alger and Carly stood side by side in the video, laughing as they lit fireworks together.

After finishing the video, I took a deep breath, calming the storm inside me, and picked up my phone. To my surprise, Alger answered almost immediately.

"Alger, I realize now that I was wrong," I said, keeping my voice steady. "I want to apologize to you and Carly. Can you both come to my hospital room tomorrow at noon?"

There was a pause, then a satisfied chuckle. "I knew you’d come to your senses," he said. "That’s my good wife."

The next day, right on time, he arrived with Carly.

"You’re punctual," I said with a smirk. "Eager to hear my apology, huh?"

They both nodded with smug smiles on their faces.

"But there’s just one problem," I continued, my voice turning ice-cold. "I don’t know what I’m supposed to apologize for. From beginning to end, I was the only innocent one here."

Hearing that, their smiles instantly vanished.

"What…?" Alger wanted to ask, but I immediately cut him off.

"The fire. Carly set it. Yet I was the one who went to prison for it. And if that wasn’t enough, the two of you left me to die, turning me into a cripple!"

Alger scowled, already looking irritated. He then turned to leave, but before he could take a step, the officers standing by the door moved forward and snapped handcuffs around both of their wrists.

"You are under arrest for criminal activity," the officer announced. "You’ll be coming with us."