I Lost My Leg Saving Him,He Arranged a Blind Date to Get Rid of Me

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.