"Thank you for your concern. Everything I did, I did willingly. Even if I had a hundred more chances, I'd make the same choice."
After delivering his heartfelt speech, Joel lowered his head and whispered through clenched teeth.
"Say one more word, and I'll break your other leg. You'll spend the rest of your life in that chair."
I gripped the divorce papers tighter.
There was nothing left in my heart for him but hatred.
Joel Fletcher, if you want to play dirty, don't blame me for dragging your secrets into the light.
Afraid I might say something reckless, he kept a firm grip on my wheelchair the entire time, steering me toward the officials.
"Director Owen Perry, I'm so sorry for the scene today."
Owen Perry clapped him on the shoulder. "Joel, you're a hero to all of us."
"Lily Hansen, I truly apologize."
"Joel, we all saw what happened. You did the right thing."
Joel ducked his head, voice cracking. "I know I failed my wife. But so many people needed me that day. If I could go back, I'd rather not be a hero at all."
Then he knelt beside my wheelchair again, performing his repentance.
"Honey, I'm sorry. But I don't regret it. If I had to choose again, I'd make the same call."
The crowd's expressions shifted—admiration for him, disgust for me.
"His wife is so immature. Making a scene at a time like this."
"This was supposed to be an awards ceremony. She turned it into a courtroom."
"She only lost a leg. She's lucky to be alive—Captain Fletcher saved her."
Hearing them defend him, my knee began to throb.
Everyone surged forward to take photos with the hero. I got pushed to the outer edge of the crowd.
I watched the corners of Joel's mouth twitch upward. Pure joy he couldn't quite hide.
Go ahead and smile, hero. Once the truth comes out, you won't be smiling anymore.
I wheeled myself away from that suffocating scene.
Outside, a light drizzle had begun to fall.
I searched for an accessible ramp. The people nearby didn't bother lowering their voices.
"Always talking about divorce, but look—she's still waiting for Captain Fletcher. Can't even get down a few steps without him."
"Exactly. He seems like such a good man. Who knew he'd end up with such a petty wife."
I almost laughed.
A good man?
A good man who just threatened to break my other leg?
If he hadn't found me in the rubble—if I'd ended up disabled because no one knew I was there—I wouldn't blame him.
But I was right at his feet.
He kept telling me to wait. I waited until my leg went numb. Until my body turned cold.
I told him if he didn't pull me out, I would die.
What did he say?
"Stop being dramatic. Other people need me more. You can still talk, so you're fine."
I passed out before he ever came back.
When I woke up, my lower leg was gone.
I shattered.
When I held the knife to my wrist, the TV was playing footage of Joel—clip after clip of his heroic rescue efforts.
Everyone praised his noble sacrifice. Giving up his family for the greater good.
I set the fruit knife down.
Why?
Why should my leg buy him glory?
I couldn't accept it. I dragged my half-healed body to his award ceremony.
But no one could truly understand.
Not the officials. Not the crowd. And now, not the internet either.
