Five years. That’s how long I’d been taking care of my paralyzed boyfriend, Perry. And finally, his legs were showing signs of life. Just as we were planning our wedding, Cara—the woman who put him in that wheelchair—walked back into his life, a child in tow. He kept postponing the wedding, making excuses about needing to help her and her son. I found him with his friend, clutching the latest draft from our wedding planner, ready to ask him for a final date. But I stopped short when I heard his friend, Cole, speaking in a low voice. "If she finds out you've legally become Andy's father, Chloe might actually leave you for good," Cole warned. "You need to tell her, and soon." Perry, the man who was supposedly paralyzed, was standing by the window, looking out at the city lights. He just shrugged. "She stuck by me all those years in a wheelchair. You think she'd leave me over a few postponed weddings?" he scoffed. "My own father walked out on my mom and me. I'm just trying to give my son the love I never had. What's so wrong with that?" My fingers went numb. I slowly twisted the ring on my finger, the one that had never quite fit. Perry, I thought, a cold certainty settling in my chest. This time, I'm the one who's walking out. 1 The wedding was pushed back so many times that even the event company started calling. "Ms. Davis, have you and your fiancé confirmed a new date?" the planner asked, her voice laced with professional patience. I traced the indentation the too-tight ring had left on my skin. "No," I managed to say, my throat tight. "You can keep the deposit. We're canceling." There was a stunned silence on the other end. "Oh. Of... of course." From March to October, Perry had used his paralysis as the perfect excuse. The date on the invitations had been scratched out and rewritten so many times they were a mess. I wasn't waiting anymore. Just then, my phone buzzed with a wall of text from him. The block of words made my eyes ache. I automatically scrolled to the end, my fingers moving with practiced exhaustion. "Chloe, let's push the wedding back another two months. I really want to be standing on my own two feet when I marry you." He’d always said he didn't want me to suffer the whispers and pitying looks, the shame of having a husband in a wheelchair. Like a fool, I'd believed he was protecting me. I’d spent days glowing with pride at his consideration. But the truth was, the endless delays had already made me a laughingstock. I used to reply to him in seconds. This time, I just closed the message. I couldn't bring myself to type "Okay" one more time. In this relationship, the moment I stopped pushing, everything would grind to a halt. For once, he called immediately. "Chloe? Is something wrong? You're not answering my texts." Was he worried about me, or just annoyed that I hadn't instantly agreed to his demand? I dug my nails into my palm, forcing a calm I didn't feel. "I'm fine, Perry. Nothing's wrong…" He cut me off. "Let's talk about the wedding later. I'm not coming home tonight. There's a problem with the Crestview project, I have to go check it out." He didn't even wait for my response, just assumed my compliance. "I'll bring you back your favorite perfume, okay?" I stood frozen in the hallway for a long time after he hung up. Cole came out of Perry’s office and nearly ran into me. His eyes widened. "You... you heard all that?" I nodded, my body feeling hollow. I shoved the wedding planner's portfolio into the office shredder, the machine whirring to life and devouring our future. I turned back to Cole and put a finger to my lips. "Don't tell him I was here," I whispered. "Please. For old times' sake." That night, Perry, the man who was supposedly out of town on business, came home for dinner. His eyes fell on the simple omelet on the table. "This again? Can't we have something else? I'm getting tired of it." For years, whenever he came home drunk from a networking dinner, I'd make him an omelet. It helped with the hangovers. Every single time, he would smile and pull me close. "Chloe, you're the only one who takes such good care of me." Now, he was tired of it. I didn't know if he meant the omelet, or the woman who'd made it for him every day for five years. Sensing my unusual silence, he tried to soften his tone. "Hey, I doubled my physical therapy session today," he said, reaching for my hand. "I'm going to stand at our wedding, Chloe. I promise. It will be perfect." He couldn't even look me in the eye when he lied. I wanted to scream. Is it fun? Does it feel good to play me for a fool? But before I could say a word, a frantic knocking echoed through the apartment. "Perry! Perry, please!" It was Cara. "Perry, the landlord kicked us out! We have nowhere else to go! Can we just stay for a few days? Please?" Perry's voice was ice as he told her to get lost, but he was already wheeling himself toward the door, faster than I’d seen him move in months. "Have you no shame?" he snarled, the calm man I knew disappearing into a storm of rage. "You think this is some kind of shelter for your mistakes? Cara, you make me sick!" He spat every venomous word he could think of. But then the door swung open, and he saw the child, Andy, shivering and soaked to the bone. The fury in his eyes flickered, replaced by a flicker of pity. His gaze darted to me. Perry was smart. He was trying to make this my decision. But I knew that if they set foot in this apartment, they would never leave. "I'm not okay with this," I said, each word sharp and clear. Perry looked completely thrown, as if he never imagined I would say no. The little boy, Andy, suddenly clung to his leg. "Please, mister? Can we stay? Please?" Perry’s hand instinctively went to Andy's forehead. It was burning hot. In an instant, he scooped the boy onto his lap. "Get the doctor on the phone!" he roared. He turned his anger on Cara. "What kind of mother are you? He has a fever and you let him get soaked in the rain?" But underneath the anger, his voice trembled with worry. "I didn't know," Cara sobbed, scrambling after him. In the chaos, I was completely forgotten, an invisible spectator in my own home. It turned out to be just a minor cold. When Perry finally noticed my red-rimmed eyes, he took my hand, his grip tight. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice soothing. "I'll find them a place as soon as I can. They'll be gone in a few days, I promise." But I knew he had already made his choice. I went to the bathroom to splash some water on my face. When I came back, Cara was sitting in my chair at the dinner table. Perry was patiently spoon-feeding Andy, his face lit with a tenderness I had never seen before. It was as if his earlier rage had been a performance. Cara shot me a triumphant, mocking smile before placing a piece of okra in Perry’s bowl. It was the one vegetable he absolutely hated. For five years, I’d begged him to just try it. "Can't you make an exception, just for me?" I’d ask. He’d always refused. "I don't like it, Chloe. Period." But what he did next was a silent, deliberate humiliation. He ate it without a flicker of expression. Then he turned to me. "Chloe, make sure you clean the wheelchair tonight," he said, his tone flat. "And disinfect my training equipment in the study." He sounded like he was giving orders to the hired help. And in that moment, something inside me finally broke. A strange sense of release washed over me. Five years. It felt like a lifetime, but my real life was just beginning. 2 As I dragged my suitcase out from the back of the closet, my phone lit up with a series of videos from an unknown number. They were all recordings of Perry, in the dead of night, rocking a small child to sleep. Andy. My hands trembled as I opened the security app for our apartment. The footage was all there. Every night, for months, he'd bring me a glass of milk laced with sleeping pills, wait for me to pass out, and then leave. His legs were perfectly fine. He could walk. He had been able to walk for a long time. A crushing weight settled on my chest, making it hard to breathe. Tonight was no different. Perry handed me the glass of milk, kissing my cheek just like he always did. "Drink up and get some sleep." The milk with the hidden dose. My hand shook as I took the glass, but I drank every last drop in front of him. "I thought you had to go out of town," I said, my voice surprisingly steady. "I passed it to Cole. It's been too long since I spent a night with you." The words were so sincere, but I knew better now. "Andy is just a little kid," he continued, watching me closely. "You should be gentler with him. It would help you two get closer. You're always saying how much you love kids. Well, here's one right here for you." He paused, his tone shifting. "I think you were a bit cold today. You scared him." The accusation was unmistakable. He’d forgotten. The reason I always stared so longingly at other people's children was because I had lost one of our own for him. But I was too tired to dredge up the past, too exhausted to scream and fight. I faked a yawn and gently pushed him toward the door. "I'm tired. You should get back to your work." He lingered in the doorway for a moment, as if he was waiting for me to beg for a goodnight kiss, to wrap myself around him like I used to, clinging to him, asking again and again if he wanted to sleep beside me. He didn't even notice that I'd skipped his nightly physical therapy routine. Perry just assumed the sleeping pills had kicked in. The second the door clicked shut, I scrambled to the bathroom, forcing my fingers down my throat until the milky bitterness came back up. A wave of nausea washed over me, a familiar feeling lately. My period was always irregular, but it had been a while. My hand trembled as I reached for the pregnancy test I’d stashed under the sink. Two pink lines. I had moved in with Perry five years ago to take care of him after the accident. Back then, I was so naive, so certain this would one day be our home, our family. I opened the closet. My clothes took up a tiny section. As I pulled my things out, one of Perry’s jackets fell to the floor. A ticket stub fluttered out from the pocket. A souvenir from Disneyland. The date was August 11th. My birthday. I had begged him for weeks to be home, just for that one night. He’d called late, saying he was swamped with work and couldn't get away. While I waited for him, my birthday cake melted on the counter. He wasn't working. He was at the happiest place on earth with Cara and her son. Out of all the hours in my birthday, he had only thought of me for the five minutes it took to make that phone call. Just then, I heard a child’s voice from down the hall, followed by Perry’s soft singing. “Daddy, can you sing me to sleep like this every night?” Andy asked. There was a pause. Then, Perry's voice, full of a warmth he never gave me anymore. “Of course. Daddy will always be here for you.” He added, his voice dropping slightly, “But remember, when Aunt Chloe is around, you have to call me Uncle.” In the hallway, I heard Cara’s cheerful whisper. “Wasn’t my performance brilliant tonight? You owe me a reward for that, Perry.” “Cara, this is the last time I’m letting you get away with this! In two days, you’re…” He thought I was asleep. He didn't even bother to lower his voice. The lie was a performance. And I was the audience. A dull, drilling pain started in my chest, a helpless agony that came with being so thoroughly deceived. The tears I’d been holding back finally broke free, and I pressed my hand to my mouth to stifle the sobs, my body shaking in the silent darkness. … My friend was supposed to pick me up at ten. In the few minutes I was in the bathroom, Andy had overturned my entire suitcase, stomping on my carefully packed clothes with his dirty shoes. He made a face at me. “You’re the bad woman who stole my daddy,” he sneered. “Get out of my house!” Over the years, plenty of people had shown up claiming Perry was the father of their child, all looking for money. The paternity test wasn’t even back yet. “He might not even be Perry’s son…” I started to say. Cara rushed in, clapping her hands over Andy’s ears dramatically. “Chloe, please, I’m begging you, don’t say things like that in front of him,” she cried, her voice trembling. “Andy’s been called a bastard his whole life. If you can’t accept him being here, I’ll take him and leave right now.” The word “bastard” seemed to pierce right through Perry’s heart. He wheeled himself forward, positioning himself between me and them like a shield. His face was a cold mask. “That’s enough. Why would you say something so cruel to a child?” he demanded. “Chloe, if you have a problem, take it up with me. Don’t take it out on a little boy.” His voice dripped with disdain. “I bought you those clothes. So what if he stepped on them?” In that moment, they looked like a family, united against an intruder. I felt like a complete and utter fool. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. “Fine, Perry. Think whatever you want.” “It doesn’t matter anymore. We’re over.” 3 Perry’s brow furrowed in irritation. “Why do you always have to blow things out of proportion?” Just like that, I was the one being unreasonable, the one at fault. He sighed, a calculated show of patience. “Look, I overreacted. I’ll have Andy apologize to you.” Andy, who had been so defiant just moments before, instantly transformed. He burst into tears and mumbled an apology. “I’m sorry, Auntie. I was wrong.” But I was done compromising. With a final tug, I wrenched the bracelet from my wrist. It was a family heirloom his mother had given me the day I agreed to be his girlfriend. “Take it back,” I said, my voice flat. “He already said he was sorry! What more do you want?” Perry stared at me, his eyes filled with genuine confusion, as if he truly couldn't comprehend what I was so upset about. “We’re about to get married, and you’re going to throw a tantrum and break up with me now?” “What if I asked you to send them away, right now? Can you do that, Perry?” I looked straight at him. Maybe it was the hormones, but I needed to hear his answer. One last time. If he said no, I would walk out that door and never look back. “This is my house. Who are you to tell me who can and can’t be here?” he sneered. “What’s next? Are you going to threaten me with the five years you spent taking care of me?” His voice turned venomous. “Did I beg you to do it? I don’t understand what you’re so broken up about. Chloe, you’re the one who cried and pleaded with your father to let you be with me. You were the one who chose to be this pathetic!” I flinched as if he’d struck me. Yesterday’s kisses and today’s insults, all from the same mouth. The acid of his words burned in my chest, sharp as broken glass. For a fleeting moment, I remembered how he used to look at me, his eyes full of adoration, how he’d sworn he would love me for the rest of his life. I remembered the long nights, helping him to the bathroom, and how he’d gently wipe the sweat from my brow, whispering “I’m sorry” over and over again. “I’ll get back on my feet, Chloe,” he’d promised. “I will stand up and marry you.” Well, he could stand now. And the first thing he did with his recovery was weave a web of intricate lies to hide it from me. I wiped the tears from my face and forced a smile. “You’re right. I brought this on myself.” “I was a fool to waste five years of my life.” Even through the hardest days of his recovery, the endless physical therapy, the crushing financial strain, I never once cried or complained. Perry looked stunned, as if the reality of what he’d said was only just hitting him. Before he could respond, Andy started scratching frantically at his arms. “Daddy, it’s so itchy!” he cried, pointing at me with a trembling finger. “Auntie made me eat peanut brittle. I told her I didn’t want it, and she said she would hit me if I didn’t!” He threw himself into Perry’s arms. “Daddy, I’m so scared.” Cara lunged at me, shoving me hard. “If you have a problem with us, why don’t you just say it? Why do you have to resort to these disgusting little tricks? I told you last night that he’s allergic to peanuts!” Her voice rose to a hysterical shriek. “He’s just a child! How could you be so cruel?” My lower back slammed into the armrest of a chair. Pain exploded through me, and my legs gave out. I collapsed to the floor. “I didn’t,” I whispered, shaking my head. “I didn’t even know he had an allergy…” But Perry’s next action destroyed any lingering hope I had left. He slapped me, hard, across the face. “Andy is four years old! Why would he lie?” he roared. “If you didn’t want him here, you should have just told me! You didn’t have to attack a child!” Within seconds, angry red welts were breaking out all over Andy’s skin, and he began to struggle for breath. I looked up at Perry, my cheek stinging. “How can you trust her? The woman who put you in a wheelchair for five years?” His gaze was like ice, shattering the last of my pride. “That’s between her and me. When did it become your place to judge?” I thought five years of unwavering devotion would mean something. I thought it would earn me his trust, his heart. I was wrong. I was never anything more than a convenience. And I was so, so glad I had decided to leave. In his panic, Perry shot up from the wheelchair, scooping the boy into his arms and running for the door. He wasn’t even pretending to be paralyzed anymore. Cara scrambled after them, sobbing. “Perry, he’s going to be okay, right?” Even in his frantic state, he paused to reassure her. “He’ll be fine. I’ll get the best doctors in the city!” I remembered falling in the shower just two days ago. The pain in my spine had been so intense I’d burst into tears. Perry had stood in the doorway, his eyes filled with conflict, before finally yelling for the housekeeper to help me up. Even with me hurt on the floor, he wouldn't break his cover. But a simple allergic reaction from Andy was enough to throw his entire world into chaos. I tried to push myself up, using the staircase for support, but my arms had no strength. I slumped back to the floor. That’s when I saw it. A crimson stain was spreading on the pale floorboards, a slow, dark river flowing from between my legs. My hand was steady as I pulled out my phone. “Dr. Evans,” I said, my voice empty of all emotion. “I need you to schedule me for a D&C.”
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