You Called Me A Cripple: He Called Me His Wife

For four years of marriage, my husband, Julian Crawford, had avoided me, repulsed by my crippled legs, never once willing to touch me.

And yet, in cruel contrast, my body betrayed me, my desires spiraling out of control.

During a gynecological exam, under the hands of a stranger-a male doctor-I lost control, soft, broken sounds slipping from my lips.

Outside the consultation room, my husband stood beside the woman he had never forgotten, Vanessa Whitmore, holding her in plain sight as he called me a "useless burden."

The doctor adjusted my skirt for me, his fingertips brushing slowly along the side of my thigh.

Then, in a low voice, he asked, "Do you want me to help you?"

......

"Ah-"

A soft, breathy moan echoed through the dining hall, drawing a wave of startled, judgmental glances.

I, Evelyn Ashford, didn't seem to notice. My eyes were locked on the phone screen in my hands.

A waitress leaned in, voice low with awkward restraint. "Ma'am, please don't play inappropriate videos in the restaurant..."

I looked up blankly, the pain spilling into my voice. "The man in that video... is my husband."

The room fell silent.

Even the disdain on the waitress's face softened into something closer to pity.

She had clearly noticed how utterly different the woman in the video looked from me.

I forced myself to ignore the stares and lowered my gaze back to the screen.

The video kept playing.

A stranger straddled my husband, her soft, broken moans spilling out in fragments.

Just as I froze, another message popped up. "Hello, I'm Vanessa Whitmore. You've heard of me, haven't you?"

That name-Vanessa-was far too familiar.

She was the woman Julian had never been able to forget.

"In all these years, has he ever touched you? With your condition, what exactly makes you think you can keep a man?"

I stared at Julian's face on the screen.

His head tilted back, eyes closed, his hand gripping the woman's waist, completely lost in it.

I had never seen that expression on him before.

In four years of marriage, even holding me had felt like an obligation to him. Most nights, he didn't even bother coming home.

Even our fourth anniversary-the one we had planned-ended with me waiting alone from noon until well past midnight.

I used to believe that if I stayed long enough, he would eventually fall in love with me.

Now I knew better. It had all been nothing more than a foolish illusion.

It felt like something heavy was crushing my chest, stealing the air from my lungs.

Tears spilled uncontrollably as I gripped the blanket over my legs, my knuckles tightening until the blood drained from them.

I didn't know how long I had been sitting there until a waitress finally came over to tell me the restaurant was closing. The last sliver of hope inside me collapsed completely.

It was already past midnight, and getting a cab was nearly impossible. I had no choice but to make my own way home.

I pushed my wheelchair forward inch by inch, struggling along the quiet streets.

The restaurant wasn't even that far from my place, yet it still took me nearly five hours to get back.

By the time I arrived, daylight had already broken.

And my husband was nowhere to be found.

A hollow laugh slipped from my lips as I looked down at my unresponsive legs.

"Of course," I murmured. "Someone like me... why would Julian ever love me?"

Just then, a sharp ringtone cut through the silence.

My hands ached from pushing the wheelchair for so long, but I forced myself to answer.

"Hello, Miss Ashford," a polite voice said. "You have a gynecological follow-up appointment scheduled for 9 a.m. today. Please make sure to arrive on time."

The sunlight outside had already grown harsh. I froze for a moment before the memory came back to me.

After all these years of marriage, Julian had never touched me. Even now, I was still a virgin.

But when I thought about the way my body had been reacting lately, a flush of shame crept in as I instinctively pressed my legs together.

I couldn't even stand. I had never experienced anything like that before. So why... were those urges inside me so intense?

The private hospital offered excellent service, even arranging transportation for patients.

Sitting in my wheelchair, I took a slow, steady breath as I looked at the door to the consultation room.

But the moment I saw what was inside, I froze again.

"A male doctor?"

The words slipped out before I could stop them. Panic surged, and I quickly backed out of the room, glancing at the doorplate to make sure I hadn't made a mistake.

"You're in the right place, Miss Ashford." A low, magnetic voice came from behind me.

I turned sharply.

The man standing there wore a white coat. He was young, strikingly handsome, his sharp gaze fixed on me. But there was no ID badge on his chest.

My grip tightened around the handles of my wheelchair as a wave of embarrassment rose inside me. "I remember booking an appointment with Dr. Claire Linford," I said, forcing my voice to stay steady. "She's a female doctor."

"She's unavailable today," he replied calmly. "I'm covering all of her appointments."

I opened my mouth to protest, but before I could say anything, he had already turned and walked to the door.

The consultation room door shut behind him.

It wasn't loud, but it sent an inexplicable tension through me.

I looked up instinctively.

Damian Sterling had already rolled up his sleeves, revealing strong, well-defined forearms. He pulled out a pair of medical gloves and slipped them on with practiced ease.

"Take off your clothes."

I froze. Lowering my gaze to the dress I was wearing, my fingers tightened unconsciously around the fabric over my knees.

Maybe it was because that video from last night hadn't left my mind. From the moment I stepped into the room, something in my body had felt... off.

A faint, restless sensation spread from deep in my lower abdomen.

I bit my lip, my voice trembling despite myself. "All of it?"

Damian lifted his gaze to me.

His eyes lingered on my face for a second before drifting downward, as if assessing something.

The way he looked at me so carefully made heat rush straight to my ears.

"It's standard procedure," he said evenly, without a trace of extra emotion.

I stayed silent for two seconds, then took a deep breath. Slowly, I lifted the hem of my dress and removed everything.

I didn't dare look at him. I closed my eyes instead, telling myself it would be over soon.

The next second, cold instruments and gloved fingers brushed against the most sensitive part of me. My legs snapped shut instinctively.

His fingers seemed to get caught for a brief moment, pausing there.

"Relax." His voice dropped lower, his warm breath brushing against my ear.

I tried to suppress the sound rising in my throat, but my body refused to cooperate.

A soft sound slipped out anyway, and my back arched involuntarily.

He lifted his head, one brow arching slightly. "Miss Ashford... why are you already this wet?"

My mind went blank as I felt his fingers move against me, precise and controlled.

The intensity made my body tremble. My voice came out hoarse. "I... I don't know."

I hastily tucked my hair behind my ear, pretending to fix a stray strand, trying to hide the heat burning there.

But Damian didn't stop.

With his head lowered, he seemed completely oblivious to my flustered state. His movements remained steady, focused-like this was nothing more than a routine examination.

And somehow, that made it even more humiliating.

The room was unnaturally quiet. I thought I heard his breathing grow slightly heavier than before.

That realization sent my thoughts into disarray.

I glanced at him, my gaze slipping downward before I could stop it. The next second, I froze.

The line of his trousers had shifted, the fabric drawn into a subtle curve.

I went still.

Was I imagining it?

Or... had he reacted too?

A strange, unfamiliar sensation shot down my spine. I quickly looked away, but the feeling inside me had already slipped beyond my control.

I had almost never been touched like this.

Not even by the man who was supposed to be my husband.

On our wedding night, he had only said my health wasn't good-that the doctor had advised restraint. After that, every time I found the courage to get closer, he always had a reason to leave.

Bit by bit, I began to doubt myself... to resent those unspoken desires I couldn't get rid of.

But the more I suppressed it, the stronger it seemed to grow. Now, even during something as ordinary as a medical exam, my own sensitivity felt unfamiliar-almost frightening.

The doctor's movements continued.

Each subtle shift in pressure sent my breathing further out of rhythm. I tried to hold it in, but my body had already betrayed me.

The sensation built slowly, steadily. My chest rose and fell, heat spreading downward in a way I didn't recognize-like I was about to cross some invisible line.

And then it hit me. I was about to lose control.

In that instant, my mind went blank. I grabbed his wrist in a panic.

"W-wait..."

He finally stopped. His gaze settled on me, warm and steady.

"Relax, Miss Ashford," he said, his voice low. "You're too tense. I can't continue the examination like this."

Only then did I realize what I had just done. I quickly let go, though my fingers were still trembling.

I lowered my head, not daring to look at him, my nails digging hard into my palm.

Shame threatened to drown me.

He was a doctor.

He saw countless patients every day.

And just now, I had almost... lost myself under his hands.

I bit down hard on my lip, overwhelmed with the urge to run.

His hand pressed against my waist, adjusting my position as he resumed the examination.

A few minutes later, he finally stopped.

He removed his gloves, set the instruments aside, and jotted something down in the medical chart. His tone returned to the detached calm of a doctor.

"Based on the examination, there's nothing seriously wrong."

I hesitated. "Then why...?"

"It's mainly due to long-term imbalance in your sex life, which has affected your hormones," he said bluntly. "Once things return to a normal rhythm, it should gradually improve."

A normal sex life.

Those words struck like a sudden blow.

Four years.

Four years of marriage, and I had never once shared that kind of intimacy with my husband.

While I was still lost in thought, the doctor picked up a tube of ointment and held it out to me. "Maintain a normal level of sexual activity," he said, "and use this topical treatment alongside it."

I reached out to take it, about to say something, but my gaze drifted-unbidden-to his long, clean fingers before I quickly looked away.

"Do you know how to use it?" he asked casually. "Apply it to the vaginal area once a day."

The blunt clinical wording made heat rise to my face again.

"I know," I said quickly, nodding.

I practically fled the consultation room, pushing my wheelchair as fast as I could.

The hallway was cool, yet my entire body felt overheated.

The sensation that had been stirred awake hadn't faded. If anything, it left behind a hollow ache that was impossible to ignore.

I didn't even dare sit up straight. Keeping my head lowered, I forced myself to keep moving, slowly pushing the wheelchair forward.

For a moment, I wanted nothing more than to go home.

To return to that marriage that still looked intact on the surface.

To hold Julian, to prove that what had just happened-that loss of control-had nothing to do with a stranger.

But just as I turned the corner, pushing my wheelchair down the corridor, a familiar name suddenly reached my ears.

"Julian."

My hands froze instantly.

It was Vanessa's voice.

Something slammed hard into my chest. Slowly, I lifted my head.

And then I saw them, standing in the center of the lobby.

My husband stood there, dressed in a neat suit, his expression calm and composed.

Vanessa had her arm looped through his.

She leaned into him, her smile soft, intimate.

Standing side by side, they looked every bit like a couple deeply in love.

I stood there, frozen.

Why were they here... together?

Before I could even process it, Vanessa had already spotted me. "Miss Ashford?" she exclaimed.

Her gaze landed on my face, lingering for a second before slowly drifting downward.

Only then did I realize what I must look like-my face flushed, my breathing uneven, even my fingers still trembling.

Vanessa's smile shifted, turning knowing, almost deliberate. "Where did you just come out of?"

Vanessa stepped forward and stopped in front of me. "Miss Ashford, what are you doing here?"

Her tone was gentle, almost as if she were concerned.

But her eyes stayed fixed on my face.

"Your face is so flushed... anyone who didn't know better might think..." She gave a faint smile, laced with false concern. "Sorry. I shouldn't assume things like that about you.

The moment I heard that, I froze.

Everything that had just happened in the consultation room came rushing back.

I could vividly remember how I had grabbed his wrist... how close I had been to losing control.

A faint, lingering dampness returned, as if my body were betraying me all over again.

My face burned, my breathing still uneven, my chest rising and falling.

Instinctively, I tried to wheel myself away-anywhere I could gather myself again.

But just then, Julian's gaze landed on my face.

His eyes stilled, as if he had suddenly forgotten what he had been saying.

He had never seen me like this before-soft, flushed, like a flower just coming into bloom... something that stirred an instinctive urge to protect, to cherish.

That flicker of distraction lasted only a second, but Vanessa caught it.

The smile on her face stiffened. Then she took a step closer, stopping right in front of me. Her gaze lingered on my face before sliding downward, then slowly lifting again.

She let out a soft laugh. "No wonder."

Her voice was unhurried, as if something had just clicked into place. "No wonder Julian chose you as a substitute back then."

My entire body went rigid.

My fingers tightened around the armrest, the color draining from my knuckles.

She casually brushed her hair back, her tone light.

"Looking at you now... I suppose you do resemble me a little. But... In the end, you can't imitate the real thing."

My breath hitched. The heat inside me faded, replaced by a creeping cold.

Julian frowned. "Vanessa."

His voice lowered slightly, as if cautioning her not to go too far.

But it sounded more like a perfunctory remark than any real attempt to defend me.

Vanessa acted as if she hadn't heard him. She bent down and adjusted the blanket over my legs.

The gesture looked considerate.

But to me, it felt like being publicly reminded of how useless I was.

"Oh!" she suddenly exclaimed, as if something had just occurred to her. Turning to Julian, her tone turned bright and eager. "Julian, you've been married for four years now, right?"

"Mm," Julian replied flatly.

Vanessa's eyes lit up, as if she were genuinely curious. "Then, being so in love, you must already have children, right?"

Children.

That single word struck straight at the place I least wanted anyone to touch.

How could we possibly have children?

He had never even touched me.

We hadn't even shared a real kiss.

The lobby fell into silence.

The smile in Vanessa's eyes grew more obvious. She pressed on. "Why aren't you saying anything?"

She tilted her head slightly. "Don't tell me... you don't have any yet?"

My throat tightened. Before I could speak, Julian spoke first.

"She can't have children." His expression was indifferent, but his words were merciless. "I'm not so desperate that I'd feel desire for a cripple."

I jerked my head up, just in time to catch the flicker of disgust on his face.

Shame poured over me like a bucket of cold water, extinguishing every trace of what I had felt moments ago.

So in his eyes, I was nothing more than someone broken-someone who didn't even deserve to be desired.

Vanessa paused for a moment.

"I see." Her tone was sympathetic, yet laced with unmistakable satisfaction. "Julian, that must have been so hard on you."

Just then, footsteps sounded from the other end of the corridor. The male doctor who had just examined me walked out of the consultation room.

He had only been heading toward the nurses' station, but he happened to hear those words-"I'm not so desperate that I'd feel desire for a cripple."

His steps paused slightly, his gaze settling on me in the center of the lobby.

But I didn't notice him at all. I was staring fixedly at Vanessa.

The shame from the consultation room, the humiliation of being degraded by my husband in public, and the grievances I had buried for years all surged up at once.

I could feel my breathing trembling.

But for some reason, I suddenly didn't want to lower my head anymore.

I looked at Vanessa, my voice unexpectedly calm. "Of course I can't compare to you, Miss Whitmore."

She froze for a moment.

I held her gaze and spoke word by word. "I heard that after you went abroad, you had two daughters."

The smile on her face stiffened slightly.

I didn't stop. My gaze dropped to her abdomen, my tone still steady.

"Today, coming to the hospital... Is it for a third one-with my husband?"

The lobby fell silent in an instant.

The next second, Julian's voice rose sharply. "What nonsense are you talking about!"