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You Called Me A Cripple: He Called Me His Wife

Chapter 3 Humiliated In The Open

Word Count: 849    |    Released on: 26/03/2026

opped in front of me. "Miss As

e, almost as if sh

stayed fixe

ight think..." She gave a faint smile, laced with false con

I heard tha

appened in the consultatio

ad grabbed his wrist... how clos

returned, as if my body were

hing still uneven, my ch

heel myself away-anywhere I

ulian's gaze lan

e had suddenly forgotten

like a flower just coming into bloom... something tha

ion lasted only a second

er, stopping right in front of me. Her gaze lingered on my

a soft laugh

had just clicked into place. "No wonder J

body wen

d the armrest, the color d

hed her hair back

o resemble me a little. But... In the

eat inside me faded, rep

rowned.

htly, as if cautioning

perfunctory remark than any

heard him. She bent down and ad

e looked c

being publicly reminde

red to her. Turning to Julian, her tone turned bright and ea

ian repli

nuinely curious. "Then, being so in love

ldr

raight at the place I leas

possibly ha

er even to

ven shared

fell int

more obvious. She pressed on. "

htly. "Don't tell me...

Before I could speak,

ifferent, but his words were merciless. "I'm not

in time to catch the flick

f cold water, extinguishing every tr

than someone broken-someone who d

aused for

aced with unmistakable satisfaction. "Ju

of the corridor. The male doctor who had just

on, but he happened to hear those words-"I'm not

his gaze settling on me i

m at all. I was starin

of being degraded by my husband in public, and the gri

my breathin

suddenly didn't want to

xpectedly calm. "Of course I can'

e for a

word. "I heard that after you we

er face stiffe

dropped to her abdomen,

spital... Is it for a th

ll silent in

ice rose sharply. "What nons

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You Called Me A Cripple: He Called Me His Wife
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?"”