I have a limp, a result of an injury I sustained while saving my childhood sweetheart when we were young. Despite being treated differently because of my disability, James Parker, my childhood love, promised to always be good to me. I believed him wholeheartedly. Until one day, I saw a girl corner him against a wall, attempting to kiss him. He turned his head to avoid it. The girl’s eyes reddened. “James, I don’t believe you’re not attracted to me!” James gritted his teeth and then kissed her forcefully. I’ve had a limp since I was a child, but everyone said I was lucky because I had James Parker, my childhood sweetheart who loved me dearly. James was the epitome of youth – handsome, smart, athletically gifted, and popular with girls. His only flaw, according to some, was having a disabled childhood sweetheart – me. Whenever someone said this, James would angrily rebuke them. “Lily’s leg was injured while saving me. I don’t want to hear you talk about her like that.” Each time he said this, he’d pull me into his arms. Listening to his heartbeat, I truly believed he was my prince charming, descending from heaven to save me. But I forgot that not everyone who rides a white horse is a prince. James and I started having problems in our sophomore year of college. It began when I watched a mixed doubles tennis match between him and his underclassman partner, Emma White. They had perfect chemistry and won the gold medal in the college tournament. Their high-five after winning, Emma handing James a towel, and the loving look in her eyes when she gazed at him all made me feel uneasy. But when James hung his gold medal around my neck and invited me to their tennis team’s celebration party, I forced myself to suppress my discomfort. I told myself to trust James. But at the party, when I saw Emma casually picking up James’s drink and about to sip from it, my carefully maintained composure finally cracked. I put my hand between Emma’s mouth and the bottle. “Isn’t this James’s drink? Did you grab the wrong one?” The lively atmosphere suddenly went quiet for a moment before resuming. James’s teammate laughed it off: “Emma must be too excited; she grabbed the wrong drink.” But Emma’s eyes showed no amusement as she put the drink back. The incident was brushed off with laughter, but it left me feeling unsettled. My unease reached its peak as James walked me back to my dorm that night. Because of my leg, James always walked slowly to match my pace. After hesitating, I brought up the incident at dinner. But James interrupted me: “It’s nothing, she probably just grabbed the wrong drink by mistake. Don’t worry about it.” His words caught in my throat, leaving me unable to express my concerns. My heart ached, and I had to force back tears of frustration. James took my hand and kissed it twice, telling me not to worry and insisting that he and Emma were just friends from the tennis team. His sincere gaze made me want to believe him again. I really, really wanted to trust him – if only I hadn’t later seen them kissing in a hidden corner. It was after another tennis match where James and Emma had won. I was looking for James with a water bottle and towel. Strangely, he wasn’t celebrating with his teammates. I noticed Emma was missing too. Pushing down my growing anxiety, I massaged my right leg, which was aching from standing too long, and continued searching. Perhaps my disappointment had reached its limit because when I saw Emma pressing James against a wall, I felt surprisingly numb. Emma’s coquettish voice rang out. “James, stop denying it. You like me.” James had one hand on her shoulder, as if to push her away, while the other clutched his newly won mixed doubles medal. He seemed to sigh. “Don’t do this,” he said. Emma’s voice began to break. “I don’t believe it. You don’t really like that childhood sweetheart of yours. I know you like me.” With that, she tilted her head up to kiss him. I clutched the water bottle tightly, silently praying for James to push her away. But he didn’t. James accepted Emma’s kiss, even lowering his head to deepen it. The medal that should have been mine, that should have been hanging around my neck, was now draped over Emma’s, alongside her own. As they moved passionately, the two medals clinked together, creating a clear, crisp sound. It was hauntingly beautiful. James and I had known each other since we were very young. Back then, he was the leader of our neighborhood kids, and I remember following him around everywhere. One day, while playing on a small hill, he slipped and started to fall. I quickly grabbed him, but being too weak, we both tumbled down the slope. James was fine, but I cushioned his fall with my body, and my right leg exploded in excruciating pain. I passed out from the agony. When I woke up, I was in a hospital bed, surrounded by my parents’ concerned faces and James’s parents’ guilty expressions. My right leg was in a thick cast. The doctor told me that I might never be able to run and jump like other children again. Hearing this devastating news, I felt my world turn gray. I had always loved sports, and the thought of never being able to play normally again was worse than death. But then James pushed through the adults. He wiped away my tears and the gloom from my eyes. With his young, apologetic voice, he said to me, “Don’t be sad, Lily. From now on, I’ll be your legs.” He promised to take care of me until I no longer needed him, which helped ease my parents’ anger. James was indeed a sports prodigy. He excelled on the field, winning countless awards from childhood through adolescence. I could only sit in the stands, watching him triumphantly receive his prizes. Although I knew the accident wasn’t his fault, I couldn’t help but wonder: if I hadn’t saved him that day, would I be the one winning awards now? But I would shake off these thoughts because James would always hang his heavy medals around my neck. His neck glistening with sweat, his breath carrying the vibrant energy of youth, he would look at me with bright, moist eyes and say something that went straight to my heart. Holding the medal draped over my neck, he’d say proudly, “Lily, from now on, all my medals belong to you too.” I think that’s when he truly entered my heart, like a gentle breeze full of youthful vigor, quickly taking root and blossoming. After that, James began competing frequently, always giving me all his medals. His mother once joked, “People might think our Lily won these awards herself!” James shot her a fierce glare, and his mother, realizing her mistake, fell silent. Because of my leg injury, I had few friends. I spent most of my time quietly reading and waiting for James. James confessed his feelings to me on a summer evening in our sophomore year of high school. He asked me to meet him downstairs in our neighborhood. Amid the summer cicadas’ song, I slowly made my way down, my neck damp with a fine sheen of sweat. Just as I steadied myself, before I could even make out his silhouette, I felt a cool metal medal being placed around my neck. It was the medal from his recent tennis tournament. Tennis was my favorite sport, and James had won this for me. “I already have many medals,” I said slowly, looking at him. James rubbed his nose, seeming a bit nervous. “That’s not what I wanted to talk about.” I gazed at him silently as he struggled to find the words. The early summer breeze was still mild, not yet oppressively hot. A gust of wind tousled my bangs, and just as I was about to brush them aside, James leaned in and gently kissed my forehead. “Lily, let’s be together,” he said, his voice trembling. My eyes widened slowly, my heart pounding so hard I thought it might burst. “Okay,” I heard myself say, trying to sound calm. How strange, I thought. Spring had already passed, yet my heart was in full bloom. Life after getting together with James didn’t seem to change much. Our friends had long assumed we were a couple anyway. Although James was a sports prodigy, he struggled with his academic subjects. Heaven had closed one door for me physically but opened a window intellectually. My grades were excellent. I was genuinely concerned about James’s academic performance because I wanted us to attend the same university. So, after finishing my own studies each day, I spent extra time figuring out how to help James improve his grades. Though the process was challenging, we eventually made it into the same university, thanks in part to his sports credits. I thought we would be happy forever, but I was too naive.
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