My husband was driving to pick up his mother to bring her to the city when the accident happened. To protect him, I lost my legs and could never have children again. Instead of gratitude, they grew disgusted with me and had me committed to a mental institution. I wasted away and eventually died. But when I opened my eyes again, I was back on the morning of the accident. This time, I was not getting into that car. “Hurry up, stop dragging your feet! Mum’s waiting for us!” My husband’s face was full of impatience, and I felt a little dazed. I still had my legs. This wasn’t the cold hospital bed of a mental ward. The spring breeze felt warm on my cheeks. It dawned on me—I had been given another chance. I was alive again. I looked down at the bags I was holding and then at my husband, James, smoking in the driver’s seat of his black Ford Focus. I realized this was the morning he was supposed to pick up his mother, Margaret Scott, to move into the city with us. The morning the crash would happen. I placed the gift boxes in the boot of the car. Soon enough, they’d be smashed to bits along with the car. I slowly walked over to the passenger window. “I’m not going. I don’t feel well.” James frowned. “What’s this now? Another one of your moods? Get in the car, stop being difficult!” I stood there, expressionless, staring at him. “What’s the big deal if you don’t go? It’s not like I care. Mum’s the one always talking about you, thinking of you.” A wave of disgust washed over me. I knew she only wanted me around to wait on her and her precious son. When I didn’t respond, James slammed the window shut, leaving me in a cloud of exhaust fumes. I turned and headed back upstairs. Inside, I found the pink teddy bear tin. Sure enough, the bankbook was still there. £16,000, untouched. £8,000 was my wedding savings, and the rest was our joint fund. In the last life, after the crash, James claimed the money had been lost in bad stock investments. He said there was nothing left to pay for my recovery and refused further treatment. He brought me home, neglected me, and let me waste away in bed. But now I knew the truth. He had hidden the money. How cruel. This time, I wouldn’t let them walk all over me. I took the bankbook, went to a few nearby banks, and withdrew all the money. Then I went straight to the jewellers opposite the bank and bought a 200g gold bar and two 100g gold bracelets. I remembered that in six months, gold prices would skyrocket to an all-time high. By then, I would be rotting away in a mental institution, catching bits of news from the radio. As I left the jewellers, my phone rang—a number I didn’t recognise. “Hello, who’s speaking?” “Hello, is this Catherine Thompson? This is Officer Weston from the Sheffield traffic unit. Your husband, James Scott, has been involved in a car accident. He’s unconscious. Are you his next of kin?” “He’s my husband! Is he alright? What happened?” I asked, forcing my voice to sound panicked. “He’s been taken by ambulance to St George’s Hospital. We’ve towed the vehicle to clear the road.” After hanging up, I dropped the fake concern from my face, holding back the excitement bubbling inside me. Just as I expected. When I arrived at the hospital and stood outside the emergency room, I overheard the doctors. “Has anyone reached the next of kin yet? James Scott’s family?” I rushed forward and shouted, “I’m here! I’m his wife!”
I stumbled forward, my face a picture of concern. “How’s James? Doctor, please, you’ve got to save him!” “Mrs Scott, your husband’s been severely injured below the waist, especially his legs.” “There are two options. We can transfer him to the Royal London Hospital, where they can use cutting-edge technology to save his legs. Or we can perform an emergency amputation here to prevent infection and save his life.” So there was another option back then! Why did James choose to have my legs amputated? “What are the risks with the first option?” “The technique is well-established at the Royal London, but it’s expensive. The medical costs could reach several hundred thousand pounds.” Of course, it was about money. My legs weren’t worth more than the cash in James’s eyes. “If we transfer him, our ambulance and best medical staff are ready.” I didn’t need to think about it. Of course, we’d go with amputation. This was the path James chose for me. “Doctor, don’t worry about the money. I’ll do whatever it takes to save my husband.” The doctor nodded. “However, I need to discuss this with my mother-in-law. She controls all the family’s finances.” I gestured to the phone in my hand, which had been ringing non-stop. “Mrs Scott, you must make a decision quickly. Every minute of delay increases the risk to your husband.” I nodded and answered the call. The empty hallway echoed with Margaret Scott’s sharp voice. “Catherine! You’ve got some nerve! I’ve been calling you for ages. What on earth are you up to?!” Her tone was the same as ever—rude and domineering. “It’s nearly noon. Are you two coming back or not? The family’s waiting to help, and James hasn’t checked in!” “Mum, I…” Ever since I married James, calling her “Mum” always gave her a smug satisfaction, as though it cemented her authority as the head of the family. I barely got a word in before she interrupted again. I hurried into the stairwell for some peace. “You’re always on about being busy, but you never earn half of what James does! You should quit that silly florist job and focus on taking care of him properly.” Her usual insults. Soon enough, she’d be the one taking care of her precious son. “Mum!” I yelled into the phone, hitting the record button. “James got into a car accident on the way to pick you up! He’s in hospital!” I made sure to sound convincingly devastated. “What? How could this happen?” I imagined the shock on her face, and it almost made me laugh. “Mum, you need to sell the house in Barnsley. Take the money James has given you over the years.” “Ask the relatives for a loan too. We need at least £100,000 if he’s going to have any chance of treatment in London. Otherwise, he’ll lose his legs.” I let out a few more sobs for effect. “£100,000?! You’re trying to kill me! I don’t have that kind of money. James never gave me anything!” “That’s my life savings! You witch, this is all your fault!” Margaret’s cries filled the phone. “Mum, I’ll mortgage the house for £10,000. You’ll have to find the rest.” Margaret continued wailing about her lack of money. Like her son, she loved herself and her savings more than anything. After all, she’d climbed her way out of poverty thanks to James, her golden goose. No way was she letting go of his hard-earned cash. “Mum, the doctors are waiting. You need to decide now, or it’ll be too late for the amputation.” “Fine, fine! Amputate his legs! Oh, my boy! What will I do now?!” Of course. Better to let her son lose his legs than to part with a penny. I slumped against the wall outside the operating theatre, muttering to myself. “How could they have no money? He’s given them so much every year. Why wouldn’t they use it to save him? Why did he have to lose his legs…” A nurse helped me to my feet, squeezing my hand. “Mrs Scott, you need to stay strong. What’s your decision?” “His mother won’t give us the money. He’ll have to have the amputation. How heartless she is… I can’t lose my husband. Please, do whatever you can to keep him alive.” I sobbed quietly as I signed the consent form. It was exhausting to keep up the act. Afterward, I sat on the hospital floor, resting my head on my knees, waiting. I needed to call Margaret again. It was time for her to come and take care of her precious boy. Just then, my phone rang again.
It was Mum. In the last life, after my legs were amputated, Mum cared for me day and night. She fed me, washed me, looked after me until she wore herself out. She never had time to look after her own health. By the time we realised something was wrong, it was too late—advanced cancer. No matter how much I cried, I couldn’t do anything but watch as Mum wasted away. I had been a disobedient daughter, marrying and moving far away, leaving her to live alone. She gave everything for me, always gentle, always kind. I hesitated to answer the phone, afraid that this might all be just a dream. When I picked up, Mum’s soft voice came through the line. “Kate, are you at the in-laws’ now? Did everything go smoothly? Margaret didn’t give you a hard time, did she?” Tears welled up immediately. Mum was still worried about me, always thinking of me first. In truth, it was Mum who should have been looked after, not me. But I had been too weak to stand up for myself. “No, Mum, everything’s fine,” I said, my voice trembling. “Are you sure? You sound upset.” “Mum, I had a nightmare last night. A horrible dream where you got sick and left me. I was so sad, Mum…” I bit my arm to stop the sobs, trying to keep my voice quiet. “Silly girl, you’re my treasure. I’d never leave you. Not for anything.” She was right. In my last life, when no one was willing to pay for my treatment, Mum sold the house and worked herself to the bone, borrowing money to keep me alive. “I know you love me, Mum. I’ve booked you a health check-up. I’ll come home in a couple of days and take you.” “A health check? There’s no need for that. I’m perfectly fine. Don’t waste your money.” “I’ve already paid. You’ll have to go, or the money will be wasted.” Mum was always so frugal, always putting herself last. “Well, alright then. Are you and James coming back together? I’ll make your favourite egg and onion rolls.” “James is busy with work. Mum, I’ve got another call coming through. I’ll talk to you soon, alright?” The doors of the operating theatre opened again, and two doctors approached. I couldn’t let Mum know about the accident. Otherwise, she’d rush to the hospital to take care of James. “Mrs Scott, your husband’s surgery was a success. He can be transferred to a regular ward now.” “Thank you so much, Doctor.” After settling James in his room, I called Margaret again. “Mum, you need to bring £10,000 from the house and come over right away.” “We still need £10,000 for the amputation.” Margaret’s voice was low and grumbling. “James has given you far more than £10,000 over the years. Hurry up and get here, Mum. We still need to pay for his surgery.” I raised my voice. Looking at James, pale and helpless in the hospital bed, I felt a flicker of pity. But in the last life, he never felt pity for me. This time, the wheel of fate had turned. It was his burden to bear now.
The sun was beginning to set by the time James finally woke up. I rushed to his bedside, tears in my eyes. “Darling, your legs! They’re gone! What will we do now?” James blinked, looking confused. I stayed by his side, playing the dutiful wife, just like he had done in my past life. “Do you need some water, love? Here, let me help you,” I said, dabbing his lips with a damp cotton bud. “James, your surgery and rehabilitation will be expensive. I’ve decided we’ll sell the house to cover the costs.” At the mention of selling the house, James seemed to wake up fully. He turned to me, his face twisted in anger. “Amputation?! Who gave you the right to sign off on that? Are you just waiting for me to die so you can run off with that dog Edward?” After we got married, James slowly revealed his true nature, replacing the charm and gentleness with insults, belittlement, and even violence. Even now, with his legs gone, he couldn’t stop himself. “What does Edward have to do with this? It was your mother who made the decision. She said we couldn’t afford to save your legs.” I showed him the recording of Margaret refusing to pay. As I watched his face contort with rage, I couldn’t help but feel amused. “That’s not possible. I give her money every year! How could she not have enough? It must be at least £50,000 by now.” James muttered to himself. Ever since he left school, he had stopped relying on his family’s money. After graduating from university, he began sending monthly allowances to Margaret. In nearly a decade, it must have added up to £70,000 or more. And in the past couple of years, after becoming a senior engineer, he was poised to earn six figures as a manager. It seemed Margaret had her priorities all wrong. Who would promote a crippled man with no prospects? “Stop thinking about it. The decision’s been made. Let’s focus on your recovery now.” “Ahhhhhh!” James let out a silent scream of frustration. I pressed the nurse call button. The door opened, and it was Margaret, storming in. She grabbed me by the shoulders and started shaking me. “This is all your fault! Why didn’t you protect him? He’s the breadwinner! You’re a worthless cow! Why aren’t you the one who lost their legs?!” Margaret was strong, her hands yanking at my hair and clothes. I punched her twice—once in the chin, then in the nose—sending her crashing to the ground. The shock on her face was priceless. She hadn’t expected her meek daughter-in-law to fight back. “Mum, everything that’s happened to James is because of you!” “He crashed because he was driving to pick you up. And you’re the one who decided to have his legs amputated. Did you forget what happened earlier today?”
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