The Fake Husband
The phone screen glowed, the input box still holding the words waiting for you to come back and eat the pork rib stew I made, before the violent impact sent it flying the next second.
My body slammed into the windshield like a kite with its string cut; a sharp pain pierced my forehead, and warm liquid streamed down my cheek.
I reached out to grab the phone that had fallen onto the passenger seat; my fingertips just touched its cold surface when my consciousness faded into darkness.
When I opened my eyes again, the sharp scent of disinfectant filled my nostrils; an IV line was inserted in my arm, and every movement sent waves of aching through my entire body.
Outside, the sky was dull and gray; a nurse pushed a treatment cart by, her footsteps ringing clearly in the empty corridor.
"Ms. Lincoln, you're awake?" The doctor in the white coat entered, holding the medical records, his expression grave.
"Both your kidneys are severely damaged. The left one is completely necrotic and must be removed. Moreover, both your legs have suffered irreversible nerve damage. From now on, you may... never be able to stand again."
The doctor's words pierced my eardrums like an ice pick. I suddenly glanced down at my legs beneath the blanketthey lay still, completely numb.
Tears struck the white sheets, spreading into a small, damp stain. I opened my mouth but couldn't utter a sound.
As the caregiver wiped my face, I seized the moment to ask about my phone.
She paused, saying that only a shattered phone case was found at the car accident scenethe motherboard inside was badly burnt beyond recognition.
Leo Luke's phone was no longer reachable.
I asked the caregiver to turn on the phone for me; in the pinned chat, the last message was still mine"Pork rib soup"he hadn't had time to reply.
Three days later, a man in a dark blue shirt entered the ward, carrying a thermal flask, his hair perfectly combed.
With red eyes, he gripped my hand, his palm intentionally warm: "Wendy, I'm your husband, Felix Carter. Don't be afraid, I will save you."
I gazed at his facethe unfamiliar features, the strange voicebut when he said the word "husband," his tone was so natural, as if rehearsed a thousand times.
The nurse whispered beside me, "Mr. Carter comes every day to check on your condition. When he heard you needed a kidney donor, he immediately went for kidney matching."
The tissue typing result was a "perfect match."
The day before the surgery, Felix sat by my bedside peeling an apple. The peel was thin and flawless.
He smiled and said, "Wendy, after the surgery, we'll move to a house with a balcony. Haven't you always wanted to plant succulents?"
I looked into the deliberately gentle eyes he wore, a wave of nausea twisting in my stomach, and I could only turn my head to gaze out the window.
Yellow forsythia bloomed in the flowerbed downstairs. Leo Luke used to say this flower resembled the corners of my eyes when I smiled.
The surgery lasted five hours.
When I woke up, Felix Carter was lying in the next ward, a drainage tube inserted in his arm. Reporters crowded outside the ward door, their cameras clicking incessantly.
"Mr. Carter, why are you willing to donate a kidney to your wife?"
"How are you feeling now?"
He leaned weakly against the pillow, giving the camera a shy smile: "As long as Wendy gets better, I am willing to give anything."
The next day, the local news headlines were all about him 'Husband Donates Kidney to Save Wife, A True Tale of Real Love' and 'Modern Model Husband: Felix Carter.'
The day I was discharged, Felix Carter pushed my wheelchair and took me home.
The hallway was packed with neighbors. Madam Clark gripped my hand tightly, repeatedly sighing, "Wendy, you're truly lucky in this life to have met Felix."
Mr. Lee also joined in, "Last time, the water pipe at my house burst, and it was Felix Carter who helped fix it until midnight. Such a good manyou really need to cherish him."
I clenched the wheelchair's armrest tightly, my nails digging into my palm until the sharp pain forced me to speak: "Felix, we're getting a divorce."
The hand pushing the wheelchair suddenly stopped, the smile on his face freezing instantly, like a wax figure caught in ice.
"Wendy, what did you say?" He leaned close to me, his voice low and hushed, "Are you feeling unwell after just being discharged? Think it over carefully."
"I've thought it through very clearly." I looked up at him, my gaze locking onto the panic hidden in his eyes. "I want a divorce."
Those words exploded like a bomb, igniting uproar among our friends and family.
That very day, my mother took the high-speed train and rushed here.
As soon as she walked in, she threw her bag onto the sofa and pointed at me, shouting, "Ungrateful wretch! Felix Carter donated a kidney for you, and you actually want a divorce?"
My father sat nearby, smoking and flicking cigarette butts everywhere.
"Do you know what people say about you outside? They say you're a cruel and terrible woman!"
Felix Carter stood on the balcony, his back to us, his shoulders trembling slightly, as if he were carrying a heavy burden of grievance.
My mother saw him like that and felt even more heartbroken.
She walked over and patted his back: "Felix, don't take it to heart. Wendy just got out of the hospital and her mind isn't clear yet."
He turned around, his eyes rimmed red: "It's not Wendy's fault, it's because I didn't take good care of her."
That look of silent endurance and hurt made everyone take his side.
My cousin sent a message: "You're going too far. Felix is such a good guy."
A former colleague who was close to me also shared the news about Felix Carter's kidney donation on their social feed, captioned: "A good man like this deserves something better."
On the day the car accident compensation arrived, I received a text from the bank notifying me that exactly three million had been credited to my account.
Felix sat across from me watching TV, endlessly flipping through channels with the remote, yet his gaze kept darting toward my phone.
"Wendy," he suddenly said, his voice probing, "there's a three-bedroom apartment listed with excellent lighting, but the down payment is still short by hundreds of thousands..."
I pretended not to understand, picked up my phone, and scrolled through a shopping app: "Oh, I've been wanting to buy a new wheelchair lately. This electric one looks pretty good."
He was interrupted mid-sentence; his face darkened briefly before quickly returning to a smile: "If you like it, just buy it. If the money isn't enough, I'll find a way."
I didn't respond. That very afternoon, I transferred all three million to Yale Shawn.
Yale Shawn was my childhood sweetheart and also Leo Luke's closest friend.
After Leo Luke died, he confided in me that Leo's death wasn't an accidentit was linked to a private hospital.
"Wendy, Felix Carter is probably sent by the Hospital. You must be very careful." From his phone came the sound of wind.
"I will keep this money safe. Once we find the evidence, we will expose them."
I hung up the phone and gazed out at the plane trees beyond the window.
The leaves were already turning yellow. Leo Luke used to always tie my shoelaces beneath the tree, saying I was unsteady walking in high heels.
When Felix found out the money had been transferred, he completely lost control.
He smashed all the glass cups in the living room onto the floor. Shards scattered onto the wheels of my wheelchair, creating a sharp, grating sound.
"Wendy! Who did you transfer the money to? That was our money!" He pointed right at my nose, the tenderness in his eyes gone, replaced only by greed.
"I donated a kidney for you, and yet you gave the money to someone else?"
"That's my compensation money; it has nothing to do with you." I looked at him coldly.
The argument drew the neighbors downstairs and also attracted the media reporters.
A reporter from City TV Station stood at the door holding a microphone: "Ms. Lincoln, Mr. Carter, what happened? We could do a live broadcast and let the netizens judge."
Felix Carter immediately changed his expression, rubbing his reddened eyes: "It's actually nothing. It's just that Wendy just got discharged and is emotionally unstable. I'm afraid she might be hurt."
I watched his act and suddenly laughed, "Alright, go ahead and do the live broadcast. I want everyone to see the real you, this so-called 'model husband.'"
The camera was set up in the corner of the living room, aimed directly at the sofa and the wheelchair.
On the very first day of the live broadcast, the number of online viewers surpassed one hundred thousand.
Felix Carter, wearing a clean white T-shirt, brought me a cup of warm water and thoughtfully added a straw: "Wendy, drink some water first. I'll cook your favorite porridge soon."
The bullet screen from internet users flashed by: "Felix Carter is just so good! Why isn't Wendy Lincoln satisfied yet?"
"Feeling sorry for Felix Carter, marrying such a bad-tempered wife."
"Wendy Lincoln, apologize to Felix Carter right now!"
I took the glass of water, but my hand slipped; warm water spilled all over Felix Carter's T-shirt, the wet stain spreading down from the collar.
"Sorry, my hand slipped." I spoke flatly, without a trace of apology.
Felix Carter's face stiffened for a moment, then he quickly smiled and said, "It's okay, I'll just get changed."
He turned and walked into the bedroom. I clearly saw that before closing the door, he gave me a hard glare.
Over the next few days, I escalated my tormenting of him.
When he fed me, I deliberately turned my head away, causing grains of rice to scatter onto his pants; When he covered me with a blanket, I threw it to the floor, complaining it was too thick and suffocating; when he tried to wipe my face, I flung the towel straight at him.
The condemnation from Internet users grew more intense.
"Does Wendy Lincoln have psychological problems? Felix Carter is like this and she still bullies him!"
"I suggest Felix Carter get a divorce quickly; such a woman isn't worth it!"
"I'm going to dig up Wendy Lincoln's personal information so she knows what happens when she bullies a good person!"
My social media accounts were flooded with vicious attacks; my private messages were filled with hateful curses. Someone even found my address and plastered posters downstairs saying "Wendy Lincoln, get out of this city."
Felix Carter, however, grew increasingly 'restrained.'
Every day, in front of the camera, he would say, "Wendy is just in a bad mood," and he even took it upon himself to wash my dirty clothes and read me encouraging messages from internet userswhich were actually all insults directed at me.
During one live broadcast, he was peeling an apple for me when suddenly his body swayed and he collapsed to the floor, the fruit knife in his hand falling just a few centimeters from my wheelchair.
"Felix!" I called out instinctively, but inside, my heart remained unmoved.
He lay on the ground, his face pale, breathing shallow and rapid, looking utterly fragile.
When the doctor arrived, clutching his stethoscope, he said, "Mr. Carter hasn't recovered well after donating a kidney. On top of that, he's been doing part-time jobs recently. The overexertion caused him to faint."
"Part-time jobs?" I feigned surprise and looked at Felix. "Didnt you stay at home taking care of me every day? How come you were doing part-time jobs now?"
Felix leaned against the sofa, coughing a few times, his eyes filled with a deep sense of grievance.
"I just wanted to earn some money to buy you supplements. I don't want you to suffer because of me."
This sentence completely ignited the sympathy of internet users.
Someone started a "Donate for Felix Carter" campaign, raising more than two hundred thousand in just one hour; some sent Felix health supplements and fruit; others left messages like, "Felix, stay strong, we support you."
I watched the donation amount flicker continuously on the screen, a cold smile curling at the corner of my lips.
Felix discreetly glanced at his phone, a flicker of pride shining in his eyes, quickly hidden once more.
On the tenth day of the live broadcast, Yale Shawn showed up.
He wore faded jeans with frayed cuffs, carrying a bag of rotten appleswrinkled skins dotted with black spots.
"Wendy, I've come to see you." He walked into the living room, naturally sat down beside me, and reached out to brush the dust from my hair, his touch both familiar and intimate.
The bullet screen exploded instantly: "Who is this man? What's his relationship to Wendy Lincoln?"
"No wonder Wendy wants a divorceturns out she's seeing someone else!"
"It's disgusting! Felix Carter donated a kidney to save her, and she's flirting with another man!"
Felix Carter looked at us, his fingers clenched tightly on the sofa armrest, knuckles white: "Wendy, who is he? Have you... known each other for a long time?"
"He is Yale Shawn, the most important person in my life." I looked into Yale Shawn's eyes, filled with worry.
"We grew up together; he knows me better than anyone else."
Yale Shawn held my hand, his palm's warmth familiarit was the same warmth from when he helped me pick cherries as a child.
"Wendy, no matter what happens, I will stay by your side." His voice was soft but clear, captured distinctly by the camera.
Felix Carter's breathing grew more labored. He took a deep breath and looked at Yale Shawn. "Mr. Shawn, I know Wendy lent you three million."
He pulled a hospital payment slip from his pocket and held it up to the camera: "My health has been worsening lately, I need a follow-up check, and we're almost out of money. Can you pay back part of it to me first?"
The comments from internet users grew even more heated: "Yale Shawn, pay back the money soon! Felix Carter is running out of money for treatment!"
"Wendy Lincoln and Yale Shawn are frauds! Cheating Felix Carter's kidney and his money!" "Call the police! Make Yale Shawn return the money!"
"Pay back the money?" I cut him off immediately, raising my voice, "That money was lent to Yale Shawn voluntarily by me. What does that have to do with you? On what basis are you demanding it?"
"Wendy, that's our shared property too!" Felix snapped, standing up to face me.
"I donated a kidney for you, and now I don't even have money for treatment. How can you be so heartless?"
"Money for medical treatment?" I sneered coldly, my eyes filled with scorn, "Can't you do your part-time jobs? Or, you can sell your blood."
This comment utterly enraged the internet users.
"Wendy Lincoln is absolutely cruel! She actually forced Felix Carter to sell his blood!" "A woman like her deserves to rot in hell!"
"I've already called the policeI hope they will make him pay!"
"Yale Shawn, pay back the money immediately, or we'll find you and teach you a lesson!"
The number of viewers in the live streaming room surpassed one million, and the topic "Screw Wendy Lincoln" shot to number one on the trending list, tagged with an explosive label.
Felix Carter watched the bullet screen, a faint, barely noticeable smile playing at the corner of his mouth.
He quietly picked up his phone, texting someone unknown.
I know, the time has come.
The reporter held a microphone up to me: "Ms. Lincoln, internet users are condemning you. Do you have anything to say in your defense?"
The video camera lens was fixed on my face, its light painfully glaring.
I took a deep breath and slowly spoke into the camera: "Do you really think I'm ungrateful and cruel?"
The living room was quiet, with only the soft whir of the video camera and the pings from the internet users' bullet screen.
"Everything I did was a lie." I looked into the camera, my gaze steady. "Including the trouble I gave Felix Carter and transferring the money to Yale Shawnit was all to protect myself and to uncover the truth."
Felix Carter's face shifted immediately. He rushed to my side, trying to cover my mouth. "Wendy, don't spout nonsense! Have you lost your mind?"
The reporter quickly stepped in. "Mr. Carter, please allow Ms. Lincoln to finish her statement."
"Felix Carter is not my husband," I said deliberately, my voice clear and reaching every internet user, "He's an impostor, sent by the hospital to watch me and cheat me out of my compensation."
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