Revenge On My Feet Chapter 02
The Novels Starts From Here
Chapter 1
On graduation day, my best friend, Renata, worked the screws loose on my prosthetic leg.
I went down the front steps in front of the whole school.
Renata laughed first.
Within seconds, everyone around us was laughing too.
My boyfriend, Desmond, stood next to her with his arms crossed, then gave her shoulder a light pat.
“Alright, Renata. Don’t laugh so hard you hurt yourself.”
Then he looked down at me, still sprawled across the ground.
“See? A little humiliation isn’t the worst thing in the world.”
“Go through this a few more times, and you won’t cry every time someone mentions your leg.”
From that day on, the phrase a few more times was seared into my brain.
Ever since I lost my left leg, the thing Renata said to me most often was,
“I’m doing this for your own good.”
The summer we were fifteen, on a camp hike, she’d nudged me to the front of the group, then steered us all onto a steep, unmarked trail.
My strength ran out, and I finally lost my footing on a slope of loose gravel.
At seventeen, I signed up for the school’s charity 5K.
The morning of the race, she said she was only playing a joke and hid my running prosthetic.
I missed the start entirely, left on the sidelines to watch her collect an award.
Up on the podium, she made a point of mimicking the way I balanced on one leg, then lifted her medal so I’d be sure to see it.
Last month, she baited the neighbor’s golden retriever with snacks until the dog chased me down the street.
She filmed me scrambling up onto a low wall to escape it and posted the clip on Instagram.
The caption read: “If a disabled person can climb a wall, my pet pig definitely can too!”
Time after time, she’d shove me into some humiliating spectacle, only to insist it was for my own good.
And every single time, Desmond sided with her.
Looking up at the two of them from the foot of the stage, I felt something in me finally give out.
People who treated my humiliation as a joke didn’t deserve a place in my life.
…
I crouched on the floor, trying to force the misaligned connector back where it belonged.
No matter how I worked at it, the metal clasp wouldn’t lock. My fingertips went raw, and the hot tears kept coming.
Desmond and Renata stood over me, looking down.
“Wipe your tears,” Desmond said with a frown.
“People will think Renata bullied you.”
“She really is trying to help. If you go through this a few more times, you won’t fall apart over your prosthetic anymore.”
I looked up at him and felt like I was seeing a stranger.
“Making me fall in front of the whole school is helping me?”
“You know I hate it when people stare at my leg.”
“And you still made me the center of attention. You call that helping?”
My voice shook and I couldn’t steady it.
Renata hunched her shoulders, her expression a little awkward.
“Okay, fine, maybe we went too far this time. But I really didn’t mean any harm.”
Desmond jumped in at once.
“She already said she didn’t. What more do you want?”
“You’re always like this—so dramatic. Crying over every little thing.”
“Can’t you just handle your own emotions for once?”
With that, he grabbed my arm and started hauling me toward the auditorium exit.
“If you’re going to throw a tantrum, wait until we’re alone. Everyone’s watching. It’s a bad look.”
His eyes were cold, as if I were the one making a scene.
“Let’s just take the graduation photo. Haven’t you always wanted a picture with me?”
“You won’t look good if you keep making that face.”
“Let’s just take the graduation photo. Haven’t you always wanted a picture with me?”
“You won’t look good if you keep making that face.”
The photographer was already in position, and the students had lined up.
I swallowed the fury rising in my chest and took my place beside Desmond.
Just then, Renata came hurrying over.
Without a second thought, Desmond gave her the spot to his left.
I was shoved to the very edge of the frame.
The flash went off.
The photo printed out a moment later.
I glanced at it. In the picture, I was in the corner again, only half my face visible.
Desmond and Renata stood pressed close together, beaming at the camera.
I stared at the photo, and the tears started falling again.
I looked up at Desmond.
“Desmond, we’re done.”
He froze. The photo in his hand bent under the force of his grip.
“Can you stop being so childish?”
“If you don’t like the picture, we can take another one.”
“You think you can just throw the word ‘breakup’ around whenever you feel like it?”
“Besides, Bellini Capital is sending you a formal offer soon.”
“The hiring manager only agreed to give you a shot because of me.”
“After you break up with me, with your… condition—”
He trailed off.
He didn’t have to say the rest.
I understood.
He took a breath and put on that condescending tone again.
“Enough. Renata and I are both trying to help you. Worst case, we’ll take another picture.”
Every time Renata humiliated me in the name of “helping,” he did this.
He’d promise a movie. A short trip. A photograph.
He took a breath and put on that condescending tone again.
“Enough. Renata and I are both trying to help you. Worst case, we’ll take another picture.”
Every time Renata humiliated me in the name of “helping,” he did this.
He’d promise a movie. A short trip. A photograph.
The compensation he offered never materialized.
I wasn’t going to believe him again.
I wiped my tears away and met his eyes.
“I’m not throwing a tantrum. Desmond, we are over.”
Then I looked at Renata.
“And you, don’t ever contact me again.”
Chapter 2
I pulled out my phone and opened the last email from Dr. Prescott in the Career Development Office.
“Nadia, Whitfield Union in New York was very impressed with your resume.”
“They specifically asked for you. The compensation is excellent, but it’s a five-year contract.”
“If you accept, you won’t be back in Boston for a long time.”
Desmond had no idea.
I had already received a formal offer from the firm in New York.
I had turned it down to stay in the same city as him.
Now that choice seemed utterly meaningless.
I typed a single line into the reply box.
“Dr. Prescott, I’ll take it. Can I have three days to prepare?”
He wrote back almost instantly.
“Of course.”
I went back to the dorm to pack.
Something was wrong with the connector bolt on my prosthetic.
It wouldn’t tighten properly, and my leg kept wobbling with every step.
I was carrying a stack of books down the stairs when my foot slipped and I pitched forward.
A hand shot out and caught my arm.
Desmond’s eyes went straight to my left leg.
“What happened? Didn’t you just have this prosthetic serviced at Christmas?”
“Didn’t we agree? I’ll help you move. You go back and rest.”
The sound of his voice made my eyes sting.
When I first started college, I’d only just gotten my first everyday prosthetic.
I was unsteady on my feet, tripped when I turned, and kept misjudging the stairs.
Back then, every time I was about to fall, Desmond was there to catch me.
After four years together, reaching out to steady me had become almost an instinct for him.
After four years together, reaching out to steady me had become almost an instinct for him.
But he was also the one who stood by, over and over, while Renata pushed me into harm’s way.
I hated this part of myself.
I’d already given up on him, and yet in moments like this the tears still came.
I pushed him away, grabbed the stair railing to steady myself, and went for my suitcase.
“I can do it myself. I don’t need you.”
He smiled and reached for my luggage.
“Why are you trying to act tough with me?”
“It’s fine. I know you only said we were breaking up because you were angry. Go get some rest.”
I looked at him, one last stubborn flicker of hope still alive in my chest.
“Desmond, if I left, would you come find me?”
Just then, Renata’s voice drifted down from upstairs.
“Desmond, are you coming?”
“I have so much stuff up here. I just tripped over a box.”
The words were barely out of her mouth before Desmond dropped the box in his hands and sprinted up the stairs.
The whole stack of books crashed down onto my foot.
My right ankle swelled almost at once.
I heard a sharp crack from the carbon fiber of my left leg.
Desmond didn’t even glance back. He only called over his shoulder,
“Renata fell! I’m going to check on her. I’ll be right back down for you!”
I sat on the floor a long while, waiting for the pain to ease, then used the railing to slowly haul myself upright.
Dragging my luggage behind me, I left the dorm building.
I walked out through the school gates and into the bright sun.
A few minutes later, Desmond’s BMW X5 pulled up in front of me.
His tone was edged with irritation.
“I told you to wait downstairs for a minute. What is this, a disappearing act?”
“I told you to wait downstairs for a minute. What is this, a disappearing act?”
“Get in.”
I hugged my luggage tighter and looked around.
The street outside the school was gridlocked; I wasn’t going to get a ride any time soon.
Renata sat in the passenger seat eating an ice cream, with no intention of moving.
I walked to the back door and opened it.
The entire back seat was crammed with Renata’s suitcases and shopping bags.
Renata turned to look at me, as if she’d only just remembered I existed.
“Oh, I have too much stuff. Why don’t you take the front? I’ll get in the back.”
Desmond immediately pressed his hand down on hers as she reached for her seatbelt.
“Don’t bother.”
“This car has a third row. She can sit back there.”
Then he looked at me, his tone casual.
“The third row is a little cramped.”
“But Renata was out in the sun for a long time just now. I don’t want her squeezed.”
“You have a prosthetic. You can handle it for the drive.”
Standing there on the curb, I actually laughed out loud.
He’d bought this car with the first money he earned from his junior-year internship.
The day he got it, he’d brought me out to see it and talked about it for what felt like hours.
He pointed to the passenger seat and said,
“There’s more space here. You’ll be more comfortable.”
“Sometimes your prosthetic rubs your leg raw. I don’t want you hurting.”
“Nadia, this seat will always be yours.”
Now that seat belonged to Renata.
And I was supposed to fold myself into the back row.
“Forget it,” I said. “You two go on. I’ll figure it out.”
I shut the door and turned away.