I'd been married to Toby for three years, and we were living a happy life.

I worked as a consultant in a clothing store, and he had a stable job in finance. It's not like we were rolling in money. We had enough to live comfortably.

Most nights, Toby came home exhausted. He didn't even have time to ask me how my day went. But honestly, I never complained.

I knew he was working hard for us.

One evening, as we sat on the couch, I held his hand gently.

"I can't wait until we have our own place," I murmured.

"Yeah," he sighed. "I just need a little more time to save up. You know how expensive houses are right now."

"I know." I smiled. "But when we finally get it, I want a big kitchen. And a backyard."

"For a dog?" he teased.

"For a baby," I corrected with a grin.

His expression softened, and he kissed my forehead. "We'll get there."

I believed him.

When he left for a work trip that Friday, I didn't think much of it. His job required travel, and I had grown used to it.

I figured I'd use the weekend to deep clean the apartment.

Little did I know it was not the right decision.

I was dusting the top shelf of the hallway closet when the ladder wobbled beneath me.

For a split second, I was weightless. And then I was falling.

The impact was instant. A sharp, searing pain shot through my right leg, unlike anything I'd ever felt before. I gasped and my vision started blurring as I struggled to move.

Gritting my teeth, I reached for my phone, barely managing to swipe the screen. My fingers trembled as I dialed 911.

Minutes later, the paramedics arrived. The pain was unbearable as they lifted me onto the stretcher. I could barely keep my eyes open as they wheeled me into the ambulance.

At the hospital, the X-ray confirmed what I already suspected. I had broken my leg.

"You'll need to stay here for a few days," the doctor informed me after wrapping my leg in a cast. "We need to monitor the swelling before we can send you home."

The moment he left the room, I grabbed my phone and called Toby.