Fluoxetine

Maggie Johnson took pains to steer her wheelchair to the bedroom door with a gift in her hand. It was a mug she made by herself. In her mind, a DIY gift was the best, and the mug represented her sincerity.

It was Kevin Brown's birthday today, and she prepared a surprise for him.

He worked so hard every day and should still be asleep now. She wanted to see him in sleep. It had been half a month since she saw him last time.

When she reached the bedroom door, a woman's voice suddenly came out, "Kevin, are you really going to marry Maggie? She only has one leg left..."

Stunned, Maggie saw through a crevice that her fiancé, Kevin, and her stepsister, Tami Johnson cuddling each other on the bed...

"Yes, of course. Only through marriage would she give me the ring passed down from her mother." Sneered Kevin.

"Well, could you divorce her after getting what you want?" Tami looked up at him expectantly.

Kevin sneered, "Rather than a divorced wife, I only have a dead wife."

Tami giggled, "You are bad."

"Don't you like it?" He asked in a hoarse voice.

"No..." There was another round of passion.

Crack.

The mug slipped from Maggie's hand and smashed on the floor. In a fluster, she steered the wheelchair, but it was stuck and wouldn't move.

"Who's there?" In the room, Kevin asked suddenly, jumped off the bed, wrapped a towel around his lower body, ran out, and stiffened at the sight of Maggie.