The Bride He Left Behind
At Grace’s wedding, Bruce’s sister spiraled into a depressive episode and threatened to take her own life.
To calm her, Bruce slipped Grace’s wedding ring onto his sister’s finger—replacing the bride in that moment.
Later, his eyes rimmed red, he pleaded with Grace.
“She’s my sister. I didn’t have a choice. But I swear I won’t touch her. Once she’s better, I’ll divorce her and marry you. Just wait for me a little longer. Please, Grace?”
Seeing his pain, Grace agreed to wait.
Three years passed. No word of a divorce came. Then she spotted him at the prenatal clinic.
…
Grace stood frozen, her eyes fixed on the man near the entrance. Emotions churned inside her.
He was bundled up, only his eyes visible. Yet she could still make out the crimson teardrop mole at the corner of his eye.
A familiar face rose in her memory—someone with the same mark. In their most intimate moments, he would whisper, *Kiss it for me.*
Just then, the clinic door swung open. Nova walked out, beaming.
“Bruce, we’re having a baby. The doctor says it’s already six weeks.”
The man lowered his mask, revealing his face. His tone softened.
“Then follow the treatment plan carefully. We can’t let your condition affect our child.”
Grace stared. That face matched the one in her memory perfectly. A cold dread seeped into her bones, leaving one thought echoing:
*Bruce broke his promise.*
Suddenly, Bruce seemed to sense something. He turned and looked in her direction, but the crowd blocked his view.
“What are you looking at?” Nova followed his gaze.
“Nothing.”
Bruce shook his head and took Nova’s hand.
“Let’s go home. Mom and Dad will be thrilled.”
From behind a nearby pillar, Grace watched them leave. Tears traced down her cheeks without permission.
Memories flashed through her mind like a slideshow.
Eight years ago, she had left for university. The moment she stepped off the train, her backpack was stolen—with all her money and her phone inside.
Stranded and lost in an unfamiliar city, she cried until her eyes were red and swollen.
That was when Bruce appeared. *Tears won’t fix this*, he told her. He took her to review security footage and helped recover her things.
Before leaving, he teased, “I just saved the day. Not even a thank you?”
Grace’s face flushed. Awkwardly, she signed her thanks.
Bruce didn’t understand sign language, but he waited patiently. Then he chuckled, a hint of resignation in his voice.
“So you’re a little mute? Adorable. Consider your thanks received.”
They met again soon after on campus. Grace learned Bruce was a senior, one year ahead.
The attraction was immediate. Before long, he confessed.
Under a plane tree, the young man—cheeks faintly pink—told her he liked her.
Grace, feeling the same, blushed fiercely. Flustered, she signed back, certain he wouldn’t understand. To her surprise, he leaned down and brushed a feather-light kiss on her lips, then smiled.
“I can tell. You like me too.”
Their sweet campus romance began. They married just one month after graduation.
But on that day, Grace learned Bruce’s sister, Nova, was in love with him. Heartbroken, Nova’s depression surged, and she tried to take her life at the wedding.
Bruce had been adopted by the family—his name never added to the household register. To protect their daughter, Billy and Helen pressured Bruce to marry Nova. Torn between his true love and the family who raised him, Bruce made his choice.
He chose to abandon Grace.
Overnight, Grace became the laughingstock of Capital City. Yet that same night, Bruce found her, eyes red-rimmed.
He’d struck a deal with his family: the marriage to Nova would last only three years. Once the term was up, he would divorce her. During those three years, they could not force him to consummate the marriage.
Only a night had passed, but strands of gray already touched Bruce’s hair. Seeing the torment in his eyes, Grace’s heart softened. She agreed.
Now, with the three-year mark nearing, Bruce had broken his vow.
Not only had he been intimate with Nova—they were expecting a child.
However much it hurt, Grace knew she had to keep her own promise to Bruce.
She took out her phone and sent a message to a saved number.
“Susan, about your offer to join the design team—is it still open? If so, I’d like to accept.”
The reply came, delighted.
“Of course! You’re a once-in-a-century talent. Our doors are always open. When can you start?”
“I need to get my passport sorted. It might take about two weeks.”
She and Bruce had made a pact: if he ever broke his vow, she would leave him forever.
That night, Grace didn’t sleep. She sat on the living room sofa, waiting for Bruce to come home.
He sent only one text.
"Sweetheart, my parents insisted I have dinner at the family estate tonight. I’ll be back late. Don’t wait up."
After that—silence.
She didn’t need to guess. He was probably at the estate, sharing the joy of becoming a father. She was the last thing on his mind.
But then, the front door opened. Bruce walked in and froze when he saw Grace on the sofa.
"Sweetheart, why are you still up?"
Grace frowned and signed: *Don’t call me that.*
Bruce paused, then walked over and pulled her into a hug, his voice soft and coaxing. "Are you mad I’m late? You know how it is. My sister’s depression... I couldn’t get away until she was asleep. I really didn’t mean to be out this long."
Ever since Bruce married Nova, his routine had been rigid as clockwork. He’d wait until Nova was asleep, then come to Grace. To keep Nova from interrupting them, he’d even started slipping sleeping pills into her nightly milk. And every morning, he’d return to her side.
To ease Grace’s insecurity, he called her whenever he was at the estate, keeping her updated on his every move, assuring her he wasn’t being intimate with Nova.
Two years ago, Nova had drugged him, trying to force him into bed. He’d fought his way out of the estate and stumbled to Grace instead. They spent the entire next day lost in each other.
Unable to handle the rejection, Nova slit her wrists. The bathtub filled with blood. If Billy hadn’t found her in time and rushed her to the hospital, she would have died.
Billy and Helen were furious. They whipped Bruce’s back until it was raw and bleeding. He never cried out.
It broke Grace’s heart. Nova’s depression had nothing to do with him, yet everyone held her life over his head.
Whenever this happened, Bruce would just smile and comfort her instead. "It’s okay, Grace. Just three more years. Then I’m free. We’ll leave this place together and never look back."
Back then, Grace truly believed Bruce would choose her over everything. He’d rather be beaten bloody than give in to Nova.
But hearts change. Sometime, without her noticing, Nova had begun to take up space in his.
She didn’t blame him. She just couldn’t keep living this farce. Pushing him away, she signed: *We should end this.*
Just then, Bruce’s phone rang. He glanced at the screen, his expression turning grim. Without even looking at her hands, he grabbed his phone and headed for the door. "My sister’s awake. I have to go back. Sweetheart, lock up, okay? Don’t open the door for anyone."
With that, he closed the door and left.
Grace stared at the shut door, her eyes welling with a bitter, lonely grief.
Her own phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number.
*You think I don’t know you’re trying to steal my husband, you bitch? Bruce is mine. You’ll never take him from me.*
*You think he still puts you first? Let me tell you something. On your birthday, Bruce wasn’t locked up by my father. He was in my bed.*
Grace’s whole body jolted. Her phone nearly slipped from her hand.
So Bruce had started lying to her three months ago.
On her birthday, he’d promised to spend the night with her. She waited all night. He didn’t show up until noon the next day, claiming Billy had locked him in a storage room for refusing to bathe Nova—that he’d just been let out.
She’d believed him completely. Her heart ached for him, flooded with guilt. If it weren’t for her, he wouldn’t have to suffer so much.
Now it felt like an invisible fist had clenched around her heart, squeezing the air from her lungs.
It took a long time before her trembling hands could type out a reply.
*Don’t worry. I’ll be gone soon.*
