The Bride He Left Behind

The next day, Grace packed up every gift Bruce had ever given her. She found a buyer online and arranged to meet at a nearby café to hand them over.

On her way home, she ran into Nova and a few close friends—completely unexpectedly.

The moment Nova saw her, she stormed over and slapped Grace hard across the face.

“You bitch! How dare you show your face in front of me!”

Grace’s ears rang from the blow, and a metallic taste of blood spread through her mouth.

“Nova, isn’t this the homewrecker who seduced your husband? Sluts like her need to be taught a lesson. We’ll hold her down—go on, hit her. Teach her something she’ll never forget.”

Before the ringing in her ears could fade, two of Nova’s friends pinned her down, leaving her helpless.

Another slap landed. Then a third. A fourth…

Grace’s face burned with a stinging heat, blood seeping from her split skin.

She tried to call for help, but as a mute, no words came—only helpless, guttural sounds. The onlookers erupted in laughter, whipping out their phones to record her humiliation.

Nova didn’t stop until she’d landed ninety-nine slaps. Finally, staring down at Grace’s blood-streaked face, she snarled:

“If I ever see you again, it won’t just be slaps. Now get out of my sight!”

By then, Grace was barely conscious, her hearing muffled, Nova’s words indistinct. Suddenly, she felt weightless—dragged from the café and thrown onto the roadside, her body hitting the pavement with a heavy thud.

No one stepped forward to help. They’d heard Nova’s accusations and assumed Grace was the other woman.

Under the scorching sun, the heat seared her skin. She tried to rise, but her strength was gone. Finally, consciousness slipped away, and she collapsed.

When she woke, she was in a hospital bed, the sharp smell of disinfectant making her frown.

She lifted her head to see Bruce sitting beside her. He looked like he’d been keeping vigil for a long time—eyes bloodshot, exhaustion etched into his features. He gripped her hand tightly, his gaze full of anguish.

“I’m sorry, Grace. I couldn’t get there in time to protect you. I know you suffered. But please, don’t hold it against my sister. Besides her depression, she has severe bipolar disorder—her temper isn’t always under control. You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. In the future, try to avoid her, okay?”

A lump formed in Grace’s throat. Her hands trembling, she signed: “Her illness isn’t my fault. Why should I hide after she hurt me? I’m reporting this.”

But as her hand reached for her phone, Bruce knocked it away, his voice tinged with irritation. “My sister is already suffering enough with her condition. Can’t you try to understand her?”

Looking at the man who had just raised his voice at her—for another woman’s sake—Grace felt, for the first time, that he was a stranger. He asked her to understand Nova. But who had ever understood her? Three years ago, she’d given up being the bride for Nova’s sake. For three years, she’d kept out of sight to avoid upsetting Nova. And now, after enduring insults and abuse, was that not enough? How much more did she have to give?

Bruce saw the disappointment in her eyes, and his expression changed. He grasped her shoulders firmly. “Grace, I know these years haven’t been fair to you. What happened today was wrong, and I’ll make it up to you. Tonight, some friends are getting together. I’ll take you—it’ll help you relax.”

Grace wanted to refuse, but Bruce didn’t give her the chance. That evening, he brought her along. What she hadn’t expected was that Nova would be there too.