The Deaf Bride Isn't Deaf?

On the way to the hospital, Grayson finally noticed the blood trickling down Violet's cheek. Until now, he had been too busy comforting Ruby after the earlier fight to pay attention.

Once they arrived, he ignored his own bleeding shoulder and insisted the doctor treat her first.

"Our wedding is coming up," he said. "My Violet can't have a single scar on her face."

Then, turning to her, guilt filling his eyes, he signed, "I'm sorry. This was all my fault. I only stepped in because Ruby is my subordinate. Please don't be mad at me, alright?"

Violet said nothing. Instead, she told the doctor to ignore her wound and focus on treating Grayson's shoulder. It didn't matter. She wouldn't be at the wedding anyway. Whether or not she had a scar was meaningless.

Grayson mistook her indifference for concern and looked at her, touched.

The doctor cut away his blood-soaked shirt, exposing the deep gash beneath. Only then did Violet notice the wound overlapped perfectly with an old scar—a circular mark left by a steel rod that had pierced him during the earthquake five years ago. Now, that past injury was gone, erased by fresh pain.

For a brief moment, she felt dazed. Perhaps this was fate's way of telling her that their love was truly a thing of the past.

As they left the hospital, Ruby hugged herself, her voice trembling as she looked at Grayson. "Grayson, can I stay at your place tonight?"

Grayson rarely saw Ruby this vulnerable, and something in him softened. He hesitated, glancing at Violet before cautiously signing to her, "Violet, Ruby is shaken up. Can she stay with us for the night?"

As if afraid she would misunderstand, he quickly added, "I don't mean anything by it. As her boss, I have a responsibility to take care of my employees."

Violet's fingers curled into her palm, nails digging into her skin. Was he really asking for permission to bring another woman into their home?

Then, she laughed at herself. What did it matter? Sooner or later, Ruby would move in after she left. There was no need to argue over something inevitable.

"Do as you like."

Perhaps because she was there, Grayson kept his distance from Ruby the entire drive home. Even when Ruby tried to start a conversation, he silenced her with a glance.

Violet closed her eyes and leaned against the window, unwilling to watch their little performance.

When they arrived, Grayson ignored Ruby's expectant gaze and arranged for her to stay in the guest room on the second floor.

Back in their bedroom, he brought out iodine and bandages, gently tending to Violet's wound.

"Violet, I know you care about me," he signed. "But how could you refuse the doctor's treatment? If this leaves a scar, I'll feel terrible."

After dressing her wound, he pressed a light kiss to her forehead. "I won't let you get hurt again. Today, I acted on impulse when I saw my employee being harassed. I didn't think. After all, someone attacking my employees is the same as trampling on my pride. How could I let that slide? You understand, don't you, Violet?"

If Violet hadn't known the truth about him and Ruby—if she hadn't caught the flicker of possessiveness and rage in his eyes—she might have believed him.

But she said nothing, only signed that she was tired and wanted to rest.

Grayson, as if following a routine, brought her a glass of warm milk and gently patted her back to lull her to sleep.

Deep in the night, a thunderclap jolted Violet awake.

Half-asleep, she instinctively reached out for the warmth beside her, only to grasp empty sheets.

The chill against her fingertips cleared her mind in an instant.

She got up and left the room. The moment she reached the second-floor landing, she heard a woman's soft gasps.

Her steps faltered, the bitter taste of realization settling in her throat.

She moved forward, one slow step at a time, until she reached the guest room door.

It was wide open.

Under the soft glow of the bedside lamp, two naked bodies entwined, their movements intimate and unrestrained.