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.*
