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After I became someone else's bride, he regretted it Novel Cover

After I became someone else's bride, he regretted it

Eason was Moon Ridge’s celebrated warrior, but to his bride, he was a serial betrayer. When he abandons her on their wedding day for his "cousin" Nancy, it marks his ninety-fifth offense. Unbeknownst to him, she is counting to 101—the number of his proposals—before walking away forever. Activating a summoning feather, she accepts an arranged union with a northern chieftain. Only when she is promised to another does Eason beg on his knees, but her heart is already gone.
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Chapter 3

The moon-cart slowed to a halt before our den, yet Eason made no move to step out.

I frowned at him. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, looking strangely hesitant.

After a moment, he cleared his throat. “There’s this… thing. Nancy’s spirit-dance circle needs a ceremonial battle-sphere for their graduation performance. I thought maybe she could borrow the one we have.”

The battle-sphere.

The one I gave him when the war council nearly expelled him from training.

The one he carried into the final trials that carved his name into clan history.

The one he clutched afterward, promising he’d keep it forever—because it came from me.

Now he wanted to hand it over as a prop for Nancy’s celebration.

He waited for my reaction.

I nodded. “No problem.”

Relief washed over him instantly. He pulled me into a hug—until I turned my face away before he could kiss me.

His smile flickered. Only for a heartbeat. Then he straightened.

“If it’s urgent, why don’t you bring it to her now?”

The light returned to his face like someone had reignited a torch. He grabbed the sphere and practically bounded toward the exit.

“Once Nancy’s graduation is over,” he called back brightly,

“we’ll finally have our mating ceremony. I swear no more delays this time!”

I smiled and said nothing.

Because I knew our wedding would never happen.

As his cart rolled away down the ridge path, I pressed a hand to my belly.

“Little one… forgive me,” I whispered.

“I once vowed to give you a happy life. But it seems I’m going to break that promise. Please don’t hate your mother.”

On the way to the healer’s hall, the moon-cart slowed near the entrance—and that’s when I saw her.

Nancy. Standing outside the maternity wing, arms folded, lips curled.

My breath stilled. My hand flew protectively to my belly.

Then, through the open hallway, I caught a glimpse of him.

Eason.

His stride. His shoulders. I knew them as well as my own heartbeat.

Before I could react, my message crystal pulsed. I opened it—and my world dropped away.

Dozens of rune-recordings.

Dim lighting. Bare skin. His body. Her sounds.

Their faces were out of frame, but it didn’t matter.

I knew the shape of his back, the flex of his muscles, the rhythm of his breathing.

Her whisper of his name between gasps felt like a blade.

It was the kind of intimate recording meant to shame or inflame.

I didn’t blink.

Even though I had long known there was no blood relation between Eason and Nancy—that everything forbidden had already happened—I still felt my heart crack, raw and tender, when it was thrown so nakedly before me.

I wiped my tears quickly.

When I looked up, she was staring directly at me.

Her gaze was sharp, triumphant.

That’s when I knew.

She sent them.

Every recording. Every image.

She wants to replace me as Eason’s mate. Fine. She can have him.

I completed my check-up, walked outside, and descended the steps…

A cart came barreling toward me.

I instinctively stepped back, but before I could move farther, a hard shove sent me forward—straight into the path of the rushing beast.

I slammed onto the cart’s hood before collapsing on the stone pavement.

Pain erupted through my leg like lightning. My body curled protectively around my belly.

But my right leg twisted grotesquely beneath me.

The agony pulsed with every breath—sharp, electric, unbearable.

Then her voice cut through the ringing in my ears.

“Ouch! Ouch! My ankle! Eason, help me!”

I twisted my head.

Nancy stood there like a victor basking in her triumph, pretending to clutch her perfectly fine ankle.

Now I was certain.

She was the one who pushed me.

Moments later, Eason arrived, his eyes darting between us—confused, hesitant.

Nancy burst into tears like a helpless child.

“Eason, that cart almost hit me! I tried to pull Sophia back, but she shoved me toward it! Look—my ankle!”

Eason’s brows knitted as he looked at me.

My shattered leg was hidden beneath my long skirt; he likely didn’t understand why I was on the ground at all.

He merely sighed.

Then he turned—to pick Nancy up in his arms.

As she rose, her foot swung out and struck my shin—directly where the bone had broken.

White-hot pain exploded up my body.

I bit the inside of my cheek until I tasted blood and swallowed every scream.

Inside my mind, I only counted.

One hundred.

Eason… this is it. Let’s never see each other again.

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