The Echo of a Broken Vow

When the earthquake struck, Pierse Jones instinctively shielded me with his body, taking the full brunt of the impact and suffering multiple fractures.

In the hospital room, the girl in the next bed looked at me with envy and said, “Your husband didn’t even care about his own life to save you. He really loves you.”

I forced a smile. “Yeah.”

But just last night, after I had fallen asleep, he slipped into the bathroom, his voice soft and soothing as he spoke to someone else—his little mistress,

“I’m fine, don’t cry. Be good.”

“As long as I think of you, I’m not afraid of anything.”

Pierse and I grew up together, from childhood sweethearts to each other’s first love.

We had been together for ten years, admired by everyone as the perfect couple.

No one knew he had a mistress on the side, a girl who looked just like me when I was eighteen.

I discovered Pierse Jones’ secret in the fifth year of our marriage.

On my way back from a business trip, the bus I was on got into an accident.

Fortunately, I had listened to Pierse and fastened my seatbelt as soon as I got on.

Aside from a minor injury to my calf, I was fine.

In the consultation room, a young girl in the next seat was on the phone, crying to her boyfriend.

"It hurts so much… When can you come pick me up?"

"Okay, I’ll wait for you."

She ended the call, her lips curling into a bright smile, eyes gleaming with joy at whatever sweet words her boyfriend had whispered to her.

Then, her gaze shifted to me, and she spoke with innocent curiosity.

"Miss, you’re hurt too. Why didn’t you call your husband to come get you?"

I paused for a moment. "He’s busy with work and doesn’t have time."

She tilted her head slightly, a hint of amusement tugging at her lips.

"That’s kind of sad."

She was young, and her attempt at showing off was as blatant as a child’s.

I smiled, unfazed. "Yeah, when you're young and in love, it’s like you can’t stand to be apart for even a second."

When Pierse and I were eighteen, we were like that too.

At the graduation banquet after our final exams, he got drunk.

Holding my hand, he proudly announced to everyone,

"As soon as I graduate from college, I’m going to marry Eva Burns. Nothing in this world can tear us apart."

As I left the consultation room, memories of the past lingered in my mind.

My injured leg made me walk slowly.

At the hospital entrance, I hailed a cab and had just gotten in.

A few meters away, a familiar black Bentley suddenly came to a stop.

The door opened, and Pierse stepped out, his expression carrying a hint of urgency.

I froze.

How did he know I was injured?

Just as I was about to lower the window and call out to him, the young girl from the consultation room came running over and threw herself into his arms.

Pierse took a step back, carefully avoiding the bandaged area on her arm before holding her tightly.

Through the car door, their voices reached me, slightly muffled.

"You’re hurt, and you’re still being so reckless."

The girl looked up at him, pouting. "I haven’t seen you for days. Even if I’m injured, I still want a hug."

His voice was filled with helpless affection.

"I really can’t take my eyes off you. Not even for a second."

He said the same words to me once when we were twenty.

That night, after a fight with my mom, I was thrown out of the house.

With nowhere to go, I wandered the streets aimlessly.

When I heard Pierse’s voice, I thought I was imagining things.

"Eva."

I looked up.

He was standing under the moonlight, worn out from travel, his eyes bloodshot.

His gaze fell on the red mark on my cheek, filled with distress.

"From now on, whenever you are back home, I won’t take my eyes off you. Not even for a second."

…

It was raining outside.

When Pierse came back, I was curled up on the couch, hugging my knees.

"Eva, you’re home. Why didn’t you turn on the lights?"

He flicked the switch, and the dark living room was instantly flooded with light.

I stared at him in a daze.

My gaze slowly traced over his face, inch by inch, searching for something—anything—that was different from before.

But there was nothing.

He was exactly the same.