The Ring Still Bleeds, But I Don’t Anymore Novel – After life gave me one more chance, I made sure to stay as far away from my husband, the young commander, as possible. When Bradley Harrington left work through the main gate of Evermont Base, I slipped out through the logistics corridor. When he took his first love to Starbright Park to celebrate her birthday, I stayed home alone, tinkering with crafts.
In my previous life, I’d known full well that his heart belonged to Sophie Monroe, yet I still fought for the chance to marry into the Harrington family. But Bradley forgot the promise we made as children, and for the rest of our married life, he treated me with polite detachment—a courteous stranger, nothing more. When I cooked and cleaned for him, he’d say, “No need. You’ll ruin your hands.” When I tried to get close to him, he dodged me like I was poison. “Get some rest,” he’d mutter.
When I finally insisted that he at least act like my husband once a month, he only replied with a clipped, “Whatever you say.” It wasn’t until the night before Bradley’s funeral that his lawyer, Damian Foster, delivered the final blow. “Mrs. Harrington,” he said, “Bradley left all his assets and properties to Ms. Sophie Monroe.” He handed me a thick photo album labeled [My True Love].
That’s when I realized that even after a lifetime together, he had never loved me. When I opened my eyes again, I was back in time—on the day a photo of Bradley kissing Sophie Monroe went viral on Nexus, the biggest social media platform in the Free Confederacy of Stars, with thousands of comments flooding in. This time, I didn’t hesitate. I mailed a divorce agreement straight to Evermont Base.
The day after I sent the papers, Margaret Harrington showed up at my door. The poised, elegant matriarch of the Harrington family couldn’t meet my eyes, her face clouded with guilt. “Eleanor,” she said, taking my hand, her voice soft but urgent, “Bradley’s been a fool. He’s let you down.” She paused, her grip tightening. “But for the sake of the bond between our families—and for the child you’re carrying—I’m begging you, Eleanor. Give him one last chance.
Just seven days.” “If that idiot still doesn’t come around, I’ll personally make sure he signs those papers.” My hand drifted to the small swell of my belly, my thoughts pulling me back to years ago. I’d been just a girl then, traveling with my parents to support the Confederacy’s border defenses during the Frontier Patrol Campaign. A group of insurgents, desperate for leverage, kidnapped several officers’ children.
Bradley and I were among them. In those dark, hopeless days, Bradley stood in front of me, shielding me. “Don’t be scared,” he’d said. “I’ll protect you.” Even when the kidnappers beat him bloody, he never let go of my hand. After our rescue, he lay weak on a stretcher but still reached for me, his voice faint but firm. “We made a promise, remember? I’ll always have your back.” Maybe it was that promise—that stubborn, lingering hope—that made me nod to Margaret.
Not long after she left, Bradley came home. He acted as if the Nexus scandal, which had trended for three days straight, didn’t exist. No explanations, no apologies—just small talk. “The base has been swamped with war drills,” he said. “Haven’t had much time for home.” Then he added, “Didn’t you say you wanted to visit the hot springs resort? I booked us a spot.
How about tonight?” I stayed quiet for a long moment before softly agreeing. “Sure.” The three days at the resort passed in uneasy calm. Bradley kept me company as we admired the scenery, strolled together, and even cooked for me—brewing coffee, massaging my feet. His attentiveness was so tender, so deliberate, that for a fleeting moment, I felt like we were newlyweds again. On the final evening, we soaked in the hot springs.
I wore a red silk robe, and as soon as I settled into the steaming water, Bradley pulled me into his arms. My body tensed instinctively. “Bradley, I’m pregnant.” His lips brushed my ear, his voice low and warm. “I checked with the base doctor. After the first trimester, a little relaxation is good for you.” I didn’t push him away. I let him hold me. The water lapped gently at the edge of the pool—a soft sigh that felt like a cage I couldn’t escape. Hours later, satisfied, he led me out of the springs by the hand. As we left, I let myself hope, just for a moment, that things could change—until we reached the lobby. As we passed through, I glanced at the lively crowd, curious. But Bradley froze mid-step. I followed his gaze. There, just outside the lobby doors, stood Sophie Monroe.
Dressed in sharp professional attire, fresh from an interview assignment, she looked at us with tear-filled eyes, like a wounded kitten. In an instant, Bradley’s hand slipped from mine. He took half a step toward her, then stopped himself, his tall frame rigid with tension. After