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My Deathbed Wish: His True Love Novel Cover

My Deathbed Wish: His True Love

9.4 / 10.0
On my deathbed, my husband of ten years held my hand. He didn't pray for my soul, but for a next life where he could finally be with his true love, Bianca, free from me. A single tear fell as I died. And then, I woke up. I was twenty-five again, back on the day I found him after he' d been missing for five years with amnesia. Last time, I forced his memories to return. It worked, but it drove Bianca to suicide, and he spent the rest of our lives resenting me for it. His care for me as I slowly died from ALS was his penance, not his love. My love had been his cage. So this time, when his father called to say he was found, I didn' t rush to the hospital. I walked into his parents' office, slid my terminal ALS diagnosis across the table, and broke our engagement. "He has a new life," I said. "I won't be his burden." This time, I would grant his wish.

My Deathbed Wish: His True Love Chapter 1

On my deathbed, my husband of ten years held my hand. He didn't pray for my soul, but for a next life where he could finally be with his true love, Bianca, free from me.

A single tear fell as I died. And then, I woke up.

I was twenty-five again, back on the day I found him after he' d been missing for five years with amnesia. Last time, I forced his memories to return. It worked, but it drove Bianca to suicide, and he spent the rest of our lives resenting me for it. His care for me as I slowly died from ALS was his penance, not his love.

My love had been his cage.

So this time, when his father called to say he was found, I didn' t rush to the hospital. I walked into his parents' office, slid my terminal ALS diagnosis across the table, and broke our engagement.

"He has a new life," I said. "I won't be his burden."

This time, I would grant his wish.

Chapter 1

Grace's POV:

Jack Day and I were supposed to have the perfect life, but we spent a lifetime steeped in resentment. He resented me for forcing his memories to return after an accident, an act he believed drove his new love, Bianca, to suicide. I resented him for shattering his promise of forever the moment he lost his memory. After ten years of a marriage as cold as a tomb, I was diagnosed with ALS. For seven years, he cared for me with a meticulousness born of guilt, not love. On my deathbed, he held my hand, his voice a ghost of the one I once loved, and whispered his final wish. He prayed for a next life, one where he and Bianca could finally be together, free from me. A single tear escaped my eye as I drew my last breath. My love had been his cage.

And then, I woke up.

The suffocating smell of antiseptic, the rhythmic beep of a heart monitor. The world swam back into focus. I was in a hospital room, sunlight streaming through the window, warming my face.

My phone buzzed on the bedside table. A message from Edwardo Day, Jack' s father.

"Grace, we found him. He' s in a small town hospital three hundred miles north. He' s safe."

My breath hitched. This was the day. The day I found Jack, five years after he' d gone missing and been presumed dead. The day my first life' s tragedy truly began.

Last time, I had sobbed with relief, my hands shaking so badly I could barely type my reply. I had rushed to that hospital, my heart a frantic drum against my ribs, ready to bring my love home.

This time, a chilling calm settled over me.

The final image from my previous life was seared into my mind: Jack' s face, etched with a mixture of grief and relief as I died, finally freeing him. His wish for a life with Bianca.

As you wish, Jack. The thought was a bitter acid in my throat. This time, I would grant it.

I didn' t reply to Mr. Day. Instead, I pressed the call button for the nurse.

"I' d like to request a full neurological workup," I said, my voice steady, betraying none of the turmoil inside me. "Specifically, I want to be screened for Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis."

The nurse looked at me, confused. "ALS? Miss Daniels, you' re only twenty-five. Is there a family history?"

"Just a feeling," I said, my smile not reaching my eyes.

The tests confirmed my worst fears, the same fears that had been realized a decade later in my past life. A latent diagnosis. A ticking time bomb in my own cells.

Armed with the damning report, I walked into the Day family' s corporate headquarters. Edwardo and Henrietta Day, the couple who had been more like parents to me than my own, rushed to greet me, their faces a mixture of joy and concern.

"Grace! You heard the news! It' s a miracle!" Henrietta cried, pulling me into a hug.

"We' ll get him the best doctors, Grace. We' ll get his memory back," Edwardo added, his voice firm with resolve.

I gently extracted myself from Henrietta' s embrace. I slid a folder across the polished mahogany table. It contained two things. The first was a series of photos, grainy, taken by the private investigator I' d hired. They showed Jack, alive and well, his arm wrapped protectively around a pretty, dark-haired waitress outside a small diner. He was smiling at her with a tenderness I hadn't seen in years, not even in my memories of our life before he disappeared.

The second was my medical report.

"I' m breaking our engagement," I announced, my voice flat.

Their smiles vanished.

"Grace, what are you talking about?" Edwardo' s voice was sharp. "This is just a temporary setback. He' s had an injury. He' ll remember you."

"It doesn' t matter if he remembers me," I said, pushing the photos toward them. "He has a new life now. A new love. Look at him. He' s happy."

Henrietta' s eyes filled with tears. "But you two… since you were children…"

"And look at this," I said, tapping the medical report. "ALS. The doctors say I might have ten, maybe fifteen good years. After that…" I let the sentence hang in the air, a specter of wheelchairs and feeding tubes. "I won' t be a burden to him. I won' t do that to Jack."

This was my masterstroke, the selfless excuse that would sever me from them completely. In my first life, I had stormed into that small town, blinded by love and possession. I' d found Jack living in a tiny apartment above a garage with Bianca Bender. He didn' t recognize me, his eyes cold and distant. Bianca, clinging to his arm, had looked at me with open hostility.

I couldn't accept it. I had dragged Jack back to the city, convinced our shared history, our home, would be the key. When it wasn' t, I arranged for the most aggressive form of memory recall therapy available. It worked. His memories came rushing back, a tidal wave of a life he' d forgotten.

And in that tidal wave, Bianca was drowned.

Faced with the reality that Jack was the heir to a corporate dynasty and had a fiancée he' d loved his whole life, she had walked into the ocean.

Jack never forgave me. Our marriage was his penance. His care for me in my final years was his duty. Not his love.

Now, standing before his parents, I held back the tears that threatened to fall. I would not make the same mistake. I would not cage him again.

"We can' t just let you go, Grace," Edwardo pleaded, his composure cracking. "You' re family."

"And I always will be," I said, my voice softening. "But not as his fiancée. Not as his future wife. From now on, I' m just his sister."

I left before they could argue further. This time, I didn't drive the three hundred miles in a frantic haze. I went with a clear, painful purpose.

I found Bianca at the diner, just as the P.I.' s photos had shown. She was wiping down a table, her movements weary. When she saw me, a flicker of panic crossed her face. She knew who I was. In my first life, she had seen my picture in Jack' s wallet-the one photo he couldn' t bring himself to throw away, even with no memory of the girl in it.

"What do you want?" she asked, her chin jutting out defensively.

Jack emerged from the kitchen, wiping his hands on an apron. His eyes, the same deep blue I had dreamed of for five years, landed on me. There was no recognition. Only a cold, guarded curiosity. He moved to stand slightly in front of Bianca, a protective shield.

That simple movement was the final confirmation. My heart, already broken, fractured into a million more pieces.

"Bianca," I said, my voice surprisingly even. "I believe you know who I am."

Her face paled. "I… I don' t know what you' re talking about."

"There' s no need to pretend," I said gently. "I' m not here to cause trouble. In fact, I' m here to take you both home."

They stared at me, stunned into silence.

"Jack' s parents… Mr. and Mrs. Day… they know about you, Bianca. They' ve accepted your relationship. They want to meet the woman who saved their son and has made him so happy."

The lie flowed from my lips, smooth as silk.

Bianca' s eyes widened, a mixture of disbelief and dawning hope. "They… they do?"

"Yes," I smiled, a perfect, brittle smile. "The engagement is off. I have my own life to live. Jack has his. I' m just here as his sister, to bring him and the woman he loves back to his family."

Jack' s guarded expression softened slightly. He looked from me to Bianca, whose entire demeanor had changed. The defensive hostility was gone, replaced by a dizzying, frantic excitement.

"Jack, did you hear that? We can go! Together!" She threw her arms around his neck.

He looked over her shoulder at me, a hint of apology in his eyes. "I' m sorry. For… whatever happened between us before."

I remembered him saying those exact words in our previous life, after he regained his memory and the full weight of his cruelty settled upon him. Back then, they were filled with anguish. Now, they were just polite words to a stranger.

A stranger he used to promise the moon and stars to.

"There' s nothing to be sorry for," I said, my voice a whisper. "You have a new life. And I have mine."

I drove them back to the Day family estate, the sprawling mansion that was once supposed to be our home. As we pulled up the long, winding driveway, I looked at Jack in the rearview mirror. He was looking at Bianca, his gaze full of a love that was no longer mine.

To the staff, to his parents, to the world, I introduced myself with a cheerful wave.

"Don' t you all remember?" I said with a laugh that felt like swallowing glass. "Jack always promised he' d find a nice girl for his older sister. Looks like he finally delivered."

Jack, caught off guard, played along. "That' s right, sis. Hope you like her."

And with that one word, "sis," my new role was cemented. I was no longer his love, his fiancée, his destiny. I was an accessory. A footnote in the love story he was now living with another woman.

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My Deathbed Wish: His True Love of Contents

Ch. 1 Ch. 2 Ch. 3 Ch. 4
Ch. 5
Ch. 6
Ch. 7
Ch. 8
Ch. 9
Ch. 10
Ch. 11
all

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