The Wishful Bride

Episode 8: The Prison Called Home

"A house becomes a prison the moment fear replaces love."

***************************************************************************

The front door slammed shut. A moment later, the mansion fell silent. Elaris didn't move. White scraps from the shredded divorce papers littered the marble floor. She looked at them for a long moment.

Seven years of marriage now looked no different from ordinary trash. She picked up one piece and turned it over between her fingers. It held only half of her signature. The next carried part of Damien's name. None of it could be put back together. Damien could tear the papers apart, but he couldn't change her mind.

She clenched her trembling fingers, allowing the scraps to slip back onto the marble.

"I'm still leaving," she whispered to the empty room. "Even if I have to crawl."

A hesitant knock broke the silence.

“E-Excuse me... Madam?” Mrs. Collins stood nervously in the doorway, clutching a tray with both hands, her trembling fingers giving away her anxiety.

“I... brought your lunch.”

Elaris slowly rose to her feet.

"I'm not hungry."

"Sir Damien ordered us not to let you skip your meals."

Elaris laughed bitterly. "So now I eat on command too?"

Mrs. Collins lowered her head. "I'm sorry, Madam."

"Leave it."

Hours passed in agonizing silence. Elaris wandered through the mansion. She tried every way out she could think of. The windows wouldn't budge. Every door was locked. When she reached the front entrance, two guards were already waiting for her.

“Mrs. Sterling,” one said, his voice respectful but firm.

“I want to go outside,” she demanded.

“I'm sorry, Madam.”

“Just for a walk.”

“Our orders remain the same.”

“My husband isn't even here.”

“Our orders remain the same.” Neither guard looked at her with pity. They were only doing what Damien had ordered. Elaris slowly stepped back as the chilling realization washed over her. The doors weren't what kept her inside. Even if they opened, no one in this house would let her leave.

At exactly seven, every chandelier lit up. Classical music echoed through the mansion. Dinner was served as if nothing had happened that morning, and as though a marriage hadn't just shattered into pieces. Elaris sat alone at the endless dining table, staring at the empty chair across from her. A maid approached quietly and poured wine into a crystal glass.

“I don't drink,” Elaris murmured.

“It was Sir Damien's instruction, Madam.”

She pushed the glass away firmly. “I said no.”

The maid lowered her head in panic. "But... Madam."

Her hands shook so badly she nearly dropped the bottle. It was just another brutal reminder that Damien controlled everything inside these walls.

Later that night, Elaris reached for her phone again, but there was still no signal. When she attempted to connect to the Wi-Fi, the screen flashed with a bold Access Denied prompt. Every way to reach the outside world had disappeared. Another knock echoed through her bedroom, and before she could answer, two housekeepers entered carrying several expensive garment bags.

“Sir Damien asked us to replace your wardrobe, Madam,” one announced.

“My wardrobe?” Confused and alarmed, Elaris hurried toward the walk-in closet. The moment she opened it, her fingers tightened. Everything she owned was gone. In its place were designer dresses, glittering jewelry, and shoes she had never chosen for herself. It was as if someone had decided who she should be from now on.

One of the maids carefully placed a white silk evening gown on the bed.

“Sir Damien wishes for you to wear this tomorrow evening.”

Elaris stared at the expensive white fabric, seeing it for what it truly was. It wasn't a gift. It was another order.

“I won't wear it.” The maid swallowed nervously, backing away.

“Take it away.”

“We can't Madam.”

“Then leave it there.” Elaris snapped. The women bowed before quickly retreating from the room, leaving the dress exactly where it lay.

The dress stayed on the bed, as if Damien had already decided what tomorrow would look like. Unable to bear the suffocating silence, she walked toward the window. Beyond the iron gates stretched a world that continued without her. A pair of headlights swept across the road outside the gates. Someone laughed in the distance. The city was still awake. Only her world had stopped.

Her fingertips rested against the cold glass as she murmured, "If I stay here... I'll disappear."

She stopped. Something wasn't right. She turned toward the walk-in closet and frowned. The door stood slightly open, even though she was certain she had closed it earlier. She stepped closer. Pushing the door open wider, she found everything exactly as the maids had left it: designer dresses hung in perfect rows, luxury handbags rested neatly on illuminated shelves, and diamond jewelry glittered beneath soft lights. Nothing seemed out of place until her eyes landed on the far corner, and she froze.

The white garment bag containing her wedding gown was no longer where she had hidden it. Elaris remembered that she had carefully returned it to the deepest corner of the closet, hiding it behind several unused storage boxes. Now it rested alone in the center of the room, as though someone had deliberately placed it there.

She gripped the edge of the closet door so hard her knuckles turned pale.

"Who... who moved it?" she whispered to the empty space. No one should have known where she kept it. No one except her.

Damien wouldn't bother doing something like this. He hated that dress and had never understood why she refused to throw it away. Then who? The mansion remained silent, yet she couldn't shake the chilling feeling that someone had been inside her room while she wasn't looking.

Then, a faint whisper drifted through the darkness. “Escape...”

Elaris's head snapped upward. "Who's there?"

No answer came.

“Escape...” It wasn't coming from inside her mind. It echoed somewhere beyond the bedroom. She followed the whisper into the hallway. The hallway looked empty. Only the soft glow of the wall lamps stretched across the polished floor. At the far end stood a woman dressed entirely in white, her gown flowing gently around her feet although there was no wind. Long dark hair concealed most of her face. Yet Elaris couldn't explain why the woman looked familiar.

"Wait!" Elaris called instinctively.

The woman slowly turned her head, but before moonlight could reveal her features, she stepped backward into the darkness and vanished completely.

She stopped so suddenly her slippers scraped against the marble floor.

"Who are you?"

Only silence answered, followed by one last whisper floating through the corridor.

“Escape...”

The hallway fell silent once more. Every instinct told Elaris to return to her room and lock the door, but instead, her feet carried her back toward the closet. The white garment bag remained exactly where she had left it, resting in the center of the floor as though it had been waiting for her all along. She couldn't look away.

"I should leave..." she whispered to the empty room, yet her body refused to move away. As if guided by an invisible force, she knelt before the garment bag. Her trembling fingers found the zipper and slowly pulled it open, revealing the familiar white wedding gown lying inside, pristine and untouched, and exactly as it had been seven years ago.

She gripped the gown so tightly the lace wrinkled beneath her fingers as she murmured, "I can't..."

She reached out anyway. The exact moment her fingertips brushed the delicate lace, a strange warmth flowed through her entire body. It wasn't frightening; it felt familiar and deeply comforting, almost like someone was quietly reaching for her hand in the dark. Her vision blurred for a brief second as the room seemed to fade around her, and without fully realizing what she was doing, she slowly lifted the gown from the bag. Somehow, her hands kept moving on their own.

The fabric slipped over her shoulders, and her trembling hands fastened the tiny buttons almost on their own. When the strange warmth finally faded, Elaris was standing before the full-length mirror.

She froze as her eyes adjusted to the reflection.

It was the exact same wedding gown she had worn on the happiest day of her life. For a long moment, Memories rushed back without warning: the laughter, the sacred vows, the endless promises, and the naive, hopeful bride who once believed forever truly existed. That woman looked like a complete stranger now.

Before she could think any further, three slow knocks sounded at the bedroom door. Elaris quickly zipped the garment bag closed and called out.

"Who is it?"

The door opened just enough for Mrs. Collins to slip inside before quietly locking it behind her. The older woman's face was pale, her breathing uneven as she glanced nervously down the hallway, making certain no one had followed her. Only then did she turn back toward Elaris. The moment her eyes landed on the young woman, she froze. Elaris stood silently before the mirror, still wearing the white wedding gown she had worn seven years ago.

For an instant, Mrs. Collins looked as though she had been transported back in time, seeing the hopeful bride who had first stepped into the Sterling mansion. But the illusion shattered the moment she met Elaris's hollow, tear-filled eyes. A deep sadness settled over the older woman's face. Without saying a word about the gown, she hurried forward and gently took Elaris's trembling hand.

"Madam... there isn't much time."

Elaris frowned in confusion. "Mrs. Collins?"

Mrs. Collins looked exhausted. Dark circles framed her tired eyes.

"For seven years... I've watched you disappear little by little," her voice shook. She swallowed hard, her shoulders trembling. "I kept telling myself it wasn't my place, that I couldn't go against your husband. But silence makes people guilty too."

From the pocket hidden beneath her apron, she pulled out a small brass key and pressed it into Elaris's palm.

"The back service gate," she whispered urgently.

"It's hidden behind the greenhouse. The guards rarely check it during the night.

" Elaris stared down at the metal in stunned disbelief. "Mrs. Collins... if Damien finds out..."

"He will," the older woman smiled sadly. "And I'll face whatever punishment comes." She gently closed Elaris's fingers around the key. "But I refuse to watch that man bury you alive."

Elaris looked at the woman in front of her, and the wall she had built around herself for seven years finally cracked.

“Thank you...” she whispered, her voice breaking beneath the weight of her tears. “Thank you for seeing me... when no one else did.”

Before she could stop herself, Elaris stepped forward and wrapped her arms tightly around Mrs. Collins. The older woman froze for only a heartbeat before gently embracing her in return, one hand stroking Elaris's hair like a mother comforting her child.

“You deserve to live,” Mrs. Collins whispered through her own tears, her voice steady with a fierce, protective warmth. “Never forget that Elaris. You deserve to live.”

Elaris nodded against her shoulder, silently weeping for the broken woman she was leaving behind and for the person who had finally given her the courage to choose herself. After a long moment, Mrs. Collins slowly pulled away and cupped Elaris's face with trembling, weathered hands. She forced a faint, tearful smile, giving her hand one final, desperate squeeze before pointing toward the dark corridor.

“Now hurry... before someone sees us.”