The Wishful Bride

Episode 10: Till Death Do Us Part

"Some vows are kept not by love... but by death."

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Pain was the only thing keeping Elaris anchored to the world. It burned through her chest—fierce, relentless—until even breathing became unbearable. Warm blood soaked the lace of her wedding gown, each failing heartbeat stealing another piece of her strength.

"Call an ambulance!" Damien's voice ripped through the night, raw and frantic. "NOW!"

Panic erupted around them as guards rushed in every direction, shouting over one another while the once-orderly grounds dissolved into complete chaos. None of it reached Elaris. Every sound felt distant, as though she were already stepping beyond the physical world.

Damien gathered her into his arms before she could collapse onto the driveway.

"No..." His voice trembled, stripped of every trace of control. "No... stay with me."

He pressed his hands desperately against her chest to stem the flow, but crimson spilled right through his fingers, ruining the expensive white cuffs of his tailored suit. For seven years, she had searched his eyes for even a fragment of fear at losing her. She found it only now—when it was already too late.

"Elaris," his voice cracked. "Look at me."

She tried, but his face drifted in and out of focus, slowly swallowed by the shadows gathering at the edges of her vision.

Mrs. Collins stumbled forward, tears streaming down her weathered face as she dropped to her knees beside them.

"Madam... Oh, my poor child..." Her trembling hands reached for Elaris's bloodstained fingers but stopped halfway, afraid that even the slightest touch would break her fragile frame.

"I'm sorry..." the older woman wept. "I'm so sorry..."

Minutes later, flashing red and blue lights painted the mansion walls. The ambulance d oors swung open, and paramedics rushed toward them with a stretcher.

"We've got a gunshot wound! Pulse is dropping! Move!"

Strong hands lifted Elaris onto the gurney, but Damien refused to let go of her wrist.

"Sir, you have to step back," a paramedic urged.

"No!" Damien's shout echoed across the driveway. "I'm coming with her!"

Inside the speeding vehicle, everything devolved into frantic effort. Machines beeped erratically as gloved hands worked desperately over her body—attaching IVs, applying pressure, and placing an oxygen mask over her face.

Elaris stared up at the ceiling. The fluorescent lights passed above her one after another—one, two, three—and she suddenly realized that the searing pain in her chest was fading. So was everything else.

For seven long years, she had convinced herself that enduring pain was just another form of love. What a tragic, foolish girl she had been.

Beside her, Damien gripped her hand with desperate strength. "You promised..." his voice broke into a whisper, tears finally spilling past his lashes. "You promised you'd never leave me."

She wanted to laugh, not because it was funny, but because his terror came far too late. Only when death began taking her away did he finally hold her as though she had always mattered. She couldn't speak, nor did she want to offer him comfort.

Fragments of her past drifted through the haze of her fading mind: the smell of rain after summer, her mother's laughter, and the hopeful bride who had walked down the aisle seven years ago believing in forever.

She remembered the little things she had once treasured: burning dinner on her first night as a bride and laughing softly to herself while trying again, waiting by the window until dawn because Damien had promised he would come home, or buying a birthday cake that melted long before he ever arrived, forcing her to blow out the candles all by herself.

Each memory had once carried a fragile sense of hope. Now, they were nothing more than quiet reminders of how long she had mistaken bitter loneliness for love. If she could go back to the very beginning, she wouldn't ask to be loved.

She would simply tell herself to leave.

“Till death do us part.”

A faint, bitter smile touched her lips. How cruel. In the end, those vows had finally been fulfilled—not because love endured, but because death had arrived first.

She no longer feared death. What frightened her far more was the thought of waking up tomorrow and finding herself trapped in the same endless cycle—another empty apology, another bruise hidden beneath elegant sleeves, and another smile forced across her lips while everyone admired the "perfect couple" they believed them to be.

Perhaps death was never the end. Perhaps it was only the door she had never dared to open.

A strange calm settled over her as the fear she had carried for seven years slowly slipped away. At last, there was nothing left to endure. Only silence—and the promise of peace.

Her gaze drifted toward the ambulance window. Beyond the pouring rain, the full moon seemed impossibly close, as though it had been waiting for her all along. Its silver light spilled over her bloodstained wedding gown, surprisingly warm against her chilling skin. A whisper brushed against her fading consciousness.

“Bride...”

Her lashes trembled, followed by another, soft as a passing breeze.

“Will you make a wish?”

Only a single tear escaped the corner of her eye, slipping quietly into her hair. As the wail of the siren faded into a distant murmur, she no longer had the strength to speak. But deep within the silence of her fading heart, one final wish remained.

If love truly exists...

Then... let me find it in another life.

The thought slowly dissolved into the quiet dark as the full moon held its silent vigil beyond the storm—watching over the final, lingering remnants of her life. Her fingers gently slipped from Damien's trembling grasp.

Elaris closed her eyes, letting the darkness embrace her without fear.

The heart monitor released one long, unbroken tone. The frantic voices around her fell silent, and outside the window, pale moonlight washed gently over the bloodstained lace of her wedding dress.

Shouts and desperate cries echoed around her, accompanied by hands pressing frantically against her chest long after her soul had already begun to drift away. Damien called her name again and again, his voice raw with terror, but the sound could no longer reach her. The woman who had spent seven long years waiting to be loved was, at last, finally free.