A Wedding That Never Ended
699 Words
The night air in the mansion grew colder — the kind of cold that bit into the soul.
Mei sat cross-legged on her bedroom floor, the note from Lianhua trembling in her hands. Every candle she’d lit flickered nervously, as though the house itself feared what she now knew.
Lianhua was never laid to rest.
She was buried alive in silence, with her bones bound and her voice stolen.
But not anymore.
Mei knew she had to act — to finish what no one else in the family had the courage to begin.
She opened her drawer and pulled out her phone. Her fingers hesitated over the screen.
Who would believe her? That her ancestor had been murdered in a ghost marriage ritual nearly a century ago? That her bones had been hidden inside the walls of a forgotten mansion?
But this wasn’t about proof.
It was about release.
---
Downstairs, the house moaned with age. Floorboards creaked where no footsteps were heard. The shadows stretched longer than they should have. The air shimmered like heat waves — only this was no summer breeze.
Mei made her way toward the east wing one final time, carrying the box with Lianhua’s remains wrapped in silk. Her hands trembled, but her feet did not waver.
She passed the red room, the mannequin now stripped bare. The veil had fallen to the floor like a dead flower.
In the center of the room, she placed the box on the altar.
“I found you,” she whispered. “And I’m not going to leave you like they did.”
She knelt and lit three incense sticks, placing them before the photo.
“I don’t know all the right prayers,” she said softly, “but I know pain. I know what it means to scream and not be heard. I know what it means to be trapped.”
The air grew still — deathly still.
Then... a low hum filled the room.
The music box played again.
This time, the tune was slower. Lighter.
Mei looked up — and there, standing by the doorway, was Lianhua.
Not the terrifying vision from before.
But a girl, barely seventeen, draped in soft red silk, eyes filled with sorrow... and hope.
“I kept my promise,” Mei said, tears slipping down her cheeks. “Now it’s your turn to be free.”
Lianhua stepped forward. Her mouth moved.
“Thank you.”
The candles blew out all at once.
Darkness.
Then — a wind swept through the room, lifting the veil into the air, wrapping it around Lianhua like wings.
Light burst from her chest — warm, golden light.
And then she was gone.
No scream. No wail. Just peace.
---
The next morning, the house was quiet.
Not the haunted kind of quiet — but restful. Like something had finally exhaled after holding its breath for too long.
Aunt Lin sat at the kitchen table, clutching Mei’s hand tightly after hearing everything.
“You did what none of us could,” she said softly. “You freed her.”
Mei looked out the window, where sunlight touched the old garden.
“I didn’t do it alone. She helped me. She just needed someone to listen.”
Aunt Lin nodded, eyes misty. “You’ve ended a curse that haunted this family for generations.”
But Mei wasn’t sure it was over.
She still had questions.
About who chained Lianhua.
About the silence.
And about the boy in the vision — cold, watching, present during the betrayal.
There were still secrets in the bloodline.
And Mei wasn’t done uncovering them.
---
Later that day, she returned to the altar room with a lighter heart. She planned to clean it — to turn it into a memorial, a place of peace instead of sorrow.
But as she opened the door…
She froze.
The photo of Lianhua was gone.
And in its place was a new photo.
A girl in red silk, kneeling.
Eyes full of fire.
It was Mei.
Her own face, looking back at her.
The scent of incense returned.
And behind her, a voice whispered —
“One bride freed.
Another bound.”
---
- Writer
