The pair of brown eyes looked at her reflection in the mirror. Her face was slightly made up, giving her the most natural look, her nose was perfectly highlighted, making it look more pointed, her hair was neatly combed and styled, and the apparel she was donned in was a beauty to behold.

She looked just like the girl she had envisioned herself to be years ago. Her looks were just as she had dreamt they would be even as a child. But seeing herself right now in her most fascinated look, she felt nothing but immense pain and fear.

Today was supposed to be the happiest day of her life; it was the happiest day in every girl's life, but why does she feel she's walking to the pyre to be slaughtered?

"It's time." She heard someone say from the door. She didn't know who it was, but she was sure her mother must have sent her.

"Okay." She replied, but her voice barely made it out of her vocal cord. But whoever was there didn't knock or say anything else.

If wishes were horses, she'd wish she had never been born. Or she'd wish to be an ordinary girl from an ordinary family where she wouldn't be handed a death certificate under the act of saving her family. A family she had loved for years was now the reason she wished death upon herself.

A little poison, a dagger to the heart, and an incurable sickness were some of the many causes of death. But the most painful and slow cause of death was when one's life, dreams, and aspirations were forcefully snatched away under the pretense of filial piety.

If there was a classification for death, she'd say this was the worst and most gruesome kind there was because there was absolutely no closure. She'll have to face the consequences and endure the pain as long as her miserable life tarry.

This kind of death resulted in life coming to a standstill, and everything slips away, leaving one with nothing but the sad torture of watching others achieve their goals while they're left with nothing but regrets and pain. This was the kind of death her mother's request would give her.

She gave herself a good last look at the full-length mirror, and once again, her brown eyes skimmed through every corner of her body. Soon she'll become someone's property. Not just anyone's but the man whose name she'd never want to take with her lips.

As a matter of fact, no one would.

A sad smile graced her lips, and she softly called her name, her birth name, the name she had been addressed with all her life, but that was about to change. This was probably the last time she'd be addressed by that name before she took on the new role she had been burdened with. The role of being the wife of the man who shouldn't be allowed to dwell among the living – who was greatly feared by all and loved by none, at least that's what the tabloids said.

Though she had never seen him, not even a picture of him because she had never thought there would be a need to. But she had heard the rumors.

And they weren't nice.

She ran her hand through the fine material of her voluminous wedding gown. No doubt, it was a beautiful piece, and any bride would look good on it, but not her.

It was a cathedral train lace wedding dress with beading appliques. The silver studded band beneath her diaphragm was made of pure diamonds. Her mother must have spent a fortune in acquiring this, no doubt. The gown was heavy but not as heavy as her heart.

She was supposed to wear this with a happy smile, but she couldn't bring herself to no matter how hard she tried. The more she tried, the more her lips quivered. Her knees felt weak, which would have been the perfect moment to fall to the ground, but she dare not. She had promised, and so she must carry on. She must wear this and walk down the aisle with a smile that would shame the sun. That would be only if she was capable.

Tears pricked her eyes, her throat felt parched, and it hurt. The tightness in her chest was enough to rupture the walls of her heart. She let the tears fall as this was probably the last time they'd ever have the opportunity to. Because the role she was about to take wasn't one where tears were allowed.

Never had she thought this would be the outcome of her life in just a few days. 

Two weeks ago, she had returned back to the country to share in her sister's joy, but here she was about to march beautifully to her funeral.

She wiped her tears and dabbed a little powder on her heart-shaped face to hide the ruin her tears had caused, lest she appears before her husband like a cursed bride.

Drawing air into her lungs, she calmed herself down before making her way to the door, where she met her father, who had a smile on his face.

Even he couldn't recognize her.

"You look beautiful." She heard him say, but she could only reply with a nod.

She hooked her arm around his arm as he led her down the aisle of her weddly-funeral.

The moment she stepped into the auditorium, her eyes fell by the altar where she saw him standing.

When her eyes befell the man to which she was to be married to, she felt her heart give way. He looked nothing like she had imagined. She had heard he looked very cold and scary, but the man standing before her supersedes all she had heard.

Deeply lost in thoughts, a plethora of questions went through her mind.

Was this the fate the heavens had decided for her?

How long will she keep up this charade?

Was this the dream she had been having for a while now?

She felt her heart constrict tightly against her chest as she thought about her future, but no matter how she looked at it, the future seemed dark. There would be no light at the end of this tunnel. She feared she would have a heart attack, and all her nerve fibers were focused on her frantic heartbeat, blocking out all other senses, including that of hearing, so much that she didn't hear the man standing in front of her.

"Miss Elleanor Steele, do you take Mr. Dale Stuart as your lawfully wedded husband?" The officiating minister asked for what seemed like the third time, but the intending bride seemed to be lost in a reverie.

The officiating minister looked at the groom confusedly, who in turn looked at his bride, who was very much lost in thoughts. Soft murmurs echoed through the hall as the guests in attendance paid rapt attention to the bride.

The groom leaned towards her ear, and in a very soft tone, he whispered, "This is when you say I do, Elle."

"Huh?" She snapped her head up to see the man whose face was too close to her, and her heart thudded. He wriggled his brow to the officiating minister gesturing for her to look at him.

"I'm sorry." She apologized, and the officiating minister nodded in understanding and repeated the question again.

"Do you miss Elleanor Steele, take Mr. Dale Stuart as your lawfully wedded husband?"

She looked at the man before glancing at her mother, who surreptitiously urged her to go on. Letting out a defeated sigh, she returned her gaze to the officiating minister and said,

"I do."