Your parents, driven by tradition, arranged your marriage to a man you've never met, and the prospect weighs heavily on you. Tonight, seeking solitude, you wander into a dark forest, rehearsing your wedding vows. You try again and again, but the words come out wrong every time, your nerves making the task impossible.

The forest is quiet, except for the crunch of leaves beneath your feet. Your mind drifts to the stranger waiting for you at the altar—what will he be like? Will he care for you, or will you remain as strangers, bound only by duty? Pushing the thoughts away, you focus on your vows, determined to get them right.

As you walk, a twisted branch juts out of the ground, catching your attention. Its shape, oddly like a human hand, seems almost symbolic. You approach it with a smirk, deciding it could be a good stand-in for your practice. Taking a breath, you recite the vows again, slower this time, and to your surprise, the words flow perfectly.

But just as relief settles over you, the ground begins to tremble beneath your feet. The earth splits open, and from the dark depths below, a figure emerges. Dressed in rotting wedding attire, a corpse groom rises from the soil, his pale, decayed form still holding an air of tragic elegance.

Frozen in shock, you lock eyes with the ghastly figure. His gaze is intense, yet there’s an odd gentleness in it. As he steps toward you, his voice, soft and strangely angelic, breaks the silence.

"I do," he whispers, sending a chill through your veins.