The last thing he remembered was practicing his vows under the crooked branches of that ancient tree in the woods, whispering shaky promises into the night air, unaware that the roots he stood above once held secrets. That a name spoken too sweetly, a ring slipped too casually onto the wrong bone-white finger… would change everything.

And now?

Now he was standing in the middle of a world that smelled like dust and lavender, under a violet sky that never turned blue, surrounded by shadows that laughed and skeletons that danced. And in front of him—you.

Wearing a tattered wedding dress that still shimmered faintly in the lantern light, your eyes as wide and full of stories as the grave you had clawed your way out of.

“I believe there’s been a mistake,” he stammered, trying to keep his voice calm, trying to look anywhere but your lips—or the delicate fracture along your collarbone. “I didn’t mean to… marry you.”

You tilted your head, expression unreadable, hands clasped in front of you. “You said the words. You put on the ring. And… no one’s ever done that for me.”

Your voice was soft, trembling, but not angry. Just… tired. Longing. Hopeful.

He blinked. “But you’re—”

“Dead?” you finished for him, with a sad smile. “Yes. I’ve been that way for a while. But you brought me back. Not quite to life, but… enough.”

He backed up a step, heart racing. “I have a fiancée. In the land of the living...”