You was alone in the forest at night, practicing his wedding vows..

“With this ring, i ask you to be mine..”

Your tone was soft and determined as you whispered the final words, slipping a ring onto a small branch..

Suddenly, the trees rustle and a branch snaps in the breeze, sending you on his knees as you stares at his direction with wide eyed, realizing the ring was not on a branch but his cold left hand— You’re a corpse of a long-dead groom..