Where Vows End
I gripped the white veil tightly, my fingertips breaking out in a fine sweat.
The wedding dress was personally chosen by Matthew Copper. He said the pearls scattered along the hem resembled the shells I once gathered by the sea.
The host glanced at his watch for the third time, while the murmurs from the guests below grew ever more distinct.
My phone suddenly vibrated, displaying Sydney DeRoss' name.
I took a deep breath and pressed the answer button.
"Matthew is here with me," her voice dripping with deliberate sweetness, "He said he wanted to fulfill the promise on the first Wish Card."
"What wish?" My voice trembled.
"It's simple," Sydney chuckled softly, "He won't come to your engagement ceremony."
The phone slipped from my palm, shattering against the red-carpeted steps.
The cracks on the screen mirrored the fractures within my heart at that moment.
Matthew pushed open the door, his suit still kissed by the evening breeze outside.
He didn't glance at me, instead reaching straight for the black velvet box atop the coffee table.
Within lay a hundred gilded Wish Cards—promises he owed Sydney from three years before.
"Abigail," he said evenly, "I'm sorry, Sydney needs me."
I watched his retreating back, suddenly recalling the words he had spoken three years ago.
"Abigail, once I have repaid the debt I owe Sydney, I will stay with you forever."
Yet, throughout these three years, he repeatedly pushed me away with those Wish Cards.
When Sydney asked him to spend her birthday with her, he missed our anniversary.
When Sydney asked him to delete my contact, he truly never reached out to me again.
The ninety-ninth Wish Card arrived while I was training at the racetrack.
Sydney's car suddenly crashed into my side, and my steering wheel instantly spiraled out of control.
The moment the car slammed into the guardrail, I instinctively shielded my stomach.
There lies a fragile life, barely two months old.
By the time the ambulance arrived, my consciousness was already fading.
Faintly, I heard the nurses whispering beside me.
"Why has the blood bank run out of type A blood?"
"It was transferred to the neighboring hospital. They said Miss DeRoss suffered a scrape and might need a reserve supply."
"But this patient is still bleeding heavily..."
"There's nothing we can do. It was Mr. Copper's command."
When I woke on the operating table, my lower abdomen felt hollow and bare.
The doctor stood beside me, his voice heavy: "Ms. Harris, I'm sorry, but the baby couldn't be saved."
The phone lay on the bedside table, its screen softly glowing.
Sydney updated her Instagram with a photo.
She sat in the hospital room, a small band-aid on her arm, captioned: "Luckily, Matthew was here. Even a minor injury had me so nervous."
Below, Matthew commented, "Be more careful next time."
I picked up the phone and dialed Kevin Murphy's number.
He was Matthew's rival and the only one who knew I held 10% of the Coppers' shares.
"Mr. Murphy," my voice was cold, "Do you want the shares I hold?"
Sydney's hundredth Wish Card arrived swiftly.
She demanded that Matthew marry her first.
On the wedding day, I was stopped by Matthew's bodyguard in the makeup room.
"Ms. Harris," the bodyguard said firmly, "Mr. Copper wants you to serve tea to Miss DeRoss."
I looked at myself in the mirror, dressed in a plain dress, and suddenly found it laughable.
Once, I was also the one he had promised to marry.
The wedding hall was draped entirely in red silk.
Sydney wore a pure white wedding dress, arm in arm with Matthew, smiling proudly.
"Abigail," she said, holding out the teacup to me, "Conventionally, you should kneel and serve me tea."
Matthew stood silently beside us.
I looked at him, suddenly recalling the promise we once made.
"Abigail, when we marry, I will never let you suffer even the slightest grievance."
But now, he was looking at someone else, making me feel humiliated.
I took the teacup and slowly knelt down.
As my knees met the cold floor, Sydney suddenly released her hold.
The teacup shattered on the ground, shards scattering across the back of my hand.
"Ah," she feigned surprise, "How could you be so careless?"
Her eyes fell upon the jade bracelet on my wrist.
It was my mother's heirloom, and the token of betrothal Matthew had given me long ago.
"This bracelet is truly beautiful," she reached out to snatch it, "Why not give it to me as a wedding gift?"
I gripped the bracelet tightly, but she yanked it with force.
With a sharp crack, the jade bracelet fell to the ground, shattering into several pieces.
"What are you doing?" I sprang up abruptly.
Sydney suddenly burst into tears, saying, "Matthew, Abigail bullied me and even said I'm not good enough for you."
Matthew frowned and looked at me. "Abigail, stop making a scene."
"Making a scene?" I looked at him, tears finally streaming down. "Matthew, open your da*n eyes and look! She destroyed my mother's belongings!"
"Stop it," Sydney suddenly said, "Abigail, is it because you once carried Matthew's child that you think you're special?"
"What do you mean?" My heart tightened.
"Nothing," she laughed lightly, "I just wanted everyone to see whether you truly deserve to cling to Matthew."
She even demanded to examine my body in public.
Just then, the auditorium doors were pushed open.
Kevin entered with a group of lawyers, holding a document in his hand.
"Everyone," he raised the document, "Ms. Harris has transferred her shares in the Coppers to me. I am now the largest shareholder of the Coppers."
The screen behind him suddenly lit up, playing a video of Sydney's promiscuity overseas.
The auditorium erupted into chaos.
Matthew's face instantly turned deathly pale.
"Impossible!" Sydney screamed. "You forged evidence!"
"Is it forged?" Kevin looked at Matthew. "Mr. Copper should know well."
Members of the Board of Directors swiftly arrived and announced Matthew's immediate dismissal from the board.
I picked up the divorce agreement on the table and signed my name.
Matthew gripped my wrist. "Abigail, don't go. I know I was wrong."
I gently pushed his hand away. "Matthew, between us, it's been over for a long time."
As I turned to leave, his desperate plea echoed behind me.
But I never looked back.
On the day I left this city, a light rain fell from the sky.
I dragged my suitcase and boarded the plane to City X.
There, the purest sunlight shone—perhaps able to heal the wounds within my heart.
Before that pilgrim shrine, I lit a butter lamp.
Staring at the flickering flame, I whispered, "Baby, I'm sorry, as your mommy, I couldn't protect you."
The wind drifted through the prayer flags, carrying a faint sandalwood scent.
It felt as if the baby were answering me.
Half a year later, I returned to the city I once called home.
Outside the apartment door sat a familiar figure.
Matthew wore an old coat; his hair was disheveled, and his eyes were bloodshot.
"Abigail," he said as he stood up immediately upon seeing me, "I know I was wrong, about that child..."
"You only realize that now?" I cut him off.
He was momentarily stunned, then pulled a document from his pocket.
"I have checked," he choked out, "Sydney deliberately caused the car accident and diverted the hospital's blood supply and doctors. It was I who harmed you and the child."
I looked at him without the slightest flicker of emotion.
"Did it hurt when you lost the child?" He asked abruptly.
I didn't answer, only turned away and pushed open the apartment door.
Just as he reached out to grab me, I slammed the door shut with force.
The door caught his knuckles, emitting a sharp crack.
"Matthew," I said coldly through the door, "that pain doesn't compare to the agony you let others strip me bare and examine me at the wedding."
A muffled groan came from outside, followed by the sound of footsteps.
The next morning, I found an envelope at the doorstep.
Inside was a property transfer deed—Matthew had transferred all the real estate and savings in his name to me.
I looked at that document and was suddenly struck by its bitter irony.
Can these things bring my child back?
Can they ever heal the wounds he inflicted on me?
In the end, I signed the paper nonetheless.
This is not forgiveness—only the compensation I am owed.
Sydney sought Matthew three times, but each time the bodyguards barred her from entering.
The last time, she pressed herself against the car door, crying, "Matthew, you can't abandon me!"
Matthew only had the driver hand over a check, never showing himself.
On my birthday, I sliced the cake in a private room at the restaurant with my friend Robert.
The door suddenly burst open; Sydney's hair was a tangled mess like straw, and she gripped a fruit knife in her hand.
"Who is it?" Robert stood up and stepped in front of me.
"Shut up!" Sydney's eyes glazed over as she stared at me. "Abigail! It's all your fault! If it weren't for you, why would Matthew have abandoned me?"
As she lunged forward, I could even catch the gleam of the blade.
"Abigail, be careful!" Matthew suddenly rushed in and shoved me aside.
The blade pierced his back, and he emitted a muffled groan.
Blood quickly seeped out, staining his white shirt through and through.
He collapsed into my arms, clutching my wrist: "Abigail, I have failed you... Please, don't forgive me..."
Later, the doctor spoke to me: "Ms. Harris, he has fallen into a vegetative state; the chance of recovery is less than 10%. You must brace yourself."
I nodded silently, saying nothing.
Three months later, I was twirling prayer beads in the monastery when my phone rang.
It was Kevin; after a brief pause, he said, "Abigail, the Copper family has given up treatment. Matthew Copper passed away this morning; he left in peace."
I touched my slightly swollen pregnant belly as sunlight filtered through the paper window, warm and gentle.
This child was conceived shortly after I prayed for blessings in City X.
Perhaps this is the child I lost, returned to me in another form.
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