All Chapters of The Wedding Night Curse: Chapter 111 - Chapter 115

The sun had barely risen when the sound of metal striking stone echoed from the center of the village. An old man everyone called Pak Rano hauled up a bucket of mud from the rim of the well they were repairing. Three younger, sweat-soaked workers waited their turn to descend on the rope.“There’s a hollow down here,” one of them called from below. His voice sounded strange, as if bouncing off walls far away.Pak Rano leaned over the edge. Darkness. The smell of wet earth mixed with something older—like stale fabric that had been locked away for decades. “What kind of hollow?”“Like a tunnel… there’s carvings on the wall.”That made two of the workers glance at each other. In this village, everyone knew: carvings underground were never a good sign, especially if they looked like the Blackwell wedding symbol—a circle with a crown of thorns in the center.Despite his hesitation, Pak Rano decided to go down himself. He’d been digging wells for thirty years; no one knew this soil better th

Alika’s POVThat morning felt heavier than usual. The sun couldn’t even cut through the fog clinging low over the village. The inn’s kitchen was silent; the only sound was the faint crackle of wood in a nearly dead stove. I sat in a wooden chair, a cup of cold tea in front of me, staring at the floor without really seeing it.That image—of the man holding another woman—was still burned into my mind. I kept trying to convince myself it was nothing more than a trick of the glass reflection last night. But the heat in my chest every time I remembered it was far too real to be just a dream.I drained the last of my tea, forcing my thoughts elsewhere, until my eyes caught on a floorboard near the kitchen cupboard. Its color was slightly different. Darker. The edge was cracked. And only now did I notice—it sat just a little higher than the others, as if it had been pried open before.Every instinct

Ethan didn’t move. His breath caught when the baby—this tiny creature that should not have been looking at him that way—smiled with burning red eyes.Mrs. Whitmore stepped between them. “Don’t touch it. Not now.”“It’s my child,” Ethan said quietly, but the edge in his voice was a threat. He took a step forward, and the wedding gown spread across the floor moved on its own, lace and fabric creeping up to form a barrier between him and the baby. The air turned cold, every exhale visible like mist.Alika began to shiver. Her eyelids drooped, her face pale. “Ethan… something’s wrong… I can’t feel my legs.”The midwife snatched a small pouch from her bag and tossed white ash into the air while murmuring a prayer that sounded like a blend of Latin and some ancient tongue. The baby laughed—light and crisp, yet weighed with something so heavy the floor itself vibrated.The bedroom lights flickered three times. Glass cracked in the wind