Her Vows Novels & Stories

Words that sounded different now, like they actually carried weight when spoken between us. "Do you, Ryker Holland—" "I do," I said immediately. A few quiet chuckles rippled through the crowd, but I didn't care. There wasn't a single doubt in my body. Never had been. "And do you, Vanessa—" "I do," she said, her voice soft but steady. That one word hit harder than any promise. The priest nodded, satisfied. "You may now share your vows." Vanessa went first. She spoke about choosing me every day. About standing beside me even when the world wasn't kind. Her voice wavered once, but she didn't cry. Neither of us did.

She looked at Henry, her voice filled with love and devotion as she recited her vows. Once the vows were spoken, the Reverend Father, his voice resonating with warmth and joy, declared, "By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife." The words hung in the air, a momentous declaration that marked the beginning of their lifelong journey together. In that moment, Henry and Amelia exchanged a glance filled with happiness and excitement.

On the night of their fourth wedding anniversary, Raymond Whitmore stood on a Boston stage and unveiled a perfume called Eternal Claire, dedicating it to the woman he swore he would love until his last breath. The world called it the most romantic gesture of the year. Claire called it a cage with a golden lid. Because thirty minutes later, a stranger sent her a video of that same perfume being poured over another woman's naked chest, in a suite two floors below the ballroom, by her husband's very hands. For four years, Claire had traded her PhD, her name, and her silence for a marriage the tabloids envied. In return, she got a mother-in-law who called her barren, a husband who called h

“Help? He was a loose end, just like you.” I glanced at the door, then back at her. “You don’t have to do this. Whatever they’re paying you, my father can double it. Just let me get him out of here. He still might make it if we move fast.” “Double it?” She stepped closer, voice dripping with mock pity. “Money doesn’t buy loyalty to the Swan. Your father couldn’t save your mother, and he sure as hell can’t save you. That alliance with the Volkov’s? It’s going to get you both buried. But don’t worry. I’ll make sure the message gets sent loud and clear with you dead.”

“Will you love her, honor and keep her, in sickness and health, forsaking all others, and keep yourself only unto her as long as you both shall live?” “I do.” “London Hester Marguerite, do you take this man to be your wedded husband?” “I do.” “Will you love him, honor and keep him, in sickness and health, forsaking all others, and keep yourself only unto him as long as you both shall live?” “I do.” “Striker, do you have your vows?”

Especially when Hawk didn’t come. All grew quiet, and the clergyman’s eyes narrowed on her. She realized he waited for her answer. This was when she should voice her approval or decline. She must say it no matter how much her heart argued. “I will.” The viscount smiled and squeezed her hand. When it was his turn, he repeated the same phrase. “I will.” Tears stung her eyes. The ceremony was almost over, and her dream hadn’t come true. She blinked quickly before Lockwood noticed the moisture as he slid a gold band on her finger.

she showed the harsh reality to me. I gulped my tears and nodded no. "Then listen to me for once bacha. I only want your happiness" she pleaded. "What you want ma" I asked emotionally "Promise me you will not reveal your past to your prospective groom before marriage" ma said "No ma, that would be a cheating with the guy and his family. I won’t do such things" i straightforwardly denied. "No, you have to promise for my sake, for amu's future" she tried to blackmailed me emotionally.

“Once we say ‘I do,’ my inheritance is sealed. That’s the deal, Morleigh. That’s all it ever was.” My name. The way he said it—it wasn’t tender. It wasn’t soft. It was sterile. Formal. Cold. I swallowed hard, throat burning. There was no love in that room. No warmth. Just paperwork and pressure dressed up in flowers and vows. This wasn’t a wedding. It was a deal. And I? I was the fine print.

And for a few perfect seconds, there was no history, no pain just them. Their vows came without paper. Just voices and trembling hearts. Elias cleared his throat, trying to steady himself. “I lost you once. And even when I didn’t remember our story, my heart still looked for yours. It still found you. I promise to never let go of that again.” Lucas blinked fast, his voice raw when he spoke. “I waited when everyone told me not to. My soul didn’t believe the silence. It kept reaching for yours. I’ll never stop choosing you.”

She hugged Christine tight. “You look happy,” Angela said softly. Christine smiled. “I am.” Angela pulled back, studying her. “Good. You earned it.” The ceremony began without fuss. Katy walked down the aisle smiling through tears, her father beside her, while Mark stood waiting, hands clasped, visibly trying not to laugh or cry or do both at once. The vows were honest. Not poetic for the sake of it. They spoke of choosing, of patience, of growing without leaving each other behind.