His Wedding, My Funeral Mga Nobela at Kwento

His voice barely above a whisper, he murmured, “Elara… Lucian is marrying Selene in three days.” He stammered, his hands shaking. “But that day… that day is your funeral.” That day was my funeral. And on that very same day, my ex-husband was marrying the love of his life. I took a deep breath—not because I needed the air anymore. How could I? Was this some kind of sick joke? Even in death, Lucian still found ways to punish me. I wanted to storm into his wedding, to tell him that I was gone, that I didn’t want his wedding overshadowing my funeral. But I couldn’t. Not only because I was just a ghost now, but because Lucian and I had already divorced.

During that visit, he merely treated my family politely, unlike the warmth he showed Isobel's family, which I saw through the photos. I closed my eyes. Doing my best to quash the bitterness I felt, I turned off my phone. The next day, I reached out to a few friends and told them that the wedding had been called off. Dante once said that he didn't like wedding ceremonies. He thought they were a meaningless formality. At my insistence, he reluctantly agreed to have a small wedding ceremony with only our closest family and friends invited. Everyone around me knew how much I loved Dante. My friends were stunned to hear that the wedding had been canceled.

Drake added. "No, it’s fine. I’ll be there," Caden replied, giving a bitter smile at my coffin. "How ironic. They’re having their wedding on the same day your funeral is! And they want me to be the best man!" Even in death, the news still managed to pierce my heart. On the day of my funeral, Caden wore a black suit and dark sunglasses to the wedding, as he had to attend my funeral afterward. My soul followed him to the venue.

he tries to draw me into his arms but I step out of his reach. "You died!" my breath is rapid as I try to suck in enough air as I gasp around sobs, "They showed me your corpse and I buried you. Instead of having a wedding, I wore black to your funeral and mourned you as a widow." "I know, I was there." "You were watching!" He was at his own funeral. "You saw me suffering and you just watched." "We needed it to be believable. If you knew..."

Just like then, his touch was awkward yet steady, a silent attempt to hold me together when my world was falling apart. The funeral was a quiet, somber affair. The sky hung heavy with unrelenting gray, as if the universe itself grieved alongside me. I stood motionless beside my father, my breath shallow, as I watched my husband being lowered into the earth. This wasn’t the forever he had promised me. There were no more whispered dreams of growing old together, no more late-night laughter or morning kisses. At just twenty-six, I was already a widow, trapped in a reality I never saw coming.

White roses and ribbons untouched. But on the ground, crushed petals were scattered like debris after rain. Staff carried speakers out. Servers pushed empty carts, moving fast. I opened the door. There were no cheers, no congratulations—only low whispers drifting like dust. “…It’s over.” “That fast?” “The groom isn’t Henry Jones.” “It’s the one from the White family.”

he said, I remember when I told him this. “you know what’s the opposite of funny, yeah, not funny” I said, he shrugged, “it is to me” he said. I looked outside my window, “wait a minute, are we going to the beach?” I said, he ignored me, if what I’m thinking is right, then I’m guessing our wedding will be on a the beach.

He was practically eye raping me thus it felt more disgusted. "Well I feel happy to tell you my beautiful bride that our wedding will be happening in Malta,isn't it exciting?One of the most beautiful place in Europe.My parents were married there."He kept telling me about his extravagant plans for the supposed wedding which was never going to take place of sure,in fact he would have a grand funeral. I danced inwardly just by a mere imagination of him,going down beneath the ground. But he doesn't deserve such respect after death rather he must be fed to the wolves alive.

Then, with both hands pressed against his face, he began to sob uncontrollably. What was supposed to be the wedding of the century had turned into the century's funeral. … At the funeral, Grayson stood beside Wendy's coffin, his eyes glazed over, offering mechanical gestures of acknowledgment to each guest who came to pay their respects. "Mr. Bryce, please accept our condolences." "Mr. Bryce, please accept our condolences." "Mr. Bryce, please accept our condolences." Every guest who came to offer their sympathy looked at him with deep regret. What a wonderful couple they were, how could they have been torn apart so suddenly?