Vows And Other Promises Dramione Novels & Stories

“My mother entrusted me to you on her deathbed. And what did you do to me? “If you had a daughter, would you want her to forgive a man who treated her the way you treated me?” “So, no! I won’t forgive you. I don’t want to ever see you again.” He looked at me deeply, as if recalling that day when my mother placed my hand into his, when he had vowed he would take care of me. He lowered his head and fell silent for a long time. As I passed by him, his trembling voice drifted to my ears.

Henry knelt there for a long time before getting up and walking away, his expression empty and numb. Quinn and I exchanged a look, silently agreeing to act like nothing had happened. After finishing the prenatal checkup, he wrapped his arm around me as we headed downstairs. "Honey," he said softly. "Hmm?" "I'm so lucky to have you in my life." This man! I smiled and squeezed his hand. "You're pretty great too, honey." I knew he was just as shaken as I was after witnessing that scene. Two lonely, misunderstood souls had been granted a second chance at life, love, and a family. It felt like a dream.

Iris beside me, her hand in mine. “Do you take her?” a voice asked. I nodded. “I already did. The moment she walked back into my life.” Her vows followed. Soft. Scared. Brave. “I love you, even when you forget. I will love you when you’re broken. When you run. And when you come back. I will love you through every storm.” The camera panned to our hands as we exchanged rings. A storm rolled in behind us, but we never moved. I dropped to my knees beside her.

𝐂 𝐇 𝐀 𝐑 𝐀 𝐂 𝐓 𝐄 𝐑 𝐒 : 𝐋𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐍𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐋𝐎𝐖 ~25 ~a resident doctor ~My soul is weary but I won't let it defeat me. ♡ 𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐀𝐍 𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐑 ~29 ~CEO of Valor & Co.

From the corner of my eyes, my father watched me nervously, his smile faltering at the fear of what I might be thinking. I never imagined faking an answer to a question like this. To spend a lifetime built on false vows and promises. This is not something I wanted for myself or my children. “I do,” The words tasted bitter as they rolled out of my tongue. Instinctively, I slipped the ring onto his finger without being prompted. The priest took another ring and handed it to the man. I gently removed my glove, revealing my sweaty tender fingers. I sucked in my breath as he reached for my hand, fighting the urge to pull back. After that ring slips in, I will be bound to this man.

The priest asks whether we have come freely and wholeheartedly to give ourselves to each other. "Yes," Dorian and I say, in the same flat tone, at exactly the same moment. The sham of it settles in the room alongside the incense and the orchestral music and the cameras, and I file the absurdity of that question, directed at two people whose presence here is the direct product of coercion and family politics, under things I will process later when I am alone. The vows arrive. I gather everything I have. I hold his gaze. I keep my voice firm and I say the two words that seal it. I do not stumble. I do not whisper. I say them as a statement of intention because it is the only version of this I

“I, Draco Riordan, take you, Luna Granger, as my wife, to have and to hold, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health. I promise before God and these witnesses to always love and cherish you, until death do us part.”

But no amount of blinking or deep breathing would change the facts. I didn’t want this. This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. No first date. No butterflies. No love songs or sweet messages. Just a deal. A business transaction disguised as vows. “I don’t really have a choice. It’s all for the company,” I said in a barely audible voice as I sank beside her, shoulders drooping. “Haze, our family's company is in trouble—serious trouble. From what I picked up last night during dinner, the Fenwick family agreed to help us out financially, but there’s a catch. It benefits them too. Elias is nineteen, but he can’t claim his inheritance from his grandmother unless he’s married. Apparently, that’

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

I loved Cassidy more than anything. Although she had been involved with countless men, and she had even cheated on me with Henry, the fake heir, I still couldn't bring myself to let her go. I worked out, took medication, and did everything I could because I wanted to have a child with her. When the doctor finally told me today that I met the required fertility criteria, I grabbed the test results and rushed straight to her office. "Cassidy, I–" My voice came to an abrupt halt. Cassidy was passionately kissing her new male secretary with her arms wrapped around him. She glanced at me impatiently. "Get out!" I suddenly came to my senses. I could accept having a wife like her, but coul