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It takes two people in a marital union.
But to think that she’d get married so soon at the young age of eighteen — a college freshman with an arts major — was unexpected.
Marriage: the idea was usually saved for the future when both parties finally found the commitment to settle down.
It was a fleeting thought for a lovely girl in love like March. Of course, friendship is the root of romance — it wasn’t different for her and her best friend since high school. Things had been steady between them, but March dared not to profess her affections for him, pretending to be oblivious despite subtly reading between the lines of what he would do for her.
However, March was still someone who struggled to survive. With money being the lifeblood of the world, the day of the inevitable came — the day when she had to choose between herself and her survival. There was no telling what a desperate woman would do, not when problems started to become an ocean she found herself drowning in.
And March had become a desperate woman to save herself.
It takes two people in a marital union.
But with his older brother’s death, his family became determined to find a young woman close his age as his wife — a woman to remember him and relieve the loneliness he’ll have in the afterlife. With his family’s firm sense of tradition, it was no surprise that they’d try to discourage him from entertaining women for the time being.
It was not a problem for Dan Heng, though their subtlety was getting tiring. Of course, they preferred being indirect at things, a trait he must’ve inherited with how he’d been subtle about his feelings for her, but Dan Heng dared not to take any chances of their friendship being compromised because he laid his heart before her.
Things had been going smoothly between them, and he felt compelled to find the right time to speak his true thoughts about her. However, he had overlooked one thing — one crucial thing that made him realize why his parents had been pulling the strings just to make him more reserved when it came to his relationships with others.
Dan Heng was a man willing to give everything he could for the girl whose smile brought color into his world. He would even go as far as defying his family — the tradition of letting his older brother marry before him be damned if it meant committing his life for her. But what could he do when the girl of his dreams was the chosen bride?
A solemn ceremony was held in the household. A portrait of a young man at the front, the strong scent of the incense, and the red embroidered dragons and phoenixes in gold decorated the room. Most of the family was present, all of them awaiting the bride that would appease the dead.
He stood alongside his relatives — his aunts who came to visit not for the wedding but for the tea and the gifts the bride would hand to them, while his cousins looked rather disinterested in the wedding itself.
‘As if everything about this… wedding is normal’, Dan Heng thought to himself, his gaze locked onto the double doors. He couldn’t help the unease he had felt since they were all told to prepare for a ceremony, and the moment Dan Heng entered the room, he immediately knew what it was all about.
Long after everyone had settled, the bells started to chime, and the doors soon opened to reveal the silhouette of a woman veiled with thick red fabric. His father walked to the bride to guide her, and the woman hesitantly grabbed onto his arm. The pair walked down the aisle, and he gently pushed her to stand before the portrait of a young man.
Time felt slow, the room quiet save for the clergy’s speech, following along the proper sequence of a traditional wedding to unite their spirits. Except, the bridegroom was dead, and the poor woman likely had been coerced into the traditions his family had upheld for generations through their financial struggle. Money talked, after all, and his family had the fortune to spare.
But the moment the bride had been revealed, her delicate features dolled up to look more of a woman than a girl, Dan Heng felt the unmistakable dread sink in. Right before his very eyes, he couldn’t be mistaken — the pink hair, the pink-blue eyes… they were all her features.
What is she—
The older people in the family smiled at her as she went to serve them tea, receiving red envelopes in return. She smiled softly at them, though her eyes appeared tired despite expressing her gratitude to them.
At that moment, his heart ached at the sight. The forced happiness of a newlywed, the hesitant taking of money that seemed to matter a lot to her, and the weight of responsibility she’d have to face in their wretched household.
But he didn’t expect the harsh words from her lips, the knives that tore his heart to shreds as she blatantly disregarded everything they’d been through just to say that it was her choice. He tried to convince her — to coax the real truth from her — but he was only met with a sigh and a firm stance.
Dan Heng thought he knew March well, but his heart shattered at the sight of her tired eyes, the truth he refused to believe, and how his family seemed to have taken a firm hold on her.
But what hurt more was…
“I don’t think it’s appropriate to talk to your brother’s wife like this.”
However, Dan Heng made a vow to himself.
To hold onto her — to them — because he knew she never meant them.
March jumped at the sound of glass shattering on the floor, regaining her composure after a few deep breaths as she walked into the kitchen. It had been four years, and she had lived alone in this grand house that its late owner used to reside in.
“Coming, m-my dear…” she spoke softly, her footsteps echoing on the hardwood as she set up a tray — two wine cups and the same wedding wine March drank when she first got married. March poured both cups, hiding the bottle away before heading to the small altar where the portrait rested.
Incense was lit, its strong scent wafting the air as March did the ritual once more. She schooled her expression to one of calm, knowing that his spirit could see her and that he’d give her signs she interpreted as an obligation to at least look like a happy wife despite living alone. As always, he would be appeased, and she’d breathe a sigh of relief that her safety had been guaranteed for another week or so.
March would drink the wine, pouring the other cup into the small container in honor of the dead, and the strange noises she’d been ignoring would completely disappear. However, there was still a sense of foreboding looming over her like a cloud that didn’t seem to go away no matter what ritual March followed through the years.
But a devoted wife like her would always be rewarded — a comfortable life of shallow luxury, a family that paid her debts, and a happy marriage.
March was a wife as much as she was a widow.
Loneliness would lead to her trying to find happiness outside of a bleak marriage born from unorthodox means and beliefs.
But wouldn’t her decisions ruin the sanctity of marriage?
March could care less, not when she had given her heart to someone else before she had been dragged into some odd union. Although she was hesitant to let him in, March knew that things were easier said than done and that the feelings she had for him were difficult to bury.
"You're pretty soaked," he deadpanned as he dried her with a towel. “I thought you’d be home at this hour.”
She chuckled, a bit awkward.
“Sorry, I had to cover for someone at work, so I had to leave later than usual.”
Dan Heng hummed, reaching for the cup of warm tea on the table and handing it to her, to which she responded with a ‘thank you.’ There was an unsettling silence that came after, and March only drank her tea — the bittersweet flavor dancing on her tongue. Her face scrunched up, though she downed the warm drink in seconds. Her reaction was not lost on him, taking a drink of his own.
“Still not your go-to drink?” He looked at her, watching her avert her gaze as she placed the fine china on the table.
“I’ll get used to it,” she assured.
Dan Heng nodded, placing the teacup beside hers.
Another moment of silence befell them, but he could only observe her for a while. This… March. She looked more of a mature woman than the carefree girl he used to know.
“March—”
“How have you been lately?”
His lips pressed into a thin line, frowning at how distant her words sounded as if ever since she got married, there was suddenly a rift between them. He could only try to reach for her, but he knew better than to act on his feelings — not when she was his wife.
“I’m… fine,” he answered — lied. He was anything but fine.
This March… she was but a refined lady, a far cry from what he had known and came to like — love. He couldn’t deny that he never buried his feelings for her, that he was hoping for a time like…
He took a sharp inhale.
“How about you?” He returned.
March forced a soft smile — too refined for his liking, too tired to look happy enough because she was anything but.
“It’s been alright. He’s …” March trailed off, the feeling of dread sinking in her stomach — it was sickening, but she pressed on. “...been great company.”
What is good company in an empty house?
To an outsider, she’d sound like a lunatic — probably lost her mind through the years to say such things.
But Dan Heng knew better.
He always does.
And he hated it.
“I can see that,” he said solemnly, allowing the silence to settle before finally finding the courage to speak once more. “You’ve… changed.”
March looked at him, and it was more evident how far she had gone since then. The tired look in her eyes, the face that rarely smiled nowadays… even if she was there, in his clothes, in his house. She gave a noncommittal nod.
“I must have the last four years,” she acknowledged.
There was an evident melancholy in her eyes, and Dan Heng wanted nothing more than to try bringing the sparkle in them once more — the same light he’d been subtly chasing yet could only dream of reaching. He swallowed thickly, bringing a hand to place a comforting touch on her shoulder, and his heart raced in his chest.
“But… you’re still you,” he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. “It’s just… deep within there — somewhere.”
He could feel her breath hitch, and he could only force his hand away as if it burned from just touching her, looking away as if he had done something irreversible. March looked at him, her eyes wide for a moment before her gaze softened.
What are you doing?
She’s your sister-in-law , for Heaven’s sake!
But Dan Heng just couldn’t find it in himself to see her that way, not when his feelings for her remained true these four years.
‘Is it wrong to see her as not a wife but as a widow?’ His heart screamed.
A hand almost as cold as the winter pierced through his tumultuous thoughts, cold yet, for some reason, warm. He’d always find warmth in the coldness of her touch — he always does. But as he looked at her small hands around his, he could see the light reflected from the golden band around her finger.
Ironic how she was obligated to wear such a symbol when she was bordering between a wife and a widow.
So, in that blink of an eye, when their inhibitions were cast out and their feelings were now laid bare, Dan Heng could only look at her with guilt despite the trust in her eyes. He hesitated, but with March, it wasn't easy to keep his reservations.
He was only a man — no matter how reticent he had been throughout his life — and a man who had desired what had been taken from him could only feel guilty after a moment’s bliss.
One kiss became two, became more, and one friendly touch became dangerous. Whatever they were doing… it was uncharted territory, but one that felt so right — as if this was supposed to happen way before.
It felt like he knew her well again.
Maybe this is what happens when the feelings March buried deep ago were a seed that bloomed into her love for him.
Dan Heng could only close his eyes, slowly peeling away her clothes — too slow for a husband to do so. But he was not her husband, and she was not his wife. Yet, he wanted to believe otherwise.
‘She is not your wife,’ his heart and mind screamed. However, it was as if desire was a forbidden aphrodisiac, a drug too great he no longer thought about his principles. He’d scold himself once this blissful dream had passed.
She was so… so… pretty, a face of innocence he had longed to protect and cherish before everything that had happened back then.
‘She was only unfortunate,’ he thought to himself. He could care less about a wife or even the prospect of marriage itself.
Please.
When all’s been said and done, the sweet nothings whispered, having lost their value as they laid bare, limbs entangled under the sheets — a scandalous and dishonorable deed with his family — it was when the clarity he feared hit him. His gaze lingered on her back, her pink hair messy yet beautiful and soft, his lips pressed into a thin line.
Dan Heng only chose to close his eyes and sleep by her side, playing pretend that it was him whom she married — that it was him whom she devoted her and her love to. He’d embrace her tightly, afraid that she might never look at him the same ever again.
The cup of wedding wine shattered on the floor, the strong-scented liquid seeping the wooden floors as March immediately went to pick the broken pieces up. She winced, feeling the sharp edge of the ceramic cut her hand, drawing blood, which made her drop the piece right away.
March looked at the portrait, glancing at the flickering candles as she suddenly felt an odd yet familiar chill down her spine. She dropped to her knees, immediately kowtowing in hopes of appeasing him.
“A-Feng…” she called, a slight tremble in her voice that was only met by the lights flickering until everything was in utter darkness. March’s breath hitched, a weariness in her voice as she slowly looked up at his portrait, but her heart immediately leaped the moment she felt a cold hand grip her face.
How dare you dare betray our vows .
She could only plead for mercy, a semblance of clemency for some phenomenon that vanished in an instant. However, she could still feel eyes boring holes behind her back — something she felt when a burn mark traced her skin through the blackened patch on her clothes.
March could only wince, enduring the pain as she cleaned up the altar after the wine spilled. But the wrath she had incurred was too great — the consequence of her transgression against him.
You should be ashamed .
Unable to take the wrath she had incurred, March would shut herself in the empty bedroom, hoping to hide from his omnipresence in the haunted manor.
You’ve dishonored our union .
A soft sob escaped her lips as tears fell down her face as she repeated an apology, promising to be a better wife and pleading for a chance to prove her loyalty once more.
March was a tired woman.
A very tired woman.
Since that day, March had stayed in the house, rarely going outside other than having to buy groceries. She had been given an indefinite leave — a privilege for working under his family’s company.
A scolding and dismissal to placate her restless husband at best, getting disowned and thrown away on the streets without money at worst.
The relief she felt was indescribable, though she still dreaded having to return to a dead husband, but she only took what was given. After all, the weak like her have nothing to do other than take what they can to survive in the world.
It was a pitiful situation, but March had no choice — not when they knew how much she needed them to pay off their debts, with the price of being married.
What a counterfeit marriage it was, yet she chose to stay rather than go through it all again.
But, it was also so she could keep his eyes in her life, that even if they were closer by different means, it was something she could be happy about — a twisted fantasy she couldn’t break from.
It was all worth it.
She had him in the end, even if he could never have her — even if they could never have each other in such a sacred and unbreakable bond.
Not when she was bound to something — to someone else.
So, even if the strangest phenomenon in their house would wound her relentlessly, she pressed on. March would do the same routine every day until she no longer suffered the wounds of her wrathful husband. She would endure until the end — until her death.
After all, she vowed to be with him even in death.
March was an insane woman.
A poor, sweet woman who devoted her celibate life to him.
A smile to her in-laws, a hint of fear in her eyes at the chill down her spine. She knew better than to let herself slip — to show what was true. March had no way of knowing how long until the madness would consume her whole.
She wasn’t fond of liquor, but for once, she found solace in the expensive wine her in-laws introduced to her.
Dan Heng would see her, and his lips would press into a thin line, a frown on his face as his heart ached at what she had become — a married woman not only in life but until beyond death for eternity.
When he found her at a local bar after receiving her walls of drunken texts, his breath hitched at the sight. Dan Heng walked to her hunched over the counter while holding a glass of wine beside a half-empty bottle.
“Are you her boyfriend, sir?”
Dan Heng shook his head, taking his coat off and putting it on her shoulders, and coaxing her to let go of the glass.
“No, I’m her frie— in-law.”
The bartender nodded, watching him guide her arm to hang onto his shoulder. Dan Heng reached for his wallet, leaving a huge tip and surprising the bartender.
“Sir—”
“Thank you for watching over her for me.”
Without waiting for a response, he picked March up, carrying her unconscious body out of the bar.
The drive to the empty house was quiet. March was asleep in the passenger seat, his coat covering her body to keep her warm.
Dan Heng stayed quiet, his eyes focused on the road, but he couldn’t help but glance at the sleeping woman beside him. He frowned when he saw the faint scars on her wrist, but his frown deepened when he observed how her face remained untouched.
He didn’t know much of the supernatural, but his family was a firm believer in such. Dan Heng didn’t understand why they should be too devoted to appeasing those who had passed, why, for some reason, they believed that misfortune would rain on them should someone die without getting married.
But now, he could probably understand in some way that despite his brother barely caring about the prospect of marriage, he was still a man who might’ve planned on marrying sometime in the future.
Why?
Perhaps Dan Heng hoped that he would understand should his spirit choose to finally listen to his heart’s desires.
Why hurt her?
It hurt him to see her like this. It hurt tenfold when he couldn’t do anything other than hope that she would find some semblance of happiness — something he wished he could give but couldn’t.
When they finally stopped in front of the house, Dan Heng looked at the sleeping March, her head resting against the car window. He hesitantly reached out to brush a stray strand of hair, his fingers brushing against her cheek.
March…
Dan Heng took a deep breath, his hand finally resting against her cheek. He shut his eyes so that he no longer had to feel the pain of seeing her so, so vulnerable. Dan Heng had known her for years. He knew well how fragile she was despite the strong face she wore — how that semblance of optimism was a way to cope with her problems because March always assured him that she was fine.
But March was stubborn, even if she was anything but fine.
She would only accept help when it had already been done, but she would do all she could to the point of even giving herself just to repay them because March saw it as a debt — as a burden she had involuntarily imposed on them.
How long would you keep up until you fully break?
The answer was unknown to anyone — to him.
But perhaps… his sentiments would reach their intended receiver.
Even if he was long gone.
March was…
Free?
It was strange that her mother-in-law would suddenly visit, but with grace she had honed through the years, she welcomed her warmly, just as any good daughter would do. March served her the barely touched tea of her home, newly bought after she had thrown out the old tea because they were only reserved for occasions or whenever her in-laws would decide to visit.
“You’ve improved,” she said. The lady was old yet sophisticated in a way that she could be mistaken to be younger than her actual age. “Though, it’d be better if you steeped the tea longer.”
March bowed her head, taking a seat and keeping a respectful amount of distance from her — neither too close for comfort nor too far that they seemed like strangers rather than family.
“Thank you, Ma,” March spoke softly, keeping her hands on her lap, though with the way she fidgeted her fingers, it was clear that she was anxious — all for the good reason that the elder people of the family rarely visited, save for her now rowdy cousins she politely tried to never see much again.
“About him,” she began, her tone serious, which didn’t help with March’s anxiety at all.
She looked up, meeting the sharp gaze of her mother, who set her tea down.
“Him?” March repeated in question.
“Yes,” her mother-in-law confirmed. Though March’s heart fell when she said, “Dan Heng.”
March swallowed thickly, trying to hide the tremors of her hand. She heaved a breath, hoping her voice wouldn’t betray the uneasiness she felt.
“What about brother ?”
The older woman sat up straight, fixing the jewelry on her wrist.
“You know well what I wanted to talk to you about concerning my son,” she said, her voice unwavering of the serious air through her words. “After all, you’ve known each other for many years.”
“Ma—”
“Do you feel something for my son?”
March could only keep quiet, hesitant to even be honest. But she knew that she had to, lest her mother's cold fury incur her. A disaster waiting to happen if she were to go ahead and lie — March knew better than that. However, Mother’s patience was wearing thin, and she tapped her finger on her knee.
“You must be thinking of lying to me.”
Her breath hitched, and she immediately shook her head before bowing to her.
“Of course not, Ma. I’m just thinking—”
“Thinking about how I found out?” She said coldly, and March knew she had to pry the words out of her throat before anything bad could even happen — if the situation right now wasn’t considered bad at all.
“Ma, I’m sorry,” March said, her voice quivering as if stopping a soft sob from escaping despite the tears welling up in her eyes and the heavy feeling of dread settling in the depths of her chest. “I didn’t mean to, I—”
“Stand.”
She did as told, her head hung low as she dared not to look at the older woman. March caught a glimpse of her standing up. Her body slightly shuddered when she took her chin, a cold gentleness that only made her feel like a deer caught in headlights.
“Look at me.”
March looked up, her breath caught in her throat as she met the woman’s steely gaze, a small frown crossing her face as she let go. A few moments of silence settled between them before Mother sighed.
“A-Feng told us something strange,” she began, her voice low. “ He wants the marriage to end.”
Her eyes widened as she watched her rummage through her bag and take out a red envelope and a brown envelope.
“Burn the brown envelope and scatter the ashes,” the old woman instructed. “Your compensation is in the red envelope. Take the money and leave as early as possible.”
March frowned, confused.
“Why?”
The older woman simply stood up.
“Just do as you're told, will you?” She said, her voice cold as she walked out of the door.
Dan Heng was, in a way, a lucky man.
It was this kind of fortune Dan Heng had in him that his family would let him do as he pleased — something he didn’t take for granted but didn’t waste on either.
A few days after the accursed contract was burned and the ashes scattered without ever allowing an opportunity for the dead to intrude into the lives of the living, March found herself a simple woman again.
Dan Heng waited a while, as advised after his family relented. In his dreams, he saw Dan Feng with his usual hard gaze, his lifeless eyes closing before he turned his back on him to return to the spirit world.
After a while, he’d see March working a simple job to support herself now that the conditions for the life of shallow luxury no longer applied and that she had been compensated fortune enough to last her a while until she found a way of income.
However, Dan Heng made sure she no longer had to work a simple job — no, she was now allowed to do as she pleased. He was the witness to her relieved smile and genuine happiness in her eyes when she was given what had been due. So when the veil was lifted, it was as if time stood still when their gazes met.
It was when the wedding bells tolled and white petals flew in the air that they found their happiness from their college days.
March donned the prettiest smile he’d seen, a giggle symphonic for his ears — a sound he would never tire of now that he took the woman in white’s hand in his, slipping the golden ring on the finger it belonged to.
Their union was sealed with a kiss, and for a moment, Dan Heng felt him watching the entire event, but rather than the sense of dread for an impending misfortune, it felt that he was giving him his blessing along with their many relatives and ancestors.
They pulled away after a while, and March leaned in to embrace him, his arms instinctively wrapping around her.
Dan Heng took a deep breath, a small smile tugging at his lips.
March looked beautiful being married in white on an auspicious day.