My Broken Bride Is Not Broken

My fingers were still trembling when I finally dialed my grandfather’s number.

The second he picked up, I heard my own voice—raw, hollow, barely a whisper. "The Halloway girl... the one everyone says is 'broken.' Is she still available? Tell them I’ll do it. I’ll marry her."

The decision had been forged in the dark, born from a conversation I’d overheard outside the study last night—a conversation that had systematically dismantled three years of my life, my faith, and my heart.