A Coffin for Her Weeping Groom

"A Coffin for Her Weeping Groom" is a serial novel published on SkyStory. 1 chapters in total. I was born with a broken tear reflex.

SkyStory 1 chapters English 11 Sep 2026

I was born with a broken tear reflex. My tear ducts leaked without my permission, spilling over at the slightest tremor of friction, fear, or exhaustion. To the rest of the world, it looked like calculated weakness—a pathetic, weaponized bid for pity. Eventually, I grew tired of explaining myself. I stopped pleading. I simply wept and waited for the end. When I was five, a radiator fire gutted the south wing of the county orphanage. While the other children scrambled for the fire escapes, I slipped into the room where the blaze burned hottest, climbed onto an iron cot, and pulled a clean white sheet over my head. When the firefighter finally hauled me out through the smoke, I lay on the stretcher with my hands folded neatly over my ribs, streaming tears, quietly urging him: "Don't bother with the ER. Just take me straight to the furnace." When I was twelve, the summer camp bus skidded through a rusted guardrail and plunged into the reservoir. I unbuckled my life vest, shoved it into a screaming classmate's hands, and gathered a heavy river stone into my arms. I sank straight to the muddy bottom, crying a steady trail of bubbles into the dark. When the dive team dragged me ashore, my fingers were locked around the stone in rigor mortis-like stubbornness. They had to pry my knuckles loose one by one. At twenty-four, I married into the Langford dynasty. On the morning of the wedding, instead of waiting for the bridal limousine, I dressed in a black burial suit, climbed into the back of a chartered hearse, and lay down beside an empty brass urn. Walter Langford, my soon-to-be father-in-law, chased the vehicle halfway down the estate’s private driveway, weeping until he nearly collapsed. "Martin, son! You’re a groom today! Why on earth are you riding toward your own wedding like a corpse?" I wiped the wet trails burning my cheeks and said, "It’s fine, Walter. You can always catch a wedding car later. Hearses don't always have an empty berth." It was Stacey who pu

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