A Wedding Built on Peace, Not Perfection
Our wedding was intimate and understated, exactly what I wanted. Close friends. Family. Soft music. Gentle laughter. I wore the white dress I had dreamed of as a girl, though I never truly believed I would wear it.
That day, I felt radiant.
I stood beside Steve, holding his hand, convinced that this chapter of my life was finally unfolding the way it was meant to. There was confidence in my steps, gratitude in my heart, and hope I had not felt in years.
After the ceremony, we returned to his house, now our home.
I slipped away to the bathroom to remove my makeup, change out of my dress, and take a breath. I wanted to pause the moment, to let the reality of being married settle in.
I smiled at my reflection, unaware that everything was about to shift.
A Wedding Night That Felt Wrong
When I returned to the bedroom, the air felt different.
Steve was sitting on the edge of the bed, his shoulders slumped, his hands shaking slightly. He did not look up when I entered.
Nothing about the scene matched the night I had imagined.
There was no smile. No warmth. No anticipation.
He lifted his head slowly. His face was pale, his eyes filled with something that looked like fear.
“I’m sorry,” he said again. “I should have told you sooner.”
My heart began to race.
“Told me what?”
He inhaled deeply, as if bracing himself.
“I can’t give you the life you might be expecting,” he said. “Not a traditional honeymoon. Not tonight. Maybe not ever.”
The room felt suddenly cold.
He looked down at his hands, avoiding my eyes.
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