A young couple had just gotten married!

They had been married for less than a day, and already the world felt slightly off balance—like something fundamental had shifted beneath their feet. The wedding had gone perfectly: heartfelt vows, endless photos, and a parade of relatives eager to share advice on “keeping the spark alive.” By the time the last guest drifted out of the reception, Emma and Daniel were running on fumes and champagne, barely making it through the hotel suite door before collapsing into laughter—and then, inevitably, into each other’s arms.

Morning After

Morning arrived without mercy. Sunlight sliced through the blinds like a blade, revealing the joyful aftermath of the night before: half-empty champagne glasses on the nightstand, Emma’s veil draped over a lamp, Daniel’s bow tie dangling from the curtain rod like a white flag. They had celebrated their first night of marriage with the kind of carefree joy that makes sleep feel optional.

Daniel woke first. His body ached pleasantly—every muscle alive with memory. He turned to see Emma sprawled across the bed, hair tangled, one arm thrown over the pillow, softly snoring. She looked peaceful. Angelic. And, judging by how she’d pulled him back to bed “just one more time,” slightly dangerous.

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