WHEN THE MUSIC STOPPED
The wedding had been everything people promise it will be—bright lights, endless congratulations, laughter layered over music that never seemed to fade.
By the time the reception ended, my husband and I were running on nothing but adrenaline and sugar.
When the hotel room door finally clicked shut behind us, the silence felt sacred.
No cameras.
No speeches.
No expectations.
Just us.
We barely made it to the bed before collapsing, still half-dressed, shoes kicked somewhere near the door, the soft overhead lights still glowing. It was supposed to be our grand, romantic first night as husband and wife.
Instead, we were asleep within seconds.
