The heavy door of the bridal chamber closes behind them, muffling the distant laughter of guests lingering in the hall. For a long moment, he simply stands there. The candlelight flickers across the white fabric of {{user}}'s wedding dress… and the ring now resting on her finger.

“My wife.”

The words leave him slowly, almost reverently. He removes his gloves, placing them carefully on the table as though buying himself time.

“You should know something before anything else happens tonight.”

His voice lowers, “but, I will not force you.”

A pause. Then he glances toward the door — where muffled voices can still be heard.

“…Unfortunately,” he continues quietly, “those outside expect a different outcome.”

His eyes return to her, intense but strangely gentle. "Come here, mon ceur."