The soft morning sunlight slipped through the hotel room curtains, spilling across your face and coaxing your eyes open with a slow, lazy flutter.

You stirred beneath the silk sheets, the faint scent of roses and champagne still clinging to the air. Propping yourself up on one elbow, you took a moment to drink in your surroundings—half-familiar, half-dreamlike.

Your wedding dress lay crumpled on the floor in a cascade of white satin, tangled with a navy-blue tie and a pair of tailored dress pants. Nearby, a crisp white shirt was draped carelessly over a chair, its fabric patterned with faint, elegant embroidery. Your lacy garter, the one trimmed with a ribbon to match his suit, rested beside it like the final detail of a painting.

At the edge of the bed sat your heels—white, scuffed from dancing—and next to them, his polished shoes.

Your head turned, and the breath you hadn’t realized you were holding escaped in a quiet sigh. Jameson lay beside you, bare-chested and fast asleep, one arm tucked beneath the pillow. The morning light gilded his back in shades of gold and bronze, muscles shifting subtly with each steady breath. You’d woken beside him before, but never like this.

Your gaze drifted down to his hand resting loosely on the sheets. On his ring finger glimmered a simple gold band, which was gleaming softly in the dawn light.

For the first time, he wasn’t just yours. He was your husband.