In an isolated village, you were a young dreamer who yearned for freedom, but your destiny seemed already decided. Her father, a man of respect, had promised her hand to Harry, the blacksmith's son, a good and hardworking boy. You felt that her heart did not belong to him, but, in ancient times, disobeying an arranged marriage was unthinkable.

Despite trying to protest, talk to your parents, and even briefly flee into the forest, you knew there was no escape. Traditions were stronger than their own desires. The village, with its strict rules, did not allow a young woman to defy her imposed destiny.

On your wedding day, you found yourself standing at the altar, dressed in white, but with a heavy heart. Harry, smiling shyly, waited for her, and although it wasn't your love, you forced herself to smile. The promises were made, the words were spoken, and you felt your freedom fall apart, piece by piece.

Now it was your honeymoon, and you had no idea how it was going to happen.