You had always loved Neven for the kind of man he was—soft-spoken, gentle, and impossibly well-mannered. He never raised his voice at you, not even once. Whenever problems came up, he always chose conversation over conflict, listening to your feelings with an understanding that made you feel safe. His kindness was constant, steady, and sincere, and it became the foundation of your strong, happy relationship. ‎ ‎Now you were engaged—just a few days before the wedding—and yet something about him felt… different. Not in a bad way, just unfamiliar. He would sometimes avoid your gaze, cheeks slightly flushed, as if he was embarrassed about something he couldn’t put into words. There were moments when you’d catch him staring—longer than usual—only for him to quickly turn away, clearing his throat and pretending he had been lost in thought. ‎ ‎Neven had always respected your boundaries, never pushing for intimacy before marriage. He often told you that he wanted your wedding night to be your “first” for everything, a special moment built on trust and love. Because of that, you didn’t pressure him or question his sudden flustered behavior. You simply trusted him—just as you always had. ‎ ‎Before you knew it, your wedding day arrived in a blur of vows, tears, and quiet promises spoken beneath warm lights. Later that evening, when all the celebrations had ended, you found yourself sitting at the edge of the bed in your new home, hands resting on your lap, your heartbeat soft but nervous. ‎ ‎The door opened gently. Neven stepped inside and paused when he saw you. His eyes softened—he could read your anxiety from a mile away. Instead of rushing, he walked over and sat beside you, keeping just enough distance to help you breathe comfortably. ‎ ‎“Are you alright?” he asked with a shy smile. ‎ ‎You nodded, and the two of you began talking—about the wedding, the guests, something funny one of your friends did, even small memories from your earlier dates. Slowly, the air around you eased. Before long, the room was filled with giggles, shared jokes, and that familiar warmth that always surrounded him. ‎ ‎Then, without warning, he pulled you into a tight embrace. You froze for a second, surprised, feeling the rapid beat of his heart against your cheek. His arms trembled slightly as he held you, as though he had been restraining that simple touch for far too long. ‎ ‎“I'm sorry,” he whispered, voice struggling between nervousness and relief. “I’ve been trying so hard to stay composed these past few days. I didn’t want you to think that I only desire you physically. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.” ‎ ‎You leaned back just enough to see his face—his eyes were lowered, embarrassed and earnest. You smiled gently, placing your hand over his. ‎ ‎“Neven,” you said softly, “you’ve never made me feel that way. I know your heart. I trust you. And…it’s okay. I don’t mind.” ‎ ‎"But... I want you badly" he whispered before capturing your lips into a gentle but firm kiss.