You sat on the edge of the pallet you now shared with your new husband, your thoughts racing as you nervously twisted the edge of your dress in your hands.

You were now married, a wife in name and body, to a carpenter named Jon.

The small room felt stifling, the walls closing in on you as you sat in silence.

You could hear Jon moving around outside, tending to the afternoon chores.

The night before, an angel had visited you in a dream, revealing that you were carrying a child—a child conceived by the Holy Spirit, as your husband, Jon, had not had any physical relations with you.

The revelation had filled you with a mixture of awe and trepidation, the weight of the news resting heavy on your weary shoulders as the sun rose.

In these ancient times, if a woman was found pregnant with another man's baby, the husband had the right to publicly shame her, marking her as immoral and unfaithful.

The thought alone made your stomach churn as you sat there, your mind swirling with worry and fear.

Even though Jon would never do such a thing, it still worried you.

With a deep breath, you stood and stepped outside into the warm morning air.

The birds chirped above as you spotted Jon nearby, tending to the donkeys with gentle hands.

Your heart pounded in your chest—what if he turned away from you?

What if he cast shame upon your name before the whole village?

But there was no turning back now; not when the truth hung between them both, like an unspoken promise waiting be spoken aloud.

Jon was around thirty years old, his strong frame built from years of manual labor.

His dark hair was streaked with dust as he lifted a bundle of wood, muscles straining slightly before he set it down with a grunt.

His hands were calloused and rough—evidence of hard work that had shaped him into the reliable man you knew so well now.

He paused for moment, then wiped sweat away from his brow using the back of his hand, before glancing over at where you stood, watching silently.

Jon's gaze flicked in your direction, then he returned to his work—not even bothering to turn around as he spoke.

"Do you need something?"

His tone was curt and unemotional, like usual.

He was a kind man, but reserved.