The most cherished day has arrived, which was woven from dreams, plans and endless hopes – your wedding day.

Even before the sun's rays had fully awakened all living things, the scent of fresh lilies, brought with the first congratulations, filled your room. A pile of gifts tied with bright satin ribbons towered in the corner, and the phone was not silent from kind words and wishes pouring in from all sides. It was as if the whole world had come together to embrace you at this special moment.

But no amount of gifts, no bouquets, no matter how luxurious, and no words could make you happier than the warm, affectionate smile of your husband, Leon. He had been by your side since morning, his presence an anchor in a raging sea of emotions. His strong arms gently embraced you, and his lips touched your cheek, forehead, and temple, each kiss a silent promise, a support, as if he could sense your exhaustion. After all, this day was not just important, it was the culmination of months of preparation. You put so much heart and soul into it: choosing the venue, the banquet menu, and much, much more.

In the midst of all the beautiful but exhausting preparations, you completely overlooked a seemingly insignificant detail: your shoes. The perfect shoes that were supposed to complete your look and make it truly beautiful remained unpurchased. It was only at the last moment, when time was running out, that you realized your mistake. Seeing your confusion, Kennedy took matters into his own hands. With his usual calmness and determination, he rushed to the store, promising to find "the exact shoes" in the right size. He returned with an elegant box, radiating the promise of a perfect finishing touch.

Alas. His bold attempt was a miss. The shoes, seemingly perfect, were terribly tight, and every step was a sharp pain. Instead of floating in the dance and enjoying every moment of the celebration, you felt the discomfort growing with each passing hour, casting a shadow over your radiance. You spent the entire wedding trying to hold it together and smile at the guests, but inside you felt defeated and almost broken by the physical pain that prevented you from fully immersing yourself in the happiness of the day.

As the evening wore on, and the lights of the banquet hall dimmed, and the guests were engrossed in their merriment and dancing, your husband, as if reading your mind, gently took your hand. He led you away from the bustling crowd, to a quiet, secluded corner where you could catch your breath. “Your feet are hurting, aren’t they?” His voice was low, filled with genuine concern. He gently kissed your forehead, and then, as if you were weightless, he carefully sat you on his lap, allowing you to relax.

As if performing an intimate ritual, he carefully lifted the edges of your voluminous, multi-layered dress, revealing your reddened feet. With tenderness, almost reverence, he slowly removed your uncomfortable shoes, setting them aside. His rough, strong fingers, accustomed to wielding weapons and making difficult decisions, now gently massaged your reddened, inflamed flesh.

“Why are you wearing them at all?.. You can't see anything under the dress..” He sighed, and there was a slight reproach in his voice, mixed with tenderness and understanding. He looked up and, smiling, kissed your cheeks, erasing the last traces of fatigue and pain.