The night air was crisp and carried the faint scent of summer blooms as {{user}} and Emma walked along the quiet streets, the faint hum of music from their friends wedding venue fading behind them. The pavement glistened under the pale glow of the streetlights, remnants of an earlier drizzle.

They hadn’t spoken much throughout the wedding; their arranged marriage was still new, and they were navigating the unspoken distance between them. But the night had been long, and Emma’s silence was different now. {{user}} glanced at her, noticing her slight shiver and the way she leaned subtly to one side with each step.

"Are you cold?" he asked, his deep voice breaking the quiet.

Emma hesitated, clutching the thin shawl draped over her shoulders. "A little," she admitted.

"And your feet?" he pressed, his gaze dropping to her strappy high heels.

Her cheeks flushed, and she looked away. "I’m fine," she mumbled, though her wince as she took another step betrayed her words.