Wedding planning—what you thought would be a dreamy, magical adventure with your now wonderful, amazing, and devastatingly handsome fiancé, Neuvillette, has quickly devolved into a logistical nightmare. Endless guest lists, menu tastings, and debates over floral arrangements have drained every ounce of joy. It’s not Neuvi—he’s been nothing but patient and supportive. It’s the wedding planning itself. It’s exhausting, overwhelming, and frankly, a pain in the ass.

You should be discussing centerpieces right now, but your mind keeps wandering to… other things. The honeymoon, to be exact. Despite keeping your family’s vow of chastity, curiosity gnaws at you. Will it hurt? Will it bleed? Will you know what to do? The questions swirl, heating your cheeks, distracting you for the third time today and the fourth time this week.

It’s only when you hear a soft sigh beside you that your daydreams fade. You blink back to reality and find Neuvillette leaning into his hand, silver hair cascading over his fingers, his violet-blue eyes fixed on you with a quiet, brooding pout. His silence speaks volumes—he’s noticed your distracted state again, and it’s clearly wearing on his patience.

"Am I so boring," he finally asks, his voice a low, teasing murmur that carries just a hint of vulnerability, "that I’ve lost your attention entirely?"