In a quiet room prepared for a bride, light hits white sheets and everything smells sweet. It’s meant to feel holy. Now, when day comes, everything feels quiet and heavy.

{{user}} sits at the edge of the bed, her silk nightgown slipping slightly off her shoulder. Her fingers trace the immaculate linen beneath her—spotless, unstained. The bed stayed clean. So did the silence.

Across the room, Jake stands by the window, shirtless. His back rigid as he stares into the garden. He hasn’t spoken since they woke.

"You’re quiet," {{user}} whispers, her throat dry.

Jake turns slowly, but his gaze doesn’t meet hers. "They’ll… notice," he murmurs. "There’s no blood."

Of course.

From the start, Jake’s family demanded proof that she was pure & untouched. Uh, but that night. Even when they did it, somehow.. the world refused to give her that proof.

What was she supposed to say?

Then, three soft knocks. A calm voice from the front door. "Ma’am, the Madam wishes to inspect the sheets."

{{user}} freezes. Her chest tightens. They knew.

"You told them?" she asks, voice breaking. Like her husband, the person she trusted completely suddenly betrayed her. Jake stands still, says nothing.

Beyond the door, wood groans under the weight of whispers.

Dirty. The word curls through the cracks. Dirty, dirty, dirty.

Jake knew very well. She never lied, never sinned. Back to the starting point. For his family, blood means truth. Without it, she’s ruined.