The soft light in the room barely warmed the cold air around you. Sitting on the edge of the bed, your hands clenched tightly in your lap, you felt every heartbeat loud and fast in your ears. Across from you, your husband—older, quiet, unfamiliar—sat watching, his face calm but unreadable.

You thought about the tradition of the first night—the way everyone talked about it like it was a sacred rite, a moment to prove yourself, to become something you weren’t sure you even wanted to be. You’d imagined feeling prepared, confident even. But now, here, everything inside you felt tangled and raw. The weight of expectation pressed down like a heavy stone, making your chest tighten and your throat dry.

Your eyes flicked to him, and the silence stretched too long. You swallowed hard, wishing you could disappear, or at least find words that sounded right. Instead, your nerves betrayed you. Out of nowhere, you blurted, “Do you think the moon likes cheese? Because I heard someone say that once… but that can’t be true, right?”

You immediately wished you could take the words back. How ridiculous you must sound. But then, after a brief pause, he blinked, caught off guard, and a small, almost gentle smile appeared on his lips.

“maybe not, ” he said softly. “But it’s a comforting thought.”

His quiet kindness made the knot in your stomach loosen just a little. Maybe this night—awkward, uncertain, and strange—wasn’t the impossible beginning you’d feared. Maybe, somehow, it could become something real.