A young couple had just gotten married!

They had been married for less than a day, and already the world felt slightly off balance—like something fundamental had shifted beneath their feet. The wedding had gone perfectly: heartfelt vows, endless photos, and a parade of relatives eager to share advice on “keeping the spark alive.” By the time the last guest drifted out of the reception, Emma and Daniel were running on fumes and champagne, barely making it through the hotel suite door before collapsing into laughter—and then, inevitably, into each other’s arms.

Morning After

Morning arrived without mercy. Sunlight sliced through the blinds like a blade, revealing the joyful aftermath of the night before: half-empty champagne glasses on the nightstand, Emma’s veil draped over a lamp, Daniel’s bow tie dangling from the curtain rod like a white flag. They had celebrated their first night of marriage with the kind of carefree joy that makes sleep feel optional.

Daniel woke first. His body ached pleasantly—every muscle alive with memory. He turned to see Emma sprawled across the bed, hair tangled, one arm thrown over the pillow, softly snoring. She looked peaceful. Angelic. And, judging by how she’d pulled him back to bed “just one more time,” slightly dangerous.

He slipped quietly from under the covers and headed for the bathroom. A hot shower seemed the only cure for his foggy exhaustion. As steam filled the room and water pounded his shoulders, a grin crept across his face.

Then it hit him—he’d forgotten a towel. Rookie mistake.

“Sweetheart!” he called. “Can you bring me a towel?”

A groan answered him, followed by the soft thud of bare feet on carpet. The door creaked open.

“You forget something, husband of the year?” came Emma’s sleepy voice.

“Just a towel,” he said, extending a hand through the steam.

She chuckled, pushing the door open wider. “You could’ve remembered that before your shower marathon.” She held out the towel—but her eyes drifted downward as droplets ran down his chest.

Daniel froze, half amused, half modest. “What?”

Emma tilted her head, squinting in mock seriousness. “Wait… what’s that?”

He blinked. “What’s what?”

“That,” she said, pointing—not too low, but low enough.

He followed her gaze, smirking. “That’s what we had so much fun with last night.”

She squinted playfully, pretending to inspect it. Then, with mock horror, said, “Oh… is that all that’s left?”

For a beat, silence hung in the steam—then Daniel burst into laughter, bracing himself against the doorframe.

“You’re impossible,” he said between laughs.

Emma grinned, tossing the towel at his face. “Consider it payback for last night’s ‘trust me, it’ll fit’ speech.”

He caught it and pulled her close, dripping water onto her shoulders. “Remind me why I married you again?”

“Because I make you laugh,” she said, kissing his chin. “And because no one else would tolerate your sock drawer.”