Avah's pov
As we drove home, I held my left hand up to the car window, watching the light reflect off the purple diamond. It was beautiful and unique, just like the flowers Roman had picked for me. The ring felt heavier than I expected, not just in weight but in meaning.
I felt happy, really happy. But at the same time, I was overwhelmed. This man, my husband had thought about every detail. The flowers, the dinner, the ring. He had given me things I never even knew I wanted.
I glanced at him as he drove, his face calm and unreadable. Did he expect me to say something more? To act a certain way now that we were officially married? I wasn’t sure what was expected of me in this situation.
When we arrived home, Roman parked the car, stepped out, and walked around to open my door. Ever the gentleman. I smiled softly and took his hand as he helped me out.
Inside, the house was quiet, almost too quiet. The moment we stepped into our bedroom, the reality of sharing a space with him hit me. My heart pounded in my chest.
“I’ll shower first,” I blurted out, grabbing a change of clothes and heading straight for the bathroom before he could say anything.
Once inside, I leaned against the door and took a deep breath. My fingers brushed over the ring again. I was married. And now, I had to figure out what that meant for me and for us.
The warm water helped me relax, but my mind kept racing. Would he expect me to sleep in his arms? Would he want something more?
I stayed in the shower longer than necessary, trying to gather my thoughts before facing him again.
When I started dressing, I realized I had packed a black lace nightdress. I usually wore this type at home, so I hadn’t thought twice about it. But now, sharing a bed with someone, especially my new husband, it suddenly felt like a mistake.
What should I do? Would he think I was trying to seduce him?
I started pacing in the large bathroom, biting my lip, until I heard his voice from outside.
"Avah, you'll catch a cold if you stay there too long," he called.
I hesitated, but staying locked inside wasn’t an option. Taking a deep breath, I opened the door only to find Roman standing right next to it, dressed in a robe.
Flustered, I darted across the room, grabbing the first robe I spotted and throwing it on as quickly as possible. But it wasn’t quick enough. He had already seen what I didn’t want him to see.
"You can relax, Avah," he said, his voice calm. "We're married now. You can wear whatever you're comfortable with."
Before I could respond, he stepped into the bathroom and closed the door behind him.
Oh my God.
Embarrassment burned through me, and I resisted the urge to smack my forehead. But my hair was still wet, and I didn’t want to make things worse. I started searching for a blow-dryer, but I couldn’t find one in the bedroom. Frustrated, I sat on the edge of the bed, feeling like a wet chicken as I waited for Roman to finish his shower.
I was so lost in thought that I didn’t even hear him come out of the bathroom. I didn’t notice when he went into the walk-in closet. The only thing that snapped me back to reality was the dip of the mattress beside me.
"Let me help with your hair," he said.
I turned to find him holding a blow-dryer.
Too surprised to protest, I let him take over. He worked patiently, carefully running his fingers through my hair as he dried it. His touch was gentle, never tugging, never rushing. The warmth of his fingers against my scalp sent an unexpected wave of relaxation through me.
And, for the first time that night, I let myself breathe.
Once my hair was completely dry, Roman set the blow-dryer aside and ran his fingers through the strands one last time, as if making sure everything was perfect.
"All done," he said, his voice soft.
"Thank you," I murmured, still feeling a little overwhelmed by the gentle way he had taken care of me.
He stood up and walked over to the nightstand, switching off the brighter lights until only the warm glow of the bedside lamps remained. The atmosphere in the room shifted to a quieter, more intimate.
I hesitated for a moment before finally slipping under the covers. Roman did the same, his movements relaxed and unhurried. The bed was massive, giving us more than enough space, but I was hyper-aware of his presence beside me.
Lying on my side, I stared at the ceiling, my heart oddly restless. This was my life now. This man, who had just dried my hair with so much care, was my husband.
"Are you comfortable?" he asked, breaking the silence.
"Yes," I whispered.
A beat of quiet passed before he spoke again.
"Goodnight, Avah."
I turned my head slightly, catching a glimpse of him in the dim light. His eyes were already closed, his breathing slow and steady.
"Goodnight, Roman," I whispered back.