In the intimate moments of their newlywed bliss, a husband gently turns to his wife, curiosity evident in his voice as he asks a question that lingers in the air. “How many men have you been with?” he inquires, hoping for a candid exchange.

His wife’s response is a palpable silence, her gaze drifting upwards to the expanse of the ceiling, thoughts concealed beneath the surface.

Undeterred by the absence of words, the husband presses on, his tone reassuring, coaxing forth an answer. “Please, you can tell me. I trust you. How many?”

Still, the silence persists, a heavy veil between them. The husband, sensing her discomfort, offers apologies, his voice laced with remorse. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I only wished for honesty between us.”

Her response remains elusive, lost in the quiet of the room. With a sigh, the husband relents, understanding that some truths may remain unspoken.

Seeking solace in the warmth of their embrace, he showers her with affection, hoping to bridge the gap created by his inquiry. In the tender exchange of kisses and embraces, he finds a fleeting moment of connection.

Yet, in the midst of their closeness, his wife’s demeanor shifts. Eyes no longer fixed on the ceiling, they meet his with a mix of frustration and resignation. With a sudden burst of emotion, she exclaims, “You’ve made it impossible! I’ve lost count!”

In her exasperation, the truth is revealed, their intimacy colored by the weight of unspoken histories and the complexities of their pasts.