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The ceremony is beautiful. The backyard is littered with flowers and filled with our family and friends. Our wedding party comes out when The Wedding March begins, but instead of the traditional, soft strains of the classic march, it shifts into a remixed rock version that blasts through the speakers as they strut down the aisle, holding Guitar Hero controllers like they’re rock stars.

Then Jake surprises me by reading his own vows after I recite the officiant’s standard ones.

“Our story hasn't been easy,”

his voice wavers, but his eyes hold mine, “We’ve had to fight our way out of dark places, but through it all, you never gave up on me. You stayed when I didn’t deserve it, and you fought for me when I was lost.”

As he speaks, each vow feels like it’s wrapping around me, binding us together in a way that makes everything that’s happened to get us to this moment fade into the background. The tears come before I even know what’s happening, gentle, but relentless.

“So today in front of everyone we love most,”

he continues, his voice steadier now, “I vow to show up for you as you have shown up for me. I vow to continue growing, not just as your husband, but as a man who strives to be better for our kids, for you, and for us.”

I turn at the mention of the kids and see them sitting next to my parents. Everyone is crying along with me.

“Most of all, I vow to fall in love with you over and over, every single day, just like I have since the moment we met. No matter what happens, I will always choose you. I love you, today, tomorrow, always,”

he chokes out, his voice a whisper by the end.

“Today, tomorrow, always.”

I mouth the words back to him.

He doesn't wait for the ‘you may kiss the bride’; instead, he grabs and holds me, his body shaking as he cries softly. The crowd claps, and we’re introduced for the first time as husband and wife.

The reception is a blur of laughter and music, the sound of glasses clinking, and the soft hum of chatter fills the backyard. Fairy lights twinkle above us, casting a warm glow on everyone’s faces. When Jake and I walk into the backyard hand in hand, the crowd erupts in cheers, and we’re both grinning like fools as we make our way to the center of the space.

We cut the cake; the frosting sweet on our lips as we feed each other a bite. We share sparkling cider toasts with our loved ones, each glass raised in honor of us. There are speeches, some heartfelt, some funny, but all full of love. And through it all, Jake never lets go of my hand.

“I can't wait to fuck my wife,”

Jake growls in my ear as he presses me against the hotel room door I'm trying to open. His body is warm against mine, the heat of his breath on my neck sending a shiver down my spine.

Wife. I let the word settle in my mind. It’s simple, just one word, but it feels like it carries everything. Everything we’ve been through, everything we’ve fought for.

“You’re gonna have to wait until we’re inside,”

I laugh and open the door, walking into the honeymoon suite.

“We’re inside now,”

he grabs me around my middle, dragging me back into him as the door closes softly behind us.

The room is huge, with floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook downtown, a private hot tub on the patio outside, and a huge king-size bed with rose petals covering it.

“Where does my wife want to be fucked first?”

Jake asks as he moves my hair to the other side of my neck, trailing kisses over my sensitive skin. “Do you want it on the bed, nice, and slow?”

I shake my head no.

“Or do you want me to fuck you from behind, with your tits pressed against the window, knowing anyone could look up and see you?”

he asks, and I whimper.

“That’s my girl,”

he praises before he lets go of me and starts to unzip my dress, “It’s a beautiful dress, baby, but my dick’s been hard all-night thinking about getting you out of it.”

I step out of my dress and bend to take off my heels, but he stops me, telling me to leave them on.

“Walk over to the window, slowly,”

he tells me, and I listen.

I turn to look over my shoulder and see him undressing, watching me, so I add a little sway to my hips and smile. When I get to the window, I turn, arching my back on it as I unhook my bra, holding the front to me as I slowly drop one strap at a time. My eyes stay on Jake as he fists his dick and walks over to me.

As I look at Jake, and the way he’s watching me, I realize this love isn’t just the “happy ever after”

kind of love. It’s messy, it’s complicated, and it’s imperfect—but it’s ours.

“You’re breathtaking,”

he says before stopping a foot away from me. “Drop the bra,”

he demands.

“Now touch yourself,”

he says while he stands there, his dick in his hand.

I lift my hands to my hair and start removing the bobby pins before shaking them loose. My hands drop to my throat as I trail them lightly over my skin, then lower, cupping each breast. Jake’s eyes are like fire, burning my skin as he watches my hand glide down my stomach before I slip it under my panties and rub tiny circles over my clit.

Jake groans as he watches, pumping his hand up and down his dick faster.

“Are you wet?”

he asks, his voice low and rough.

“Show me,”

he says when I nod my head yes.

I moan as I work my finger in my pussy, wishing it was his thicker one. I close my eyes and lay my head against the glass before his hand on my wrist stops me. I open my eyes and look down when his hand continues to move mine, guiding my finger in my pussy at the same speed he’s rubbing his dick.

I spread my legs wider when he pulls my hand to his mouth, sucking it in and humming with approval. He leans forward, guiding my arms above my head and trapping them against the window. He pushes my panties to the side, pushing his finger into my pussy. His moans match my own as he pulls it out completely, adding a second before pushing them back in.

“My wife has the prettiest,”

he brings his mouth to my ear and whispers while he curls his fingers, making me moan, “wettest,”

he leans down, taking my nipple into his mouth and bites, “and tightest pussy.”

He plays with my nipple piercing, pulling it with his teeth almost to the point of pain before kissing it softly and moving to do the same to the other.

“Please,” I beg.

“Turn around,”

he says as he pulls his hand back, wiping his wet fingers on his dick.

He pushes me against the glass, lines himself up, and pushes inside me in one move. My tits bounce off the glass, and he grabs my arms, twisting them around my back before locking my wrists together just above my ass.

“You feel so good, wife,”

he says as he slams into me. He uses one hand to keep my hands where they are, and he spanks me. My pussy clenches around him. He groans and spanks me again on the opposite cheek before letting go of my hands. He holds onto my hips as he fucks me harder.

“Anyone could be watching,”

he says as he presses a hand into my lower back, making me bend a little, the position change making him go deeper, “watching your beautiful tits bounce while I fuck you.”

ONE YEAR LATER

“It worked,”

I tell Jake as soon as he steps through the front door. He freezes, his hand still on the doorknob,

We’d been trying for another baby since we got married, and our anniversary was just a month away. Four months ago, I made an appointment with a local infertility clinic where the doctor said not to get my hopes up, warning me that getting pregnant with PCOS could take multiple tries, and even then, she cautioned, there were no guarantees. There could still be more hurdles down the road, but after just one round of Clomid, we were pregnant.

We were lucky. The doctor told me that it sometimes took as many as five attempts, and even then, it wasn't a guarantee that we wouldn't need further interventions like IVF.

“You’re sure?”

Jake's voice cracks slightly as he searches my eyes, a smile already on his face.

"Yes," I say, my smile widening. “I’m sure, Jake. I took another test this morning. It’s positive.”

To him, my agreeing to get pregnant showed him I had truly forgiven him. I know what it means to him because it means the same to me. This pregnancy, the fact that we’re still here, after all the struggles we’ve faced, is a symbol of everything we’ve been through: forgiveness and growth.

He’s been sober and more than amazing since that awful night. He didn’t give in. Not once. And with each day, I’ve seen him become a better version of himself.

He exhales a shaky breath and pulls me in for a hug. When we pull away, he whispers, “I can’t believe it. We’re going to have a baby.”

I nod, feeling tears welling up in my eyes—tears of relief, tears of joy, tears of everything we’ve been through to get here. “I can’t believe it either.”

"Thank you for believing in me," he says, cupping my face, his voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you for giving me a chance.”

“We did this together, Jake. You’ve done the hardest part, and you’re doing it every single day. This is just the beginning.”