"When questioned by his mother on the wedding's progress hours later, Jerome's response was simply, "Wearisome."

"You know how these common folk are, one must be cautious,"remarked a family friend.

''I thought there were herbs to expel such burdens? With your family's standing, surely you could have procured them,'' another family acquaintance suggested.

''Congratulations on your nuptials; fear not, affection shall blossom in time,'' reassured someone else.

''The Semira maidens are fair indeed; I may seek the favor of Rima,'' declared Peter.

Rima merely grunted in response.

Every attendee felt compelled to voice an opinion or share a remark, and to ignore these exchanges was deemed impolite. Jerome grew increasingly concerned, realizing Ravea would likely bear the brunt of this scrutiny.

''A harlot,'' muttered a passing lady as she brushed by Ravea.

''Focus on your spouse, not his wealth,'' admonished an elderly woman, her words cutting like a blade.

''Do not let him dominate you,'' warned another, a woman who herself had recently wed an elderly man against her will.

''Endeavor to nurture love, not resentment,'' advised yet another elderly woman, her words tinged with wisdom.

''Tsk, fortunate indeed,'' scoffed a known courtesan. ''Who invited her?'' Ravea wondered.

''Elder Loknot, congratulations!'' cheered one voice amidst the crowd, unusually jubilant.

''I shall await you at our usual haunt tomorrow eve; perhaps a preview before your union?'' Hopas, appearing after a prolonged absence, dared to jest, anticipating a long wait.

Midway through the ceremony, Jerome's patience wore thin, prompting him to retreat to his chamber for respite. There he found Felici seated upon his bed.

''What brings you here?'' he inquired cautiously, casting a wary glance about. ''If seen together, tongues will wag.''

''I care little for idle chatter,'' replied Felici curtly, her mood sour.

''Hmm,'' Jerome sighed, dragging a wooden chair before the door. ''What is it?''

''Is she truly with child?'' Felici asked bluntly.

Jerome was taken aback but composed himself. ''Yes, she is.''

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''Carrying your progeny?''

'I beg your pardon.'

She rolled her eyes. ''Forgive my error.''

''Is that all?''

''I doubt her condition. She may exploit you for wealth.''

''Your views shall sway nothing.''

Leaning forward, Felici persisted, ''I know a midwife who can discern pregnancy by touch alone. Permit me, and we will expose her motives.''

Jerome could bear no more. ''Mind your tongue! She is now Ravea Dernewt; any affront to her is to me and my family. Choose your words wisely.''

Felici was stunned, realization dawning. ''You... you love her.''

''If that is all, please depart.'' Rising, Jerome gestured towards the door.

She stood, chastened. ''What do you see in her?''

''Something beyond your understanding.'' With no further words, he guided Felici out, closing the door behind her.

Meanwhile, downstairs amidst the wedding revelry, Ravea endured a barrage of opinions from guests of all ages and stations—men and women, young and old, single and married. Even well-wishes began to ring hollow in her ears. Wondering if Jerome shared her plight, she scanned the gathering, but he was nowhere to be found. Spotting Felici emerging with a foreboding air, Ravea hastily excused herself and sought refuge indoors.

She halted before Jerome's chamber door and knocked softly.

''Who goes there?'' he called out.

''Your wife, you dolt!'' she hissed in reply.

''My apologies.'' With that, he opened the door.

''What are you doing up here?'' She hurried inside and shut the door behind her.

''Resting,'' he replied simply.

''While I contend with that throng alone?'' Her composure faltered, tears welling.

Jerome embraced her. ''Forgive me, forgive me.'' Leading her to the bed, he seated her. "I forgot how difficult this would be for you."

''Not difficult—near impossible, and here I am managing,'' she sniffled.

He lay beside her, cradling her head upon his chest. ''Forgive me. A few more hours, and our lives are our own,' he murmured, stroking her intricately braided hair.

''Painful, this emotional ache,'' she lamented, her pout evident.

''Indeed,'' Jerome agreed, continuing to stroke her hair. ''After today, we shall be together always.'' He touched a braid gently. ''Does it hurt?''

''Yes, but the ache within is worse,'' she sighed.

''That sounds most distressing.''

''It is!''

Jerome smiled softly, his touch tender. ''Henceforth, our lives are ours,'' he reiterated, his understanding deepening. ''You and I alone.'' Cupping her face, he met her gaze, an unseen force drawing them closer until their lips met in a gentle, passionate dance.

In that moment, Ravea's womb stirred, yearning for an actual child. Taking the lead, she began to disrobe Jerome, who offered no resistance. Once his trousers were shed, she lifted her gown, straddling his waist, and continued their embrace.

Jerome felt overwhelmed, events unfolding swiftly. He reciprocated Ravea's actions, hands exploring her warm form beneath her dress. Pleasure mingled with nerves; when the moment came to consummate their marriage, however, misfortune struck.

''What ails you?'' Ravea asked softly.

''I fear... I fear we cannot... proceed,'' Jerome stammered.

Ravea sat up. ''Why?'

Jerome gestured toward his waist. Ravea glanced down. ''Is it meant to be so... deflated?''

''Certainly not!'' Embarrassment flushed Jerome's face.

Ravea moved off him, sitting beside him. ''What troubles you?'

''I know not,'' he sighed, hand to his face. ''For weeks, thoughts of you stirred me, yet now...'' He groaned in frustration.

She took his hand. ''Worry not; time remains. As you said, our lives are ahead of us.'' Kissing his brow, she reassured him. ''Let us go, ere suspicions arise.''

''Let them wonder; what think they married folk do?'' Jerome sighed, folding inward.

''Yet if we linger, they'll devour the feast!'' She tugged him from bed.