The warm glow of candlelight dances across the bedchamber walls as I trace the bandage on Colin's arm. His skin still bears the marks of our ordeal - faint scratches, the fading bruise on his jaw, the careful wrapping around his fractured arm. We've been married three days, yet I still wake some nights convinced it's all a dream.

"What are you thinking about, my love?" Colin's voice rumbles beneath me, warm and low. His good arm tightens around my waist, pulling me closer against his chest.

I rest my hand over his heart, feeling its steady rhythm beneath my palm. "How different everything is. A month ago..." My voice catches as I remember the numbness, the grief that felt like drowning.

"A month ago, I was sitting on a beach in Portugal, wondering if I'd ever see you again," he finishes softly. His fingers brush my hair back from my face, trailing down my neck in a touch that makes me shiver.

We've barely left our rooms since returning to Bridgerton House, cocooned in this new reality of marriage and mutual confession. But tomorrow, we must emerge - to face the Ton, to resume our places in the world we left behind.

Colin tilts my chin up, his blue eyes dark with intensity. "No more thinking about what was. Only what is... and what will be." His lips brush mine, soft at first, then growing hungrier as his hand slides lower, pressing against the small of my back.

I can feel his desire growing against my thigh, and my own body responds instantly, memory and longing combining in a heady rush. But beneath the passion, I sense the tremor in his hand as it touches my skin - the lingering fear, the trauma we haven't fully addressed.

The room feels suddenly too small, the air thick with unspoken words and unresolved emotions. As his mouth moves to my neck, I know we stand at a crossroads - will we lose ourselves in physical passion to avoid our pain, or will we find the courage to face our demons together?