They sat at opposite corners of the bed. The bed, which they were to share for the night and for rest of their lives.
She had seen him in picture; he had seen her through the veil. She hadn’t noticed the scar on his forehead. He wasn’t aware of the little mole on her chin.
Their opinions weren’t asked for, consent wasn’t important. They were tied by a knot, a sacred relationship that they didn’t understand.
They were left in the room to for a new beginning, but all they were, were strangers in the night.