It was one of those quiet, gentle evenings that only newlyweds truly understood. The world outside seemed distant and unimportant, while inside their small bedroom, the warmth of love and closeness wrapped around them like a soft blanket. They had only been married for a few weeks, still learning each other’s habits, quirks, and the unspoken rhythm that comes with sharing every waking and sleeping moment.

As they lay side by side, the husband turned on his pillow, resting his head in his hand as he looked at his wife. His eyes sparkled with curiosity, not suspicion, not jealousy—just a kind of innocent desire to know more about the woman he had promised forever to.

“Hey,” he said gently, almost playfully. “Can I ask you something a little personal?”

His wife glanced at him, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “Sure… what is it?”

He hesitated for a moment, then asked the question that had been swirling in his mind. “How many men have you… you know… been with before me?”

The room instantly felt heavier. The words hung in the air like a fragile glass ornament that might shatter with the wrong response. It wasn’t an accusation, nor a trap—it was just raw curiosity. He thought to himself, If we’re going to build a whole life together, shouldn’t we be able to talk about anything? Even the past?

But instead of answering, his wife stayed completely silent. She kept her eyes fixed on the ceiling, her lips pressed into a thin line, her breathing steady but quiet.

The husband chuckled awkwardly and reached for her hand, trying to lighten the tension. “Come on, don’t worry. I promise I won’t judge you. I just want to know you better. That’s all.”

Still, she said nothing.

He was about to change the subject when he suddenly noticed her lips moving. She was whispering so softly he almost didn’t catch it.

“…one… two… three…”

He blinked, unsure if he had heard correctly.

“…four… five… six…”

Now his smile began to fade, his eyebrows drawing together.

“…seven… eight… nine…”

By the time she reached double digits, his heart rate picked up. He sat up against the headboard, a nervous laugh escaping him as unease began to creep in.

“…ten… eleven… twelve…”

Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore. “HEY! Why are you counting out loud like that?” His voice cracked with a mixture of confusion and panic.

His wife turned her head slowly toward him, completely calm, and gave a tiny shrug.

“Because,” she said matter-of-factly, “if you interrupt me, I lose count and have to start all over again.”

The husband froze, his jaw dropping in disbelief, while his wife rolled back onto her pillow, eyes twinkling mischievously as if she’d just delivered the punchline of the century.