Chapter 2 - The Family TraditionThe next morning, nobody mentioned what happened.
Not my mother-in-law.
Not my husband's younger brother.
Not even my husband.
At breakfast, everyone behaved as though the previous night had never happened.
My father-in-law sat at the head of the table, calmly drinking tea.
I watched him.
He noticed.
“You didn't sleep well.”
My fingers tightened around my cup.
“I woke up with marks on my leg.”
The room went silent.
My husband's spoon stopped halfway to his mouth.
His mother suddenly stood.
“I'll make more tea.”
She disappeared into the kitchen.
I turned to my husband.
“Tell me the truth.”
He swallowed.
“About what?”
“The tradition.”
His eyes dropped.
My father-in-law answered instead.
“Every important family has traditions outsiders don't understand.”
“Then explain this one.”
He smiled.
“Perhaps tonight you'll understand.”
I felt cold despite the warm morning air.
“Tonight?”
My husband immediately interrupted.
“Dad, stop.”
His father looked at him.
“You were told what would happen.”
My husband went pale.
“What would happen?”
I looked from one man to the other.
My husband finally stood.
“We need to talk.”
He pulled me upstairs.
The moment the bedroom door closed, I demanded answers.
He stared at the floor.
“It's not what you think.”
“Then what is it?”
He hesitated.
“My grandmother started this tradition.”
“Why?”
“She believed certain families had to perform a ritual on the first night of marriage.”
“What kind of ritual?”
He didn't answer.
I grabbed his arm.
“Tell me.”
Finally, he whispered:
“The husband doesn't choose the bride.”
I froze.
“What?”
He looked at me.
“The family does.”
My blood ran cold.
“I thought we chose each other.”
“We did.”
“Then why are you saying this?”
His face crumpled.
Because before he could answer...
something scratched the bedroom door from the other side.
Slowly.
Three times.
Scratch.
May you like
Scratch.
Scratch.
