While I was about to help her get to the living room, my husband stopped me:
Let Mom stay here, it’s just a wedding. A wedding. The wedding.
Bitterly I carried the pillow to the sofa, without daring to react for fear that he would label me a “newly married and ill-mannered wife”.
I tossed and turned in bed all night, unable to sleep. It was almost morning when I finally fell asleep.
When I woke up, it was almost six o’clock. I went upstairs with the intention of waking my husband and going downstairs to greet my maternal relatives.
I gently pushed the door to open it… and I froze.
My husband was lying on his back. My mother-in-law was very close to him, in the same bed that I had abandoned.
I approached with the intention of waking him. But as I scanned the sheet with my eyes, I suddenly stopped.
On the pure white sheet… there was a reddish-brown stain, slightly extended like dried blood.
I touched it: it was dry, but still damp at the edge. And the smell… it wasn’t like alcohol.
I was stunned. My whole body was cold.
“Are you awake?” – my mother-in-law jumped, startled me quickly, pulled the blanket to cover the wound, her smile shining and suspiciously alert – “Last night I was so tired that I slept soundly!”
I looked at my husband. He was still pretending to sleep; his breathing was strange.
He didn’t say a word. He didn’t turn towards me.
I didn’t know what had happened in my bed on my first night as a wife, but… it wasn’t normal. For nothing.
That night, I snuck into the laundry room. I found the old sheets.
And from that moment on, the marriage that had just begun… was officially broken.
My name is Claire Miller, I am 26 years old, recently married to Etha Miller, a young, kind and calm doctor and the only person who makes me believe that true happiness exists.
