I looked at my husband.
“Do you honestly expect me not to think something is wrong?”
He opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
For the first time since I met him, he looked like a child caught hiding something.
Finally, my father-in-law sighed.
“I owe you the truth.”
I didn’t answer.
I just stood there.
Waiting.
“My son was supposed to tell you,” he said.
I looked at my husband.
“He didn’t.”
My husband looked away.
That hurt more than anything.
Because I had spent the entire day believing I was marrying someone who would stand beside me no matter what.
But within hours of becoming his wife, I was standing in a room where two generations of his family had decided what I should accept without even asking me.
My father-in-law slowly sat on the edge of the bed.
“The tradition is not what I told you.”
