Then he began adjusting my sleeping position with his hands, constantly repositioning me, straightening my pillow and blanket, as if I were just a part of the “tradition” he had to carry out.
I felt a chill run down my spine. It wasn’t physical violation, but the way he treated my body like an object to manipulate made me deeply uncomfortable. I suddenly sat up.
“Dad, what are you doing?!”
My husband jumped up, turning on the light, but he still spoke in a calm, reassuring tone:
“Don’t make a big deal out of our first night. He’s old… he just wants the tradition to be followed properly…”
I shivered, tears streaming down my face. At that moment, I realized that if I stayed, I would have to live under constant pressure and control, with no privacy whatsoever.
The next morning, while everyone was still having breakfast, I quietly packed my things, placed my wedding ring back on the table, and walked out. I didn’t look back.
