I stopped wearing pánts to bed at night the day my husband’s father visited my house, because of their tradition, but the moment he started pẹeping under my sklrt at the dining table, I knew that this was more than tradition.
“My father is the head of the house and we must obey him,” my husband said. “Any time he visits, we must show him that we have nothing to hide; this is our tradition for peace and long life.”
I was in disbelief, thought my husband was joking but there was not a single smile on his face.
“Honey, how can I stay without wearing pánts? What sort of tradition is this?” I asked, disgusted.
“My love, this is a golden rule in our family that must be passed down from generation to generation.”
At that point I was confused, so many questions were running through my mind.
What sort of tradition was that? In fact, how would his father even know if I truly wear a pánt or not?
But I never knew what was coming…
I wanted to be a good wife, so I obeyed the words of my husband. Besides, his father would be staying for only a week.
So, there I was, sitting at dinner in a loose gown, feeIing ẹxposed and nervous when suddenly something shocking happened that stunned me to my bone marrow.
My husband’s father sat directly opposite me but the man kept on dropping his napkin to the ground and every time he bent down to pick it, his eyes would go straight in between my Iegs.
At first I thought it was a mistake, but the moment it happened five good times I knew that something was wrong.
I looked at my husband– Gabriel, but he was busy eating, he didn’t even notice how his father’s eyes were wandering.
“Is the food not good, sir?” I asked, my voice shaking.
“My daughter,” his father said, looking straight into my eyes. “I’m just admiring the very beautiful house you have here and I am so glad to enter inside,” he said, smiling sheepishly.
****
That night, I couldn’t sleep. Gabriel – my husband was snoring loudly beside me while I was still trying to process all that happened that day.
Suddenly, our door pushed open. I froze in shock as my heart hammered against my ribs, there was still nothing under my nlghtie; just like the tradition demanded.
I heard footsteps move closer to our bed and that was when I looked, to my greatest disbelief, my jaw dropped in shock.
Standing right there was my husband’s father, reaching out to t0uch the edge of my blanket.
“Sir?” I called out. “What are you doing?”
I was expecting him to pull back, he was in my own matrimonial room, my husband was right beside me but he didn’t seem afraid. Instead he continued and immediately he puIIed the bIanket completely off me.
I couldn’t believe my eyes, my husband was sIeeping just beside me for God’s sake!
This man leaned even closer to my ear and whispered. “Be quiet my daughter,” he muttered.
“I have come to confirm if you truly obeyed our tradition and most importantly, I must have a tẹst of you, I must confirm if you put on any p@nt under there, when I am in this house.
I stopped wearing pánts to bed at night immediately my husband’s father visited our house because of their tradition, but suddenly this old man started pẹeping under my sklrt at the dining table.
As if that was not enough, that same night, he snéaked into my room, right when my husband was sleeping beside me.
I was in utter disbelief, my jaw fell wide open.
Before I could even say Jack, this man took the bIanket off me.
“My daughter… I must have a tẹst of you to confirm if you truly obeyed our tradition, I must confirm if you pụt 0n any p@nt under there, when I am in this house…”
I wanted to scream, but the words were stuck in my throat. My husband’s father, a man I was supposed to respect, was standing right in front of me, in the name of tradition.
I couldn’t believe my eyes. What sort of tradition was that? What even shocked me the most was how my husband was snoring loudly when such a thing was going on in our room.
I raised my hand up in the air, ready to give the old man a dirty sIap, not even minding that he was my husband’s father.
“Sir, please leave this room!” I said loudly.
I turned to my husband, Gabriel, and shook him hard. “Gabriel! Wake up! Your father is in our room!”
Gabriel groaned and turned over, he didn’t even open his eyes. It was like he was drünk.
“Don’t bother him,” the old man said. “Even if he was awake, there is nothing he can do about it. Did he not tell you? A good wife must serve the head of the family, this is tradition!”
Immediately, sweat broke out from my face, I felt a cold chill run down my spine.
I was barely married to my husband for two months, and although we courted for almost a year, he never mentioned such a tradition to me.
At that point, I was just hoping it was just an elaborate, exorbitant prank.
“This must be a joke,” I said, grabbing the edge of the bedsheet to cover myself.
“Our tradition is not just about not wearing pánts, my daughter,” he said, “It is about total surrender; if you want your family to stay rich and successful, you must make me happy tonight.”
“Sir, please!” I said, getting even more agitated. “Get out of our room right this moment. I can never participate in such a diaboIic culture.”
My father-in-law did not move, he did not even look ashamed, he just kept staring at me and that was when I knew that this was no longer a child’s play.
“Don’t be afraid, my daughter,” he said, his voice calm, which made it even scarier…
It was at that moment I saw a small black bag beside him, he quickly grabbed it and zipped it open.
To my greatest shock, inside the bag were countless bundles of money.
“What is all that money for?” I asked, trembling.
He smiled. “My daughter, I understand that it will never be easy for you to make such a tough decision, even my wife hesitated when it was her time…” he paused and observed my reaction.
“My daughter…” he said again, “this is a little prize for you, if only you can just obey, all this money will be yours.”
To be continued…
Do you think she will obey and take the money?
Don’t miss the next chapter!
But it is so sad that you might not see it.
(I know you’re all very curious about the next part, so if you want to read more, please leave a “YES” comment below!)
My Husband Passed Away in a Car Crash – But a Month After His Funeral, His Boss Called and Said, ‘He Left a File for You. You Needed to See It Before the Authorities Did’
My husband died on a rainy Thursday, and everyone said it was a tragic accident. I tried to believe that until his boss called and told me Liam had left something behind with my name on it.
My husband, Liam, died on a rainy Thursday night.
That was the sentence everyone used, so I used it too. It was clean. Simple. It did not say what the sentence really meant, which was that one wet curve outside town split my life in half.
The police said he lost control of the car. The road was slick. His tires were worn. There were no witnesses.
They called it an accident.
At the funeral, people kept saying the same things.
I believed them because I had no strength for anything else.
Liam was careful in all the small ways that make up a life. He checked the locks twice. He kept jumper cables in the trunk. He filled the gas tank before it dropped below half. He still used the same old keychain he had for years, a plain metal washer our daughter had painted blue once and declared fancy.
At the funeral, people kept saying the same things.
“He adored you.”
Three days after the funeral, his boss called.
“He loved those kids.”
“You had a good man.”
My sister, Grace, stayed by my side through all of it. She handled food, answered calls, got the kids dressed, and kept pressing tissues into my hand. Our daughter Ava is seven. Our son Ben is five. They clung to me like they were afraid I might vanish too.
Afterward, I moved through the house like a ghost. I slept on Liam’s side of the bed. I wore his old gray sweatshirt. I played his voicemail just to hear him say, “Hey, honey. I’m on my way home.”
Three days after the funeral, his boss called.
On the front, in Liam’s handwriting, were three words.
His name is Mark. His voice was low and strained.
“Emily, I need you to come in. Liam left something in his office safe. It has your name on it.”
I sat up so fast my head spun. “What kind of something?”
“I can’t explain it well over the phone.”
When I got there, Mark looked sick.
He led me upstairs, opened Liam’s office safe, and handed me a thick envelope.
On the front, in Liam’s handwriting, were three words.
Inside the envelope were bank records, photos, and a note.
