On the wedding night, I had to give up my bed to my mother-in-law because she was “drunk” — the next morning I found something stuck to the bed sheet that left me speechless.

“Mom is too drunk, let her lie down for a bit, it’s too noisy downstairs.”

My mother-in-law, who a controlling, notoriously strict woman, staggered in, hugging a pillow, her breath reeking of alcohol, her shirt low-cut, her face red.

While I was about to help her to the living room, my husband stopped me:

“Let Mom lie here, it’s only one night. One night. The wedding night.”

I bitterly carried the pillow down to the sofa, not daring to react because of my fear of being branded “a new wife already rude”.

I tossed and turned all night, unable to sleep. It was almost morning when I finally fell asleep.

As I woke up, it was almost 6 o’clock. I went upstairs, intending to wake my husband up and go down to greet my maternal relatives.

I gently pushed the door open… and stood frozen.

My husband was lying with his back facing out. My mother-in-law was lying very close to him, on the same bed I had given up.

I approached, intending to wake him up. But as my eyes swept over the bedsheet, I suddenly stopped.

On the pure white sheet… there was a reddish-brown stain, lightly smeared like dried bl:ood.

I touched it — dry but still damp at the edge. And the smell… wasn’t the smell of alcohol.