My Mother-in-Law Demanded Proof of My Purity, So I Left

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The first time I went to my boyfriend's rural hometown, we'd barely stepped inside before his mother demanded to check that I was still pure.

"Brookie, come inside with me first and let me check you. Once the white cloth shows red, then we can settle the marriage."

His father stood off to the side, hands clasped behind his back, backing her up.

"We're a respectable family, and Wilfred Swanson's an educated boy. We're not letting him pick up shoes someone else already wore out."

I stared, speechless, and turned to Wilfred beside me.

"You agree with this too?"

Wilfred sighed, wearing the wounded look of a man who'd sacrificed so much for me.

"You just lie down in there for two minutes and it'll be over fast. I even begged them to use the thin probe for you."

"See how good I am to you? I actually talked back to my own mother for your sake. You wouldn't want to make me lose face, would you?"

I looked at that charitable expression on his face and let out a cold laugh.

"And if I refuse?"

His father hawked and spat on the ground.

"Refusing means you've got something to hide. Today I'll drag your name through the mud, and then let's see what decent man will still take you."

I looked at this family's shameless faces, and my fury curdled into a laugh.

"Fine, you can check me. But my family has a rule for meeting the in-laws too."

His mother glared at me with narrow, spiteful eyes. "What rule?"

"First visit, the groom's family gets slapped a hundred times for luck."

"It proves you've lived a clean life, and it beats the poverty out of your roots. Very auspicious."

...

His mother had looked at me like an eyesore from the moment I walked in, and this pushed her over the edge.

"Talking nonsense. Slapped for luck, my foot. Who do you think you are?"

"I always said these city seductresses have no shame, not one of them. Who knows how many men she's been through?"

His father stalked up in front of me, cold-faced, jabbing a finger at my nose as he cursed.

"You're a cheap piece who won't even ask for a bride price, and you dare talk back to your elders?"

I stepped back and bumped into Wilfred's chest, turning to look at him for help.

Three years together, and he'd always been the gentlest, most proper man, never once crossing a line with me.

He knew better than anyone how firmly I held to my chastity. I thought he'd step forward, say something, anything.

Instead, his face went livid, and he shoved my shoulder hard enough to send me stumbling.

"Brooklyn, what nonsense are you spouting?"

"My mother's teaching you the rules. Don't tell me you can't even accept a blessing like this?"

I caught the edge of the table and steadied myself, a rough wooden splinter slicing a cut across my palm.

"You want this blessing? Take it yourself. Wilfred, wake up. What century do you think this is?"

He curled his lip, and instead pulled out a chair, sat down, and crossed his legs.

"I never held your past relationships against you. My mother's doing this for your own good, so don't be difficult."

Then he put the wounded look back on his face.

"In exchange, I already swore to my mother that after we marry, you'll handle all the housework."

I glared at him. "Who gave you the right to decide for me?"

Wilfred snorted.

"Brooklyn, you don't know a good thing when you've got it."

"A big-company manager like me, pulling in five figures a month, taking an interest in you? That's luck you earned over eight lifetimes."

His mother chimed in from the side at once.

"Exactly. Look at what my Wilfred's got going for him. If you hadn't thrown yourself at him, would he ever have looked twice at you?"

Wilfred patted the top of my head.

"Once you pass the check we can get married. I already worked it out with my mother. From now on you can get up at six to cook."

"It was supposed to be five. See how good I am to you?"

I stared at that hypocritical face, and a wave of disgust rose in me.

To be sure he really liked me, the person, and wasn't after the Henson money,

I'd deliberately hidden where I came from.

I thought he was gentle, kind, a man who stood up for what mattered.

Only now did I understand it was nothing but an investment in a free maid.

"Wilfred, forget the marriage, it doesn't need settling. We're breaking up."

I turned and headed for the door.

I hadn't taken two steps before a crowd surged in through the courtyard gate.

Seven or eight middle-aged women, and a few big, thick-set men, packed the gateway solid.

"Oh, thinking of running? Three years of living off my Wilfred, and now you squeeze your legs shut and try to slip away?"

"She's probably been running loose out there. Scared of the check, that's why she's in such a hurry to bolt."

Wilfred yanked me back by force, his knuckles white with the grip, the pain sharp enough to make me suck in a breath.

"Today you get checked whether you want to or not."

He shouted toward the house.

"Mom, she agreed. Go ahead and get ready."

His mother carried an iron basin out from the inner room. The water in it looked clean enough.

But a blackened iron probe soaked inside it, its surface crusted with rust.

"Everybody lend a hand. Strip this ungrateful little thing and drag her in."

I fought with everything I had to wrench my arm free, watching the crowd close in around me.

And Wilfred, just to show his authority in front of the relatives, clamped a hand on my shoulder.

His other hand rose high in the air.