I remember that day as if it were yesterday. I was 22 years old, full of dreams, ambitions and an uncertain future.
My family, going through serious financial difficulties, had no choice but to force me to marry this 60-year-old man – an arranged marriage, without passion, just to ensure our survival.
I had no other choice, and I accepted it silently, thinking it was for the good of my family. I married him, an older man who seemed gentle and calm. He didn’t seem kind and polite. But I didn’t know that everything would change that night.
On our wedding night, everything was quiet, too quiet. The atmosphere was heavy, the room was strangely still. I was afraid, but I didn’t dare say anything. I knew this marriage was just a sacrifice.
However, what he said to me that evening shook my whole perception of this man. He came up to me, his gaze was dark and deep, and he spoke in a low and almost solemn voice.
After his words, my heart stopped for a moment. I was so shocked that I didn’t know how to react, what to do.
He told me about a “family tradition” he had followed for, a ritual I was required to participate in that night, as if it were an inescapable obligation.
My hands began to shake and an icy cold pierced me.
How could a simple marriage, an act of survival for my family, turn into something so terrible? It was no longer just a compromise, but a secret I didn’t know about.
Then he looked at me deeply and said, “I know why you married me. Not out of love, but out of necessity, for the sake of your family.
“These words struck me like thunder. He knew everything about my situation, every sacrifice I had made. I felt an icy coldness, I couldn’t breathe.
He reassured me by saying that he was not offended by me. On the contrary, he respected this sacrifice.
But he added something even more disturbing: “This marriage, based on necessity, will be stronger than love. Purer. Without false pretenses.” He said I had to understand what this meant for both of us.
