Chapter 2: House Rules and Rebellion

The motorcade drove for over half an hour before finally reaching my brother-in-law’s home. The drive was silent, the kind of thick, stifling quiet that made every breath feel heavy. The tension felt like a storm gathering on the horizon.

His aunts and uncles were already there, forming a tight circle around the cars. Their faces were unreadable, watching us with a mix of curiosity and suspicion. I caught the faint scent of mothballs and tobacco as we stepped out.

My sister got out of the car in front of me, and her soon-to-be mother-in-law came right over. I thought she’d say something nice, but instead she handed over a thick stack of papers. The bundle was heavy, the pages yellowed with age, the edges curled and brittle.

“These are our family’s house rules. Every daughter-in-law has to memorize them and be able to recite them.” Her voice was cold, rehearsed, as if this was the most normal thing in the world. Her eyes never left my sister’s face, daring her to protest.

My sister took them, confused, and looked at her husband-to-be. Her hands trembled, the papers rustling. I could see her knuckles turning white as she clutched the stack.

He gave an awkward smile. “It’s not that much. You can memorize it in a month.” He tried to sound encouraging, but the words fell flat. I could hear the uncertainty in his voice.

“That’s right. If you can’t recite it, you can’t be our daughter-in-law,” his mom said, her tone dripping with sarcasm. She crossed her arms, daring my sister to argue. The challenge was clear in her posture.

But my sister, who’d been pampered her whole life, wasn’t about to take this lying down. Her chin lifted, defiance flashing in her eyes. I felt a surge of pride at her backbone.

She threw the house rules right back. “Sorry, my memory’s not great. Besides, I’m not here to recite rules!” The papers fluttered to the ground, scattering across the porch. The sound of them hitting the wood was sharp, final.

Her reaction immediately angered her in-laws, who scolded her for disrespecting family tradition on her wedding day. Their voices rose, sharp and judgmental, bouncing off the porch pillars.

Other locals, just as old-fashioned, joined in, lecturing my sister. The porch buzzed with disapproval, a low, grumbling chorus that made my skin crawl.

I walked over, picked up the house rules, and quieted everyone down. My presence alone was enough to make them pause. I stood tall, letting my silence do the talking.

Ignoring the parents’ glares, I flipped to the middle of the thick packet. The pages were filled with dense, old-fashioned language—half of it barely made sense. I shook my head, wondering if even they understood what they were demanding.

My sister’s mother-in-law started to look uncomfortable, her eyes darting around. She shifted her weight from foot to foot, lips pressed tight.

I snorted and held up the rules. “Ma’am, what does Article 8 on page 21 say?” I made sure my voice carried, challenging her in front of everyone. I watched her face blanch, the confidence draining away.

She hesitated, mumbling that she was old and couldn’t remember. Her cheeks flushed, and she looked away. The silence was damning.

I sneered, tossing the house rules into the still-smoldering remains of the backyard firecrackers. The flames caught quickly, curling the pages to ash. The paper crackled, the smell acrid in the air.

“Looks like not every daughter-in-law really has to memorize this stuff, huh?” I said it loud enough for the whole crowd to hear. My voice was clear, ringing out in the morning air.

My brother-in-law’s dad rushed to fish it out, but it was already burning. He fumbled, then forced a smile at me, trying to save face. His hands shook as he brushed at the embers.

“Forget it, forget it. If she doesn’t want to memorize it, that’s fine. It’s just an old custom, haha.” His laughter was hollow, brittle, echoing off the porch.

I let out a short, mocking laugh.

“Right, sir, you’re the reasonable one. If these rules actually worked, you wouldn’t have all these backward customs, right, bro-in-law?” I shot him a cold look, daring him to contradict me. My eyes narrowed, waiting for his response.

He froze, about to nod, but caught sight of his mother’s scowl and fell silent. His shoulders slumped, defeated. I saw his hands clench at his sides.

My sister jabbed his arm. “Say something!” Her voice was sharp, desperate for support. I heard the tremor in her words.

He stammered, “Let’s just get on with the ceremony. We don’t want to miss the ‘perfect time.’” He looked everywhere but at her, eyes darting to the ground.

I thought to myself, what a mama’s boy. How is my sister supposed to have a good life in a family like this? The thought twisted in my gut, cold and heavy.

My sister was just as upset, biting her lip in disappointment. Her hands clenched at her sides, knuckles white. I could see the tension in her posture.

She shook off his arm and demanded, “Today you need to tell me: are these house rules just backward customs or not?” Her voice was steady, but her eyes were pleading. The hope and fear in her gaze made my heart ache.

I was proud of her for standing up for herself. If you let people push you around at your own wedding, you’ll never get respect. She was learning that the hard way. I wished she didn’t have to.

This time, my brother-in-law was smart enough not to look at his mom. He nodded hard. “They’re backward customs. We should get rid of them!” His voice was shaky, but at least he spoke up. I saw the sweat bead on his brow.

Then he stomped on the burned remains of the house rules. Ash scattered, carried away by the wind. The black flakes drifted across the porch, settling in the cracks.

We could all tell he was angry, but not for my sister’s sake—he was mad at her for making him take a stand. His jaw was tight, eyes hard. He wouldn’t look at anyone.

I went over and whispered to my sister, “Maybe you shouldn’t go through with this. His family—and he himself—don’t seem up to it.” My words were soft, but the warning was clear. I felt the weight of them settle between us.

She pressed her lips together, thinking for a while before saying, “Let’s just see how it goes.” Her voice was barely a whisper, but she sounded determined. I caught a glint of steel in her eyes.