On my wedding night, I had to give up my bed to my drunk mother-in-law: the next morning, I walked into the room and saw something terrible on the sheets 

The wedding was over, and my husband and I went to the bridal suite.

I couldn’t wait to take off my dress, wash off my makeup, and finally be alone with my husband. Everything felt magical — until we heard a persistent knock at the door.

When my husband opened it, his mother was standing there — drunk, barely on her feet, slurring her words, her eyes unfocused.

She mumbled something incoherent, walked past us, and without saying a word, lay down right on our bed, among the rose petals, and immediately fell asleep.

I stood there in shock. My husband tried to wake her, shook her gently by the shoulder, but she didn’t respond.

— Maybe you could sleep in the next room; there’s a little sofa there, — he said awkwardly, glancing at me. — I’ll stay with Mom, in case she feels sick…

— This isn’t how I imagined our wedding night, — I whispered.

— I know, I’m sorry… but she’s my mother.

I nodded silently and left. I lay awake all night on the sofa, unable to close my eyes, thinking — about the wedding, about us, about how absurd everything had turned out.

In the morning, I opened the door to our bedroom — and froze… On the sheets there were…  To be continued in the first comment 

As soon as I entered, I smelled the heavy scent of alcohol mixed with perfume. The room was a mess — pillows on the floor, my mother-in-law’s dress half fallen off, and on the snow-white sheets were dark stains.

I stepped closer and froze. It was blood. Not much, but enough to make my heart drop.

— Mom! — my husband shouted, rushing in after me. — Mom, are you all right?

My mother-in-law groaned softly and tried to sit up. Her face was pale, her lips dry. My husband helped her sit while I stood motionless, not knowing where to look.

— What… is that? — I asked quietly.

My husband looked at the sheet and turned white as chalk.

— Looks like… she might have fallen somewhere, maybe cut herself, I don’t know…

He examined her hands and saw a small but bleeding cut on her palm. She must have hurt herself on a piece of glass while trying to find her way to us.

Still confused, my mother-in-law mumbled:
— I… didn’t mean to bother you… I just couldn’t find my room…

I stood there in silence. All my expectations for that first night — the romance, the warmth, the tenderness — had shattered, like the rose petals scattered on the floor.

Later, when my husband helped his mother change and settle into another room, I went back to ours. The stained sheets lay crumpled on the floor, and the smell of alcohol and blood filled the air.

I thought: so this is marriage. A test — from the very first day.