I married the man I loved, from a wealthy family, but after the first wedding night I was forced to take a bath with hot red chili peppers: this went on for almost a month, and one day I decided to find out the reason for this strange ritual — and I was absolutely horrified 
I grew up in a very ordinary family, where there was neither luxury nor much money, but there was the most important thing — warmth and sincerity. So when he appeared in my life — confident, attentive, from a rich and respected family — it felt like a fairy tale that was impossible to believe.
He wasn’t cold or arrogant; on the contrary — caring, calm, always by my side. His parents also seemed perfect to me at first. Polite, reserved, with noble manners. His mother especially smiled at me often, as if she already considered me part of the family.
The wedding was luxurious. A huge house, elegant guests, music, lights — everything like in the movies. I remember looking at him that evening and thinking how incredibly lucky I was.
But after the first wedding night, everything changed.
Late at night, when my husband was already sleeping peacefully, the door to our room quietly opened. At first, I thought I imagined it, but his mother was standing in the doorway. Her face was calm, but there was something cold and чужое in that calmness.
— Come with me, quickly, — she said softly.
I didn’t argue. Everything in that house felt unfamiliar, and I tried not to take unnecessary steps without permission. We walked silently down a long corridor and stopped at the bathroom.
When the door opened, I froze.
In the middle of the room stood a large wooden bathtub. It was filled with water, and the entire surface was covered with hot red chili peppers. There were so many that the water was barely visible. The sharp, pungent smell immediately hit my nose.
I looked at my mother-in-law in confusion.
— Get in, — she said calmly.
I didn’t immediately realize she was serious.
— With your clothes on. And stay there for fifteen minutes.
Everything inside me tightened.
— Why?.. — I asked quietly.
She looked at me without a smile.
— If you want to stay in this family — do as you’re told.
There was no shouting or threat in her voice. Only cold certainty.
I understood that if I refused now, everything could end that very night. A scandal, shame, divorce — and it would affect not only me but my parents as well.
I slowly walked toward the bathtub.
When I stepped into the water, it felt like my skin was on fire. The burning was immediate, sharp, unbearable. I clenched my teeth to keep from screaming. Tears ran down my face on their own.
A servant stood nearby. I noticed how she silently added more pepper into the water.
— Why am I doing this?.. — I barely managed to say.
But no one answered. Fifteen minutes passed like an eternity.
The next day, it all repeated. And then again.
Every night. As soon as my husband fell asleep after our intimacy, the door quietly opened, and I was taken there again.
I tried to talk to him during the day, but he seemed to notice nothing. He smiled, hugged me, asked how I was feeling. And in those moments, it felt like maybe it was all just a nightmare.
But the night brought me back to reality.
A month. A whole month of pain, humiliation, and fear. My body no longer had time to recover. I stopped feeling like a human being. I became part of some чужой, incomprehensible ritual.
And one day, I couldn’t take it anymore.
That evening, when it was over, I quietly approached the servant — the same one who stood there every night in silence.
I gave her money. Everything I had.
— Tell me the truth, — I whispered. — Why is all this happening?
She stayed silent for a long time, looking around. Then she quietly said something that made everything inside me turn cold. Where have I ended up… I told the continuation of the story in the first comment 
— In their family, they believe… that the first blood and the first child must be “purified.” That if this ritual is not performed… the firstborn will be a girl. And they want a boy.
My breath caught.
— And if I don’t do it?..
She looked at me with pity.
— Then… you won’t stay in this house. There were others before you.
At that moment, everything fell into place.
His care. His calmness. His “perfect” family. It was all just a façade. My husband knew. He simply allowed it to happen.
That night, I didn’t go back to the bedroom.
I quietly packed my things. No tears, no hysteria. I had no strength left for fear or pain.
Only one feeling — a cold, clear realization.
To them, I was not a wife. Not a loved woman. I left the house before dawn. No one stopped me.
And only when the gates closed behind me did I finally, for the first time in a long time, breathe freely.
