The Custom Of The Country

In Hollow Creek, there was an old custom: if you turned thirty and still were not married, the community chair would arrange for you to come home and meet potential matches. When I told Marcus about it, he laughed coldly. “What kind of backwoods tradition is that supposed to be? “Constance, I said I would marry you, and I will. But pressuring me is something else.” Then he took out the ring and casually handed it to Hannah. She accepted it with a blush. “I was going to propose,” he said. “But since you want to act like this, maybe we should cool off for a while.” The ring I had waited years for was handed to someone else like it meant nothing. For a moment, I just stood there, stunned. Marcus walked out of my office with an easy confidence, the corner of his mouth lifted in a victorious smile. Hannah held the ring out to me. I did not take it. “Keep it,” I said. “Wasn’t it meant for you anyway? “You wear it. It suits you.” Her face went pale. I showed her to the door. Before closing it, I said, “Tell Mr. Vale that he and I are done.”

The first born son of the Laird to the largest clan on the boarder is one of three identical triplets. But nobody really knows which one was born first! So who will rule? The king will decide. Or will he? To keep peace in the highlands and unite the boarder lands the king feels all three men must have a clan to rule. Since all three are unwed, he chooses brides for them that will result in each of the triplets having a clan to rule and a wife to create heirs with. Assuming the laird named his first son after himself, the king weds Griogair to the second daughter of the clan to the west. He and Eliana would stay on MacInnis land, uniting it through marriage with the MacDonald clan that stretched from their boarder to the west coast. He wed the remaining brothers to clans that had only women as direct heirs. Padraig to the widow Fraiser and Alasdair to the young Isobel whose father owned the land on the east coast. But the men have other ideas. This is a game the men have played since they were small. Padraig tosses a silver coin and his brother's nod, instantly swapping identities as smoothly as taking a step. Will anyone notice they have each chosen their own wife? Just as nobody knows which son was first born, few can tell them apart. Certainly not the emissary or clergy sent by the king! But when the truth comes to light, will it all unravel?

When I prepared to marry my boyfriend, his mother gifted us a brand-new house. But to my surprise, my future sister-in-law—who'd married into the family ten years before me—just up and moved into my new home. She stood there like she owned the place and announced, "Why should you get the new house? Both our husbands are sons of this family. How can they play favorites like this?" The truth is, when she got married, my future in-laws had given them a house of equal value too. It's just that ten years had passed, and their once-new home had simply grown old. My future mother-in-law just wiped her tears, clearly torn, but she didn't say a word. So I smiled and agreed to switch houses with my future sister-in-law. But she didn't stop there. "I've taken care of Mom for ten years," she said. "I spend no less than five thousand dollars on her every year. That's fifty thousand over ten years. You two should split that cost with us—just give me twenty-five thousand." The truth was, my future mother-in-law had spent those ten years helping them raise their kid, even draining her own pension into their household. I turned to look at her. Still, she said nothing. What they didn't know was that James Carter and I hadn't even filed our marriage license yet. They'd shown their true colors way too soon. As far as I was concerned, I wasn't setting one foot into that family anymore. And I swore that I'd turn their whole house upside down.

Every year, the village had to choose a girl of age to become the Blossom Bride. The girl who was chosen would be sent into the cave as the village god’s wife. She would spend the entire night with him. If she came out alive, she would be honored for the rest of her life as a village elder. Any child she bore was said to be blessed, destined for a life of effortless fortune. If she died, the village would simply wait for the next year, when another Blossom Bride would be chosen. The blessing of the Blossom Bride was believed to pass on to her parents and elders as well. However, no one wanted to be chosen. To escape the ritual, families quietly left the village, one after another. I was the only one who volunteered. I had a lust problem, and I had always wondered what it would feel like to be with a god.

Rule 1: Don’t fall in love with me Rule 2- Don’t touch my things Rule 3: This is not your home, don’t decorate/ change anything Rule 4: Stay out of my Business Rule 5: Don’t ever be seen in public with another man. Rule 6: Don’t touch me. Rule 7: Don’t ever enter my room You know the things about Contract Marriage, they come with rules right? Rules are meant to be broken, but that's just my thoughts. My 6’5 husband, the epitome of irresistible allure and captivating mystery prefers I follow his rules while he's all busy. But the thing is, we both needed this marriage so why should it be His rules? I mean I know I got my own rules and I'll be damn if he doesn't follow them just as I do his. Even I know how to dress up and look good. Now he's thrown into the corner with my rules, it's a battle he intends on winning but tough shit cause so do I. But those are not the only rules that should not be broken, is it? The rules of the heart cannot be obey and Dammit if he doesn't make me swoon but this is our Marriage, Our rules.

"I didn’t know I was marrying two people. He wore the suit, but she pulled the strings. The day I walked down the aisle, eyes locked with the man I loved, I thought I had found peace. I thought I was finally leaving behind the noise of my childhood, the ache of loneliness, and the years I spent praying for a love that would choose me, only me. But no one told me that some men never truly leave their mothers. They marry, yes,but their hearts remain tangled in an invisible umbilical cord, one that stretches past vows, past bedrooms, past boundaries. I moved into our new home, only to find that the walls had ears, hers. We lived in separate flats, but it never truly felt like my space. My marriage was a room she walked into, uninvited but ever present. Her opinions dripped into our arguments, her eyes followed me from behind lace curtains, and her voice echoed in decisions that should have belonged to me and my husband. At first, I kept quiet. I told myself it was cultural. Respect. Family. Then I told myself it was temporary. Then I stopped telling myself anything at all, because nothing I said made a difference. This is not a story of hate. It’s a story of love, tested by bloodlines, boundaries, and a battle I never asked to fight. This is my truth. The marriage I thought was mine. The home that never really felt like home. And the rules I never agreed to, but had to live by, simply because… I was under her roof".