Never Marry Someone without Your Parents'Blessings

I was an only child from a first-tier city, raised in a well-off family. My parents spared no expense in nurturing me, but they forgot to teach me about the treachery of human hearts.

A wrong marriage nearly destroyed my entire family.

1

I met Jace Reese at university. I only knew his family wasn't well-off; he always chose the cheapest meals in the cafeteria.

But I liked him, and not just for his looks.

He had a unique scholarly air, always spoke gently, never lost his temper, and stayed calm in any situation-unlike other guys.

We dated for four years. When graduation neared and talk of marriage came up, Jace grew evasive.

He said my parents would surely look down on him.

I swore repeatedly that wouldn't happen, vowing to stand by him no matter what my parents said.

After much persuasion, Jace reluctantly agreed.

For this meeting, I secretly bought him new clothes and shoes, along with gifts and supplements my parents liked, planning to say they were from him.

But Jace refused them. He insisted on wearing his usual clothes, which annoyed me.

I said, "Dressing nicely for the first meeting shows respect for my parents. This feels too careless."

He only changed into the new clothes after sensing I was genuinely upset.

The meeting went as expected. My parents were polite on the surface, but we all knew they didn't approve of Jace.

I only just learned that Jace's father had passed away and that he had three older sisters.

When I told my best friend, she urged me to break up.

She said, "How does he have three older sisters in such a poor economic condition? That family must have kept trying for a boy. They clearly favor sons. And Fern, don't you think Jace might be one of those ambitious guys from humble roots?"

Her words irritated me. I had seen how Jace treated me over the years-he was truly good to me, better than I could've asked.

I thought that as long as we lived our own lives after marriage, and his sisters and mother didn't interfere too much, everything would be fine.

After graduation, I lied to my parents about going on a trip and followed Jace to his hometown without hesitation. We got our marriage certificate at the county office before even stepping into his home.

Jace said, "Fern, you're not like those materialistic girls who demand gifts. I'll make you happy."

I believed him, right up until I walked into his house.

I never imagined that in the 21st century, such impoverished places still existed.

His home had just three rooms. One served as a living room, crammed with mismatched furniture and an old, bulky television. The dining table held leftover food, with flies buzzing around.

I glanced at some unidentifiable dish and nearly gagged.

One room was for his mother, another was Jace's-our new room. His three sisters had long since married and moved out.

Jace was visibly embarrassed. He knew my reaction but pretended not to, introducing me to his mother and curious neighbors.

His mother, a quintessential rural woman, was barely in her fifties but looked older than my seventy-something grandmother, worn out from frequent childbirth and overwork.

I pitied her then, thinking she'd never had a day of ease, and vowed to treat her well.

Neighbors praised me as a cultured, pretty city girl and commended Jace for marrying without spending a dime.

Looking back, I was such a fool. I was sold out and still naively counted the money for them.

After two days at Jace's house, I couldn't take it anymore. Mosquito bites? I slathered on repellent. Unfamiliar food? I ate less or skipped meals. But the worst was their outhouse. I won't describe it, but thinking about it still made me nauseous.

Then there were the daily visitors, gawking at me like I was a zoo animal, commenting on me in their local dialect as if I wasn't a person but some trophy Jace brought home.

Two days later, I couldn't stand it. I pleaded with Jace to stay at a county hotel.

He coldly shook off my hand and said, "This is where I grew up. If you really love me, you'll love all of me."