At my wedding, my MIL aggressively demanded my $5,000 monthly salary and all my bonuses, otherwise..

Engagement and Initial Reservations

My name is Betty Rachel, and I’m a 33-year-old. Currently, I’m engaged to Steven, a 35-year-old I met through a friend. After losing my mother at a young age, this loss deeply affected me, leading me to guard my emotions closely, which meant I rarely dated seriously.

My father took on the role of both parents, working tirelessly to provide for me. Concerned about my prolonged single status, he took on this role. Despite my initial reservations about Steven, his persistent care and respect gradually won me over.

He was always a gentleman, and over time, his unwavering support and kindness allowed me to open my heart. Dating him brought happiness back into my life, making him incredibly special to me. As my relationship with Steven deepened, I found myself imagining a future together forever.

When he proposed, it felt like the natural next step for us. Steven had always been incredibly understanding and kind, constantly reassuring me with his supportive words.

“Don’t worry if you’re ever feeling unsure about something, I’ll be here for you until you feel better. I love you, Betty, you can count on me,” he said.

His promises to make me happy warmed my heart profoundly, and I knew I wanted to offer him the same depth of care and commitment. When I shared the news of our engagement with my father, his reaction was one of overwhelming joy.

“Wow, Betty, you’re finally getting married! I’m so happy for you,” he exclaimed.

I playfully called him dramatic, which led to a touching conversation where he revealed his quiet fears of me never settling down. It was a moment that showed me just how deeply he cared.

Thanking my dad felt especially meaningful knowing he had raised me on his own. I anticipated that the wedding would be an emotional day for both of us, probably with more tears from him given how emotional he was.

With our engagement in place, Steven and I began the hectic journey of wedding planning. Balancing our demanding jobs with wedding preparations meant our weekends were packed and our schedules were bursting at the seams.

There was hardly any time to rest, but we managed, keeping our spirits high. A special moment was on the horizon: meeting Steven’s parents for the first time.

Although Steven had previously met my father shortly after he proposed, scheduling conflicts had delayed my introduction to his parents. Finally, a visit was arranged.

As we approached his parents’ house, I felt a surge of nervousness.

“Don’t worry, my parents are very kind,” he assured me, helping ease my anxiety as we stepped into what would be a significant new chapter in our lives together.

When I rang the doorbell at Steven’s family home, it was his mother who greeted us.

“Mom, I’m home,” Steven announced cheerfully.

She responded with a warm smile, “Welcome home, Steven, it’s so good of you to come”.

As she engaged in a light conversation with her son, I introduced myself politely.

“Nice to meet you, my name is Betty and I’m Steven’s fiancée,” I said.

Her demeanor changed subtly as she turned to me, her voice dropping a notch from the cheerful tone she used with Steven and her smile fading.

“So, you’re Betty,” she noted, giving me a thorough once over that felt more like a judgment than a greeting.

She then led us into the living room, where her cool attitude persisted.

“Betty, I’m curious about what you bring to the table. Steven is our treasure and our only child. If you’re going to marry him, you need to be a suitable wife. Are you worthy of him?” she asked, her tone sharp, making the question feel like an interrogation.

I was taken aback by the unexpected harshness from my future mother-in-law and struggled to find words.

“You’re going to join our family, you know. Are you ready for that?” she continued.

Her words implied a weight of expectation that seemed disproportionate. After all, I wasn’t marrying into a Royal or famously distinguished family. Why such a heavy commitment was expected just because I was marrying her son puzzled me.

As I pondered how to respond to her pressing questions, she grew impatient with my silence and snapped.

“When I ask you a question, answer me right away. You’re so rude,” her voice rose with intensity, pushing for an immediate response.

Despite feeling overwhelmed, I managed to respond, “I hope that Steven and I will support each other throughout our marriage”.

This did not satisfy her.

“What a naive thing to say. You aren’t just going to support each other, you’re supposed to support Steven. It’s your job as a wife to support your husband. You don’t even understand the basics,” she criticized harshly.

At this point, Steven’s father, who had been quietly observing the exchange, stepped in.

“Honey, calm down,” he interjected gently.

Turning to me, he apologized, “Sorry about that, Betty. You must have been startled by my wife’s words,” he said, attempting to diffuse the tension with a calm demeanor.

As I tried to remain composed, I reminded myself that Steven’s mother was fiercely protective of her only son. Perhaps her sharp words were just nerves speaking out of turn.

Just then, Steven’s brother entered the room, his demeanor quiet, calm, and gentle. His presence momentarily soothed the tense atmosphere. However, this brief respite vanished when he, with a disarming smile, voiced his support for his mother’s harsh words.

“What concerns me the most is that you come from a single parent family,” he remarked.

Confused, I asked, “What do you mean by that?”.

“Being raised by just one parent doesn’t have a good public image. We can’t be too happy to have such a person become the wife of our only son, can we?” he explained.

“Hold on a minute,” I interjected, unable to let his comment pass unchallenged. “What is wrong with being raised by a single parent? My father worked very hard to raise me by himself. I am very thankful for my upbringing and proud of my father. Being raised by a single parent doesn’t make me any less valuable.”

Yet they continued to argue.

“Since you were missing one parent, you couldn’t have learned how to be a good wife, do housework and such,” they claimed.

I responded firmly, “I did a lot of housework to help my father. I can also cook pretty well, so please don’t say that.”

Despite my rebuttal, Steven’s mother ignored my words and finally stated, “I will allow you to marry Steven, but in exchange, you must promise to vote everything to us because we are Steven’s parents. Can you promise me that?”.

I was taken aback by her demands.

“What?” I asked.

“Since you came here to ask for our permission to marry our son, you do know what your duties are, don’t you?”.

Before I could articulate more, he continued the conversation, making it clear that my in-laws were dominating the discussion, leaving little room for me to express my views.

That night, as I reflected on the marriage, I realized how much this conversation had affected me. The evening had been overwhelming, and it prompted deep thoughts about the dynamics I was about to enter into with Steven’s family.

Feeling the weight of our recent visit with Steven’s parents, I decided it was important to discuss my feelings with him.

“Steven, do your parents always talk to people like that?” I asked, hoping for some insight or support.

Steven seemed unaffected by the question.

“What about it?” he replied, clearly not seeing the issue.

I continued, trying to clarify my concerns, “Well, I mean, the way your parents spoke to me and what they said”.

“Oh, really? Well, they were just talking about whether you were ready for this marriage,” he responded nonchalantly.

I understood that Steven’s parents were concerned about their son’s future, but their approach felt excessive.

“I get that your parents are worried, but what they felt like too much,” I pointed out.

“Really? Why is that? My parents didn’t say anything wrong. Besides, they’ve permitted us to get married, so don’t worry about it,” he reassured me.

His response troubled me; it seemed he was more aligned with his parents’ views than with understanding my feelings. Perhaps sensing my unease, Steven hugged me.

“Betty, you don’t have to worry so much. My parents are just a bit upset because their only son is getting married,” he explained.

Though his words felt like he didn’t fully grasp my concerns, he added, “It’s all going to be fine. Don’t overthink it. I’m sure they just want what’s best for us. They want us to be as good of a couple as they are. That’s why they were a bit harsh”.

“Oh,” I replied somewhat skeptically.

Steven seemed to think his parents’ high expectations were normal, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that it wasn’t right for them to diminish me simply because I was raised by a single parent. I didn’t believe that people who expressed such views were truly supportive partners.

We are the ones getting married and we should be the focus, not their approval or disapproval, I thought to myself. While still upset, I decided not to dwell too much on his opinions.