Our wedding is tomorrow. We both need to calm down. No, he interrupted.
We must resolve this now. Mom said, he faltered, realizing he had said too much. So it really comes from your mom? Ashley shook her head.
What did she say? Go on, tell me. John pressed his lips together, then decided to speak. Mom said that if you refuse to follow our family tradition, it would mean that you don’t respect our values.
And that in that case? In that case, you shouldn’t marry me, Ashley finished for him, feeling a chill spread through her. John didn’t answer, but his silence spoke louder than words. So you’re giving me an ultimatum? Ashley stated, either I transfer the apartment, or there’s no wedding.
I’m just asking you to respect my family’s traditions. John exclaimed, is it really that difficult? If you love me, you should understand. Ashley stood and walked to the window.
Outside, it was an ordinary day. People hurried along their business, cars passed by, the sun was shining. And here, in this room, something she had considered solid and real was crumbling.
You know what’s strange, John? She said without turning. In two years, you never once mentioned this important family tradition. Not once even hinted that you would demand I give up ownership of my apartment.
Why? Why now, the day before the wedding? She turned and saw John looking at the floor, avoiding her gaze. Maybe because you were afraid I’d refuse to marry you if I knew earlier? She continued, or because your mother decided that now, when everything is ready for the wedding, it would be harder for me to refuse. Tell me, John, whose idea was it to wait until the last moment? You’re misunderstanding everything, he mumbled.
It’s not some clever plan. It just happened. Happened? Ashley smiled bitterly.
Yesterday you were at mom’s, and today you suddenly remember the family tradition. Quite a convenient coincidence. John stood up sharply.
You know what? Let’s call mom. She can explain it better than I can. Without waiting for Ashley’s response, he pulled out his phone, dialed the number, and put it on speaker.
On the third ring, Dolores answered. Her voice sounded as if she had been expecting this call. Yes, dear, is everything alright? Mom, I’m talking with Ashley about our family tradition regarding property.
She doesn’t understand why it’s so important. Ashley opened her mouth to argue, but Dolores’s voice cut her off. There were tones in it she had never heard before, commanding, almost aggressive.
Ashley, dear, did John explain to you that in our family, men are responsible for all material things? It’s our tradition, followed for generations. I, too, once transferred my apartment to my husband, and nothing, we’ve lived happily for so many years. Excuse me, Ashley tried to stay polite, but times have changed.
There’s no need to follow such outdated customs. Besides, I spent years earning this apartment. Exactly, dear, Dolores’s voice turned sickly sweet.
You’ve already proven that you can earn. Now it’s time to prove that you can trust and love. All the wives in our family went through this.
If you really love my son, it shouldn’t be a problem for you. Ashley felt anger boiling inside her. This woman, whom she had seen only a few times in her life, was trying to manipulate her feelings, framing her refusal to transfer the apartment as proof of insufficient love.
Love and trust aren’t measured by your willingness to give away property, Ashley said firmly. And I think the real traditions of your family are mutual respect and care, not transferring ownership rights. Oh, such big words, Dolores’s voice turned mocking.
Mutual respect, care, and reality, you just don’t want to give in over a trifle. My sister-in-law resisted at first too, but then she understood that family is more important than material goods. And you know what? She’s been with her husband for 40 years, and she never regretted her decision.
Ashley looked at John, who sat with a look that made it clear this situation was unpleasant for him, but he couldn’t do anything about it, as if he were a witness rather than a participant in the conversation. Dolores, Ashley said, deciding to clarify things once and for all, honestly, this is your idea, to demand I transfer my apartment right before the wedding. There was a pause.
Then Dolores replied with unmistakable irritation. What? You think my son can’t make decisions for himself? He’s the head of the family, and he decides what’s best. I just reminded him of the traditions he apparently forgot, being so taken with your looks.
Dolores, am I wrong? You’re kneeling there begging her, and she’s turning her nose up. Are you a man or what? Put her in her place. Tell her that if she doesn’t transfer the apartment, there will be no wedding.
The wait for his reaction became the moment of truth. Whose side would he take? Support her right to manage her own property or side with his mother and her archaic demands? John looked up and met Ashley’s gaze. There was a strange expression in his eyes, a mix of uncertainty, shame, and something else she couldn’t quite identify.
Mom, we’ll call you back, he said, and without waiting for a reply, hung up. A heavy silence filled the room. Ashley expected John to apologize for his mother’s behavior, to say she was exaggerating the importance of this tradition, that it wasn’t really that important.
But he remained silent, staring at the darkened phone screen. Well, Ashley couldn’t hold back. What do you say? John looked at her.
To her surprise, there was determination in his eyes. Mom’s right, he said firmly. It’s our family tradition, and you must respect it.
If you love me, you’ll transfer the apartment. If not, maybe we shouldn’t get married. The words hit Ashley like a slap.
Everything fell into place. This wasn’t a sudden whim or an impulsive demand. It was a well-planned move, designed so that on the eve of the wedding, when everything was already prepared, invitations sent, and services paid for, she wouldn’t be able to refuse.
Ashley slowly sank onto the couch, feeling a strange calm. Now that the cards were on the table, it felt easier. Small details that she hadn’t paid attention to before came back to her mind.
How once John asked if she had fully paid off her mortgage, how carefully he had studied the apartment documents when she was looking for insurance policy, how his mother had critically inspected the apartment at their first meeting and asked how much it might be worth at current prices. Let’s make this clear, Ashley said calmly. You’re giving me an ultimatum, either I transfer the apartment to you, or there will be no wedding.
John flinched at the word ultimatum, but nodded. Yes. This is a matter of principle for me and my family.
Fine, Ashley stood up. I need time to think. This is a serious decision.
What time? Irritation crept into John’s voice. The wedding is tomorrow. We need to decide now.
We can go to the notary today. No, John, Ashley said firmly. I will not make such a decision under pressure.
I need to think it through. She headed toward the door, but John blocked her path. Where are you going? We’re not finished talking.
I’m going to the bedroom, Ashley replied calmly. I need to be alone. No.
He grabbed her hand. We’ll decide this right now. Ashley looked at his fingers gripping her wrist and suddenly realized she didn’t know this man at all.
The John she had lived with for almost a year had never behaved this way. He had been gentle, accommodating, always ready to compromise. But now standing before her was a completely different man with a hard gaze and authoritative manners.
Let go of me, she said quietly but firmly. Something in her voice made John obey. He unclenched his fingers and stepped back.
Sorry, he muttered. It’s just this is important to me. Ashley silently passed him and closed the bedroom door.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, she stared out the window, trying to organize her thoughts. From outside the door came John’s footsteps. He was pacing the living room, probably not knowing what to do next.
Ashley picked up her phone and opened Brittany’s contact, her best friend. She wanted to call, to tell her everything, to ask for advice, but then she put the phone down. No, this decision was hers alone.
Ashley lay down on the bed and closed her eyes. Snippets of thoughts, memories, and doubts swirled in her head. Two years of a relationship, one year living together, she had believed she knew John, understood him, shared his values.
And now it turned out that he had hidden important things from her or, worse, that they simply hadn’t mattered to him until his mother intervened. Other little things came to mind. How John hadn’t been very interested in her professional achievements, brushing them off with phrases like good job, keep it up, how he never asked about her career plans, how reluctantly he discussed having children, always redirecting the conversation to we need to get on our feet first.
And there had been other signs. Every time they met, Dolores emphasized that a woman’s main role was to create a cozy home for her husband and not interfere with his career ambitions. John’s father had always remained distant, as if somewhere far away, occasionally inserting a phrase like, whatever your mother says goes.
She remembered once when John remarked, it would be nice if after the wedding you cut back on your working hours to spend more time together. At the time, Ashley had seen it as a loving gesture, a desire to be close. Now, the comment took on a very different meaning.
Gradually, a picture formed in her mind, the apartment, her property perhaps he even genuinely loved her, but his mother, learning about the wedding, decided to help her son secure a material advantage. And he had been too weak to resist her influence. Or worse, it had been his plan from the start, to find a girl with her own apartment and marry her, taking possession of her property through marriage.
Ashley opened her eyes and sat on the bed. No, it was much simpler. It didn’t matter whether this was John’s original plan or his mother’s idea.
What mattered was that at the critical moment, he chose not her, but the apartment. He was willing to break a two-year relationship, cancel a wedding that had required so much effort and money, just to get the property. What kind of love was that? This was proof, she remembered something else.
John, constantly complaining about a lack of money, sent his mother a large sum every month for medicine and help. Yet Ashley had never once seen Dolores looking sick or in need. On the contrary, every time she met them, Dolores was perfectly groomed, with styled hair, manicured nails, and new clothes.
Ashley stood and walked over to the window. Outside, life went on as usual. People hurried about their business, unaware of the drama unfolding in her apartment.
Tomorrow was supposed to be the happiest day of her life, and yet now she faced a choice, give in to an absurd demand or break off the relationship on the eve of the wedding. There was a knock at the door. Ashley, John’s voice sounded conciliatory.
Maybe we can continue our conversation. I know this is unexpected for you, but let’s discuss everything calmly. Ashley took a deep breath and opened the door.