Chapter 2 - THE KNOT HE WASN'T SUPPOSED TO TIE
"Don't touch me again!"
I scrambled backward so quickly that my elbow struck the wooden headboard.
Ernest froze with his hand still extended.
The red cord hung between his fingers.
For one terrible second, nobody moved.
Then my father-in-law frowned.
"There's no need to carry on like that."
I stared at him.
"You're in my wedding bed at three in the morning, reaching for me while I'm trying to sleep. What exactly would you call an appropriate reaction?"
Daniel pushed himself upright.
"What's happening?"
"Your father was touching my back."
Ernest made an impatient sound.
"I was trying to complete the blessing."
"What blessing?"
"The bride must wear the cord before sunrise."
I looked at Daniel.
He closed his eyes.
And that tiny movement told me something important.
There was more.
Much more.
"Daniel," I said, "look at me."
He opened his eyes reluctantly.
"What is that cord supposed to do?"
"It's symbolic."
"Then explain the symbol."
Ernest answered before his son could speak.
"The bride wears it around her waist. Three knots. One for the father, one for the husband, and one for the son who will carry our name."
I felt something inside me go cold.
"You were going to tie that around me while I was asleep?"
"Your husband agreed."
I turned toward Daniel.
"Did you?"
He stared at the blanket.
"Daniel!"
"Yes," he whispered.
The word seemed to suck every bit of air from the room.
I'd known Daniel for almost three years.
He brought me soup when I was sick.
He remembered my mother's birthday.
He cried when he proposed beneath the oak trees at Forsyth Park.
And now he was sitting beside me, admitting that he'd given another man permission to touch me while I slept.
I climbed out of bed.
"I'm leaving."
Ernest stood immediately.
"Not before the ceremony is completed."
He wasn't shouting.
That made it worse.
He spoke as though I were an employee trying to leave before finishing a shift.
"Move," I told him.
He remained beside the bed.
Daniel got up.
"Mari, please. We can talk about this."
"We've had all evening to talk. You chose not to."
I reached for my suitcase.
Ernest sighed.
"You're making a terrible mistake."
I spun around.
"The mistake was believing your son would protect me."
For the first time, Daniel looked genuinely wounded.
But Ernest merely folded the cord over his palm.
"You don't understand what is at stake."
"Then tell me."
He hesitated.
Behind him, the clock read 3:08.
Finally, Ernest said something I hadn't expected.
"Your marriage isn't the only thing that depends on tonight."
Daniel's face drained of color.
"Dad. Stop."
Ernest ignored him.
"Your husband has responsibilities that existed long before he met you."
"What responsibilities?"
"Family responsibilities."
I laughed, but nothing about it felt funny.
"You're talking about having a grandson."
"I'm talking about preserving something my father worked his entire life to build."
Daniel crossed the room.
"Dad, let me handle this."
"Your handling of things is why we're in this position."
The two men stared at each other.
There was no affection in that look.
Only fear.
I suddenly realized that Daniel wasn't merely trying to please his father.
He was frightened of him.
And somehow, that frightened me even more.
I grabbed my phone.
Daniel reached toward me.
I stepped away.
"Don't."
His hand dropped.
"I'm calling my mother."
Ernest's expression changed.
"There's no reason to involve outsiders."
"My mother isn't an outsider."
"She's not part of this family."
"Neither am I, apparently."
I dialed.
My mother answered on the fourth ring.
"Mari? Honey? Is everything okay?"
I tried to speak.
But my throat tightened.
"Mom, I need you."
Her voice changed immediately.
"Where are you?"
"In the suite."
"I'm coming."
I ended the call.
Ernest looked toward Daniel.
"You've allowed her to turn a private family matter into a spectacle."
"No," I said. "You did that when you brought your pillow into my bedroom."
He moved toward the dresser.
I instinctively backed away.
But he wasn't approaching me.
He was reaching for a small leather case that I hadn't noticed beside Daniel's wedding jacket.
Ernest opened it.
Inside lay a silver pocket watch, a folded yellowed paper, and a photograph.
He lifted the photograph.
"This is my father and mother on their wedding night."
I didn't want to look.
But curiosity betrayed me.
The picture showed a young couple sitting stiffly on an old-fashioned bed.
Between them sat an older man.
The woman wore a pale dress.
Her expression was strangely vacant.
And around her waist, clearly visible against the fabric, was a thin dark ribbon.
A red cord.
I stared at the picture.
"You actually photographed this?"
"Every firstborn son in our family has undergone the blessing."
"Then why does she look terrified?"
Ernest's mouth tightened.
"People smiled differently in those days."
I studied the woman's face.
There was something about her eyes.
She wasn't looking at the camera.
She was looking toward someone standing outside the frame.
As though waiting to be rescued.
I reached for the photograph.
Ernest pulled it away.
"Family property."
"Then keep it."
I turned toward the door.
Daniel suddenly spoke.
"Mari, wait."
His voice cracked.
"There's something I should've told you."
I stopped.
Ernest snapped the leather case shut.
"Daniel, I strongly advise you—"
"No, Dad."
Daniel was trembling.
I'd never seen him tremble before.
He looked at me with tears gathering in his eyes.
"When I was twelve, my mother tried to leave this family."
The room went still.
Daniel's mother, Evelyn, had died when he was fourteen.
He'd always told me it was a sudden illness.
I'd never questioned it.
"Why did she want to leave?" I asked.
Daniel swallowed.
"Because of what happened after her wedding."
Ernest stepped forward.
"Enough."
Daniel kept looking at me.
"She told me that if I ever got married, I should never let my wife wear the red cord."
I stared at him.
"Then why did you?"
His answer was barely audible.
"Because Dad said if we didn't complete the ceremony tonight, he'd make sure we lost everything."
Before I could respond, my mother's voice sounded from the hallway.
"Mari?"
I rushed to the door and opened it.
She stood there wearing a cardigan over her pajamas, her gray hair loosely tied back.
She took one look at my face.
Then she saw Ernest beside the bed.
His pillow.
His blanket.
The cord.
My mother's expression changed in a way I had never seen.
Not confusion.
Recognition.
She stepped into the room.
"Ernest," she said quietly, "tell me that isn't Evelyn's cord."
He stiffened.
"You need to leave."
My mother ignored him.
Her eyes stayed fixed on the red thread.
Then she looked at me.
"Mari, sweetheart, I need you to answer one question."
May you like
"What?"
"Did he manage to tie the third knot?"
