I had to give up my bed to my inebriated mother-in-law on my wedding night because when I entered the room the next morning, I noticed something awful on the bedding 
After the wedding, my spouse and I proceeded to the bridal suite.
I was eager to remove my clothing, remove my makeup, and spend some time with my spouse alone. Before we heard a constant knock at the door, everything seemed fantastic.
His mother was standing there, inebriated, hardly able to stand, slurring her words, her eyes blurry, as my husband opened it.
After mumbling something unintelligible, she passed us and, without a word, lay down on our bed, surrounded by rose petals, and fell asleep right away.
I was stunned as I stood there. She didn’t react when my husband gently shook her by the shoulder in an attempt to rouse her.
He looked at me nervously and added, “Maybe you could sleep in the next room; there’s a little sofa there.” “I’ll stay with Mom, in case she feels sick.”
I muttered, “This isn’t how I imagined our wedding night.”
I apologize, but she is my mother.
I gave a faint nod and walked away. Unable to sleep, I spent the entire night on the couch thinking about the wedding, about us, and about how ridiculous everything had become.
When I opened our bedroom door in the morning, I froze. On the sheets, there were… 
I detected the strong aroma of perfume and booze as soon as I walked in. The room was in disarray, with dark stains on the snow-white sheets, pillows on the floor, and my mother-in-law’s clothing partially off.
I took a step forward and stopped. Blood was involved. A little, but enough to break my heart.
— Mom! My husband hurried in behind me and yelled, “Mom, are you okay?”
With a quiet groan, my mother-in-law attempted to sit up. Her lips were dry and her face was pallid. While I stood still, unsure of where to look, my husband assisted her in sitting.
— What is that? Quietly, I asked.
When he saw the sheet, my spouse became completely white.
It appears that she may have fallen and cut herself, but I’m not sure.
When he looked at her hands, he noticed a little, gushing cut on her palm. While attempting to find her way to us, she must have injured herself on a piece of glass.
My mother-in-law, still perplexed, muttered:
— I simply couldn’t find my room. I didn’t mean to disturb you.
I remained silent while I stood there. Like the rose petals on the floor, all of my hopes for that first night had been dashed: the romance, the warmth, the sensitivity.
I returned to our room after my husband had assisted his mother in changing and settling into a different one. The floor was covered in crumpled sheets, and the air was heavy with the stench of blood and booze.
So this is marriage, I thought. From the first day, a test.
