My Husband's Groomsmen

Just before my highly anticipated wedding, my husband's two groomsmen barged into the dressing room.

The bridesmaid had already been subdued by them.

They said they wanted to perform their hometown's pre-wedding ritual for me.

They took explicit photos of me.

They forced me to attend the wedding without underwear.

This should have been the happiest moment of any woman's life.

Yet I could only weep helplessly.

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Before today, I never imagined there would be black men at my wedding.

In the private karaoke room, watching my boyfriend Liam singing loudly with a black man felt deeply uncomfortable.

The other black man wasn't watching the screen.

He kept speaking in a language I couldn't understand.

He frequently glanced at me with a lecherous smirk.

I disliked it intensely.

I had come to pick up Liam today.

He had been working as a project manager in Africa for a year.

He returned to marry me and hold our wedding.

I deliberately wore a bodycon dress, black stockings, and high heels to surprise him.

This outfit, combined with my light makeup, accentuated my perfect figure.

Not exaggerating, any man would have reacted to seeing me like this.

In my plan, after meeting we could quickly go to a hotel to express our longing.

I even wore lingerie underneath.

Unexpectedly, two black men disembarked from the plane with him.

After landing, Liam said he needed to show them a good time.

He texted me explanations during the ride.

These were his black colleagues from Africa.

They were supposedly sons of chiefs or tribal leaders there.

They controlled substantial labor forces and held local influence.

I mustn't discriminate against them.

I should tolerate any unusual habits or behaviors.

He said Africans had different views on marriage.

Many men had dozens of wives, sometimes forgetting them all.

Thus they behaved more liberally.

I should be careful.

Liam relied on them to secure his position as project manager.

Offending them could jeopardize his work and even his safety.

I understood his situation.

I endured their inappropriate stares.

I tolerated their body odor.

I bore what I believed was their crude appraisal of me.

"Hey, you're beautiful."

Suddenly, Noah leaned close, his face inches from mine.

He spoke in broken English.

"Thank you."

Startled, I glanced at my still-singing boyfriend.

I politely replied while subtly shifting away.

"Do you have the pre-wedding ritual here? We're expecting."

Noah looked me up and down, licking his lips excitedly.

"What pre-wedding ritual?"

I was confused.

"The bride sleeps with the groom's brothers before marriage."

Noah slowly articulated in English.

He thrust his hips forward, winking at me.

Noah was shorter than the other black man, Oliver.

But he appeared more muscular.

I noticed the prominent bulge in his pants.

Immediate nausea washed over me.

"No, we don't have that here."

I quickly refused.

Noah seemed disappointed.

He picked up a beer and "accidentally" spilled it at my feet.

"Sorry."

He then returned to his seat.

I sighed in relief, determined to discuss this with Liam later.

Just then, Liam went to the restroom.

The room contained only Noah, Oliver, and myself.

Oliver stopped singing.

The two men conversed in their language, pointing at me and laughing strangely.