My son's marriage

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My marriage to him was a momentous event within the church. When the priests united us in the "eternal covenant" in the temple, they particularly praised our courage. They said it was a necessary step for our ascension to heaven. Although secular laws prohibit polygamy and consider consanguineous marriage to be adultery and sinful, the Church's founder had thirty wives, some of whom were sisters, and some were mothers and daughters sharing a husband. Some patriarchs even married their own sisters, aunts, and maternal aunts, establishing eternal marriages. The Church also encourages believers to trace their family trees; brothers within the Church can have posthumous marriages with the women of their ancestors, giving them eternal belonging and allowing their souls to ascend to heaven. I was one of the few believers willing to truly marry my own son, and should have been praised, but due to the law, the ceremony could only be held secretly. Of course, eternal marriage and physical union are two different things, but a husband is a husband. Whoever he is, if he desires physical intimacy, or even expects to have children from this union, it is his right, and it aligns with the teachings revealed in the scriptures. Thus, my son became my husband, and I became his wife, beginning a life together as both wife and mother. Before the marriage, my son's courtship was truly intoxicating. I also blame myself for my weak will; his sweet words stirred my heart, for I had never imagined my son would be my suitor. He was frail and sickly from childhood, often causing me worry. He was fervent in his religion, but indifferent to everything else. My late husband was not a believer in my religion and greatly disapproved of my son's and my religious beliefs; I often had to act like a mother hen, protecting and shielding him. Unexpectedly, after my late husband's death, he began to pursue me. On a trip back to his hometown to preach, he confessed his feelings and directly proposed to me, asking me to marry him. I never imagined my son would propose to me. I thought he was joking, but I discovered he was serious. I also never imagined he would use religious aspirations as his reason for refusing to marry anyone but me. I understood the doctrine, thinking he was simply concerned about the destiny of my soul and thus proposed a religious marriage. I appreciated his concern, but he clarified unequivocally that he required us to fulfill earthly marital responsibilities simultaneously, which was not forbidden by doctrine. He acted according to God's will, leaving me no room to refuse, because if he truly understood this, divine will could not be defied. I considered it for a week, even consulting with a religious teacher, and surprisingly decided to marry him. I don't know where the courage came from when I accepted; it must have been God's support. When the wedding date was set, I wanted to back out, but it was too late. Before the marriage, he treated me according to religious rules, our relationship remaining respectful. After our engagement, we shared a room during our travels, but slept in separate beds, signifying that his proposal was not out of lust, but rather in accordance with divine will. To avoid embarrassing me, he flew with me to a temple abroad to get married. On our wedding night, he, a virgin, made love to me. He was incredibly considerate, taking into account both my feelings as a mother and my needs as a wife. He always asked for my consent before deciding whether I wanted to expose myself, to what extent, how we made love, or how many times. During our honeymoon, I experienced the sweetness of being respected and cherished by my husband. He satisfied me both physically and emotionally, making me believe that I hadn't married the wrong person, and that this decision was in accordance with God's will. I believe that if my late husband knew, he wouldn't blame me. Upon returning from the honeymoon, I first told my older brother about this wonderful event. He was the leader of the church, and while he seemed indifferent, his actions were in accordance with church rules, so he had nothing to say and accepted us. My husband also promised to continue relying on him at his company. Because of the complexities of dealing with people and situations, my husband revealed his lack of experience, primarily in business dealings and the power struggles within the family. As his mother, I wanted to make decisions for him, but as his wife, I believed he should take the lead himself. Outside the church, no one knew of our marriage. The only one who knew was my elder brother, a highly respected figure within the church and a powerful figure in his company, whom my late husband had trusted. His ambition soon became apparent; he wanted to seize power in the company. The situation became tense, and our differing methods and styles led to frequent arguments. For a time, we slept in separate rooms, and our marriage was in jeopardy. I tried to maintain the marriage, but had to remain in the background. Shortly after the wedding, due to the lack of contraception, I became pregnant, further increasing the mental stress. My young husband was inexperienced in political maneuvering. My cunning elder brother used the secret of our marriage as leverage to force my husband to marry his daughter, hoping to gain control of the situation. My niece, also a member of the church, knew she would share a husband with her aunt. Within the family, I was the elder, and according to religious rules, I was the legal wife, but legally she was the official wife. On their wedding day, to maintain appearances, I officiated, explaining to the guests that I was simply gaining weight despite being heavily pregnant. Soon after, I was very heavily pregnant and went abroad to give birth. My husband, however, was threatened and unable to be with me. When my son was born, I was alone in the delivery room, reflecting on my life and feeling desolate. Because of my age, I almost had a difficult delivery, but thankfully, we survived, and both mother and child were safe. From then on, I had to separate from my husband and live a life akin to exile with my newborn son. My elder brother warned me that if I returned, our marriage and childbirth would be exposed, my husband would be disgraced, and our son would have no place to stand. During my exile, my husband could only visit me in secret, and we would share our longing for each other. We cherished our moments together; the test of separation proved that our relationship could withstand any hardship. During lovemaking, he displayed an unprecedented passion and affection, solidifying and deepening our love. At that moment, he wanted to abandon everything to be with me. My husband loved me so much; I could die without regret. I despised my elder brother's actions and vowed to preserve my late husband's family business, deciding to plan a counterattack. A year later, my niece also gave birth to a daughter for my husband. I secretly thanked Heaven, because according to my late husband's will, male heirs had inheritance rights; I believed it was a divine arrangement and blessing for me. To retaliate, I secretly returned. Some of my late husband's confidants in the company remained loyal to me. There were also some old friends on the board of directors who disapproved of my elder brother's actions. I used my role as his mother to win them over and gain their help. Finally, I caught him cheating and forced him to resign. I didn't pursue his ill-gotten gains in exchange for his promise to keep our secret. We regained power, but believing family was more important than career, we decided to put aside our business and move abroad with me to start a new life. My faith forbids divorce, and my husband is also devoted to his cousin. For the sake of the daughter she bore, the three of us met and confronted each other. She, understanding the greater good, agreed to a doctrinal arrangement, sharing the wife with me, but acknowledging me as the principal wife and willingly accepting the secondary role. I also generously accepted her, addressing her as a "sister," not as aunt and niece. Because of my age, I almost had an accident during my first pregnancy with my "son-husband." Although my husband loves children, he insisted I use contraception. Therefore, the responsibility of raising children fell on his cousin. After two daughters, she finally had a son with her third pregnancy, and she instructed her children to respectfully call me "Auntie." Another testament to my husband's deep affection for me was that he slept with me six days a week, only going to his cousin's room on the seventh. I felt this was unfair to his cousin, because as shared wives, they should share the pleasures of the bedroom. I am twenty years older than my husband, which makes me feel inferior. I fear that as I age and lose my looks, my husband will find me unattractive. However, he is a filial son and wouldn't embarrass his mother, always considering my feelings. He has expressed that his love for me will never change, and he gives me even more care and affection. My sister is seven or eight years younger than my husband, so her sex life should be her responsibility. However, she is in charge of childbirth, and her womb is always full, giving birth one after another. In the end, it's still up to me, the older sister, to manage her sex life. When she stopped trying to conceive, my husband's libido also decreased, and I am more considerate of the sexual needs of an older man. Between the two wives, my son knew he had to make a proper arrangement. One had shared hardships with him, acting as both wife and mother, while the other was his childhood sweetheart. They are as close as siblings, both are equally dear to him, and their bond is even stronger. Since they are so close, he openly discussed the matter with us, proposing a compromise where the three of us—my husband, my sister, and I—would share a bed. We all thought it was feasible. My husband and I were married for twenty years. To him, I was a wife in bed and a mother out of bed. I suffered for him and risked my life to raise his child. He was unwaveringly loyal to me, even though he was forced to marry his young and beautiful cousin. He still prioritized me, showing me deep affection and loyalty. As a woman, I understood the feeling of sharing my husband with someone else. So, one night my husband made love to me, and the next night he gave him to my cousin. My niece, seeing how I treated her like a sister or daughter, respected me even more. However, the rivalry between us sisters was natural for women; it would be strange if we didn't compete. We weren't competing for who was older or younger, but for who was better in bed. In this respect, I had the advantage. My late husband's libido was actually stronger than my son's, but when my son made love to me, there was something my late husband lacked: an almost obsessive religious fervor. Satisfying my physical and spiritual needs was a responsibility God had given him.

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