When I got engaged to Eric, I thought I was saying yes to my soulmate, not a bizarre family tradition that would test my worth. At our engagement dinner, everything seemed perfect—until his mother, Martha, stood up after dessert and announced that I would have to pass the “family wife test” before I could marry her son.

At first, I laughed, thinking it was a joke. But Martha was serious, and everyone else nodded along like it was normal. The test included cooking a three-course meal without recipes, deep-cleaning a house, ironing to their standards, setting a formal table, and hosting a tea—with a smile. I was stunned. I wasn’t joining a marriage; I was auditioning for a role in a 1950s sitcom.

Eric didn’t protest. In fact, he encouraged me to go along with it. That was the moment I realized he wasn’t going to stand up for me. I ended the dinner, walked away from the table, and spent the night locked in the guest room, devastated.

The next morning, I left and stayed with my best friend Monica. Eric sent apologetic texts, but they missed the point. He didn’t defend me when it counted. Days later, Martha called to “talk woman to woman,” insisting it was just tradition. I told her clearly: respect should never have conditions.

I still love Eric, but I can’t marry into a family that sees my worth through chores. If he wants a future with me, he needs to break that cycle. Otherwise, I’ll walk away—with my dignity intact.