The wedding was meant to be the happiest day of my lifeuntil my mother-in-law decided to make it hers instead.
It started before the ceremony. She insisted, with that sharp tone of hers, that since she was “young and glamorous” and no longer married, she deserved to be my maid of honour. I bit my tongue for my fiancés sake, telling myself, *What harm could it do? Its just tradition.*
Then it all went wrong.
She swept into the chapel in a full-length white gown*white*, as if she were the bride. At one point, she snatched the bouquet right from my hands and positioned herself front and centre, basking in the attention. I forced back tears, refusing to take photos beside her.
But the worst was yet to come.
As we stood at the altar, the vicar asked the question: *”If anyone knows of any lawful impediment to this marriage, let them speak now.”*
And thenshe raised her hand.
“I object,” she announced, voice ringing through the silent chapel. “Hes my only son, and I wont hand him over to another woman. Come home, darling. Why do you need this wedding?”
Gasps rippled through the guests. Someone stifled a laugh. My husband froze, speechless. Rage burned in my chestbut in that instant, I knew exactly how to stop her.
With icy calm, I turned to her and said, loud enough for everyone to hear, *”Mum, have you forgotten your medication again? The doctor warned youskip a dose, and you start imagining things. Let me fetch you some water. Todays our wedding! Im your daughter-in-law, and this is your son. Dont you remember?”*
Then, to the guests, I sighed, *”Forgive hershes been unwell lately. Sometimes she doesnt realise what shes saying. Vicar, please continue. Her words mean nothing.”*
“I am *not* ill!” she snapped.
“Of course not,” I said gently. “You just missed your pills. Itll all be over soon.”
She faltered, retreating to her seat in stunned silence. The ceremony carried on. We said our vows, and in that moment, I understood: sometimes, to protect your happiness, you have to play the game better than they do.
