In the midst of our wedding, my mother-in-law rose from her seat and declared to the vicar that she opposed our uniona response she certainly hadnt expected from me.
I never imagined my wedding day would unfold like a scene from a farce. The trouble began before the ceremony, when my mother-in-law insistedsince she was widowed and still “young and lovely”that she ought to be my maid of honour. I protested, but for my husbands sake, I relented. “What harm could it do?” I thought. “After all, its just tradition.”
Yet the worst came to pass.
She arrived at the church in a long white gown. White! A dress more fitting for the bride herself. At one point, she snatched the bouquet from my hands and stood proudly beside me, as though the attention ought to be hers alone. I fought back tears and outright refused to take photographs with her.
But the true calamity came later. As we stood before the altar, exchanging our vows, the vicar asked that fateful question: “Should anyone present know of any lawful impediment to this marriage, let them speak now.”
Then, my mother-in-law raised her hand.
“I object,” she announced loudly. “He is my only son, and I will not surrender him to another woman. Charles, come homewhy trouble yourself with this wedding?”
The guests gasped; some stifled laughter. My husband froze, at a loss for words. Fury burned within me, but in that instant, I devised a way to salvage the moment.
With perfect composure, I turned to her and said, loud enough for all to hear, something utterly unexpected. “Mother, have you forgotten your medicine again? The doctor warned youskip a dose, and the delusions return. Let me fetch you some water to settle your nerves. Today is a wedding, after all! I am your daughter-in-law, and this is your son. Have you forgotten?”
Then, addressing the congregation, I added, “Forgive her, please. My mother-in-law suffers from a condition that clouds her judgment at times. Reverend, let us proceedher words hold no weight. She isnt in her right mind.”
“But Im not ill!” she protested.
“Of course not,” I replied gently. “Only a little forgetful with your pills. Once the ceremony ends, Ill see you take them.”
She faltered, retreated to her seat, and the wedding continued. We were married, and in that moment, I understood: sometimes, guarding ones happiness demands a touch of cunning.
