During the wedding, my mother-in-law stood up from her seat and told the priest that she was against our marriage. She definitely did not expect my response.

I never imagined my wedding would turn into such a spectacle. Trouble began long before the ceremony itself: my mother-in-law insisted that, being single and still “young and attractive,” she was entitled to act as maid of honor. I tried to resist, but for my husband’s sake, I agreed.
“What could possibly go wrong?” I thought. “After all, it’s merely tradition.”

But disaster struck.

For the big day, my mother-in-law arrived wearing a floor-length white gown. White! An outfit far more suitable for an actual bride. At one point, she even snatched the bouquet from my hands and boldly positioned herself beside me, as though all attention should belong to her. I fought back tears and firmly refused to take photos next to her.

Yet the worst moment was still ahead. As we stood at the altar speaking our vows, the priest asked the familiar question:

“Does anyone here object to this marriage?”

Then my mother-in-law lifted her hand.

— I object, — she declared loudly. — This is my only son, and I won’t surrender him to another woman. Son, let’s just go home. Why continue this wedding?

The audience gasped; a few chuckled. My husband froze, completely speechless. I was furious inside, yet I quickly searched for a way to save the ceremony.

I said with a sharp voice:

— Mom, did you forget to take your medication again? The doctor warned: miss a dose, and you’ll start rambling. Should I bring you water to calm you down? Today is the wedding! I am your daughter-in-law, and he is your son. Did you forget?

Then I turned to the guests:

— Forgive us, my mother-in-law suffers from illness, and sometimes she loses awareness of her words. Father, please continue; her statements mean nothing. She is confused.

— But I am not ill! — my mother-in-law protested.

— Yes, yes, of course you’re fine, you just skipped your medicine briefly. Now it’s fine, and I’ll bring it later, — I answered kindly.

Bewildered, she stepped aside and sat down. The ceremony carried on. We were married, and in that instant, I realized: sometimes, in order to protect happiness, you must rely on wit.