My future brother-in-law was always trouble—rude, arrogant, and constantly crossing the line. But on my wedding day, he did something so unforgivable that it changed everything. He humiliated me in front of everyone, turning my perfect day into a nightmare. That was the final straw, and my fiancé, Michael, finally had enough.
When Michael and I first started dating, it felt like a fairy tale—not the perfect kind, but the kind full of unexpected twists.
Yes, I cried on our first date because I was late. I had sprinted into the restaurant, breathless, cheeks burning with embarrassment.
“I’m so sorry,” I blurted, blinking back tears. “Traffic was awful, my coffee spilled all over my dress, and then my shoe broke.”
Michael just stared at me, clearly unsure of what to do. The silence stretched for what felt like forever.
But somehow, we made it through dinner, and for the rest of the night, he made me laugh so much that I forgot about my disastrous entrance.
Yet, after that date, he didn’t call me for a whole week. I assumed I had scared him away. Then, we ran into each other at a mutual friend’s party.
“Hey, about the other night,” I started awkwardly. “I promise I’m not usually that much of a mess.”
To my surprise, Michael smiled. “Honestly? I kind of liked it. I get overwhelmed by life too.”
That party was six years ago, and from that night on, we were inseparable. I was no longer the only one crying over movies where animals died—Michael cried with me. He was my soulmate, and I knew he felt the same.
After just three months, we moved in together. Six years passed, and somehow, we never got around to planning a wedding. There was always something—either I had a crisis, or Michael did—so we kept postponing it.
Then, eight months ago, Michael proposed. He planned everything so perfectly that I never saw it coming, making the moment even more special. Not that I needed a ring to know I wanted to spend my life with him.
But there was one problem. His family. More specifically—his brother, Jordan.
Jordan was a nightmare. He was the type of guy who thought he was better than everyone, including Michael. He was only three years older but acted like he was some wise elder who needed to “guide” his little brother.
The first time I met him was at a family dinner. He seemed fine at first—polite even. But when I stepped away to use the bathroom, he was waiting outside the door.
“Bored yet?” he asked, smirking.
I stiffened. “No, I’m fine,” I replied, trying to keep my tone neutral.
He chuckled. “Come on, let’s go have some fun.”
I took a step back. “I’m here with Michael.”
Jordan tilted his head. “And? My little brother doesn’t deserve someone like you. You should be with me.”
Before I could react, he grabbed me by the waist, his hand sliding lower than it should have.
“Get off me!” I shoved him away, my heart pounding as I rushed back to the dining room.
Michael noticed something was off immediately. “Are you okay? Did you eat something bad?”
I swallowed hard. “Jordan hit on me.”
Michael’s hands clenched into fists. “What?! That jerk! I’m going to talk to him.”
And he did. But Jordan just laughed it off, saying he was “just testing me,” as if that excused his disgusting behavior. Michael let it go, probably out of years of habit from dealing with his bullying older brother.
Then the messages started—unwanted texts, inappropriate pictures, disgusting words. I blocked his number.
When I told Michael I didn’t want Jordan at our wedding, he agreed without hesitation. But his parents? They had a different opinion.
“If Jordan isn’t invited, we won’t come either,” they said.
Michael looked devastated. “That’s not fair.”
“Exactly!” I snapped. “He harassed me, sent disgusting messages. Why does that not matter to them?”
Michael sighed. “I don’t know. But we’ll make this work.”
I gave in. “Fine. But I don’t want to see him.”
And then, the wedding day arrived. My heart was full. I was about to marry the love of my life, and nothing could ruin it.
Or so I thought.
As I stood in the bridal suite, admiring my reflection, there was a knock at the door. Smiling, I turned to open it.
It was Jordan.
Before I could react, he lifted a bucket and dumped its contents over me.
A cold, sticky liquid soaked my dress, my skin, my hair.
“This is for rejecting me, witch,” he sneered before slamming the door.
I gasped. The smell of paint hit me first. Bright green dripped from my arms. My beautiful white gown was destroyed.
“Are you insane?!” I screamed.
My bridesmaids rushed in, horrified.
“Oh my God,” one of them whispered.
“We need water!” another shouted.
They tried to scrub my dress, but it was no use.
Then Stacy, my maid of honor, ran in breathless. “Jordan told everyone you ran away. Michael looks like he’s about to pass out!”
I froze. “HE DID WHAT?!”
Ripping off my veil, I stormed out, my ruined dress trailing behind me. As I stepped into the church, heads turned. People whispered.
Michael stood at the altar, pale and shaking. I could see the heartbreak in his eyes.
“I didn’t run away!” I shouted.
Michael’s head snapped up. “Danica?!”
He ran to me, pulling me into his arms. “What happened?”
“Jordan dumped paint on me,” I said through clenched teeth. “Then he lied and told everyone I left!”
Michael turned to the guests. “Jordan! Care to explain?!”
Jordan smirked from his seat. “Just a joke. No one’s laughing?”
Michael took a step forward. “Get out.”
“Whoa, calm down, little bro,” Jordan said mockingly.
Michael squared his shoulders. “I’m not five anymore. Get. Out.”
Their mother stood up. “Michael, he’s your brother!”
Michael looked at her, eyes hard. “If you support what he did, you can leave too.”
A heavy silence fell. His parents exchanged a look, then grabbed Jordan and walked out.
Michael turned back to me, his eyes softening. “I was so scared,” he whispered.
I exhaled, the weight of everything lifting. “Thank you for standing up for me.”
“From now on, always,” he promised.
And with that, we got married, green-streaked hair and all. It wasn’t the wedding I planned, but it was the perfect beginning to our life together.
