My future brother-in-law has always been a problem—rude, arrogant, and always pushing boundaries. But on my wedding day, he crossed a line we could never forgive. He humiliated me in front of everyone, turning my perfect day into a nightmare. It was the final straw, and my fiancé finally had enough.
When Michael and I first started dating, everything felt like a fairy tale. Not the perfect kind, but the kind with unexpected twists and turns.
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Yes, I burst into tears on our first date because I was late. I rushed into the restaurant, breathless and my face flushed with embarrassment.
My eyes welled up with tears as I tried to explain the situation: the hellish traffic, the coffee spilled on my clothes, the shoe that had broken on the way. Michael sat silently, clearly bewildered.
We managed to finish dinner, but he didn’t call me for a week. I thought then that I had scared him off.
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Then we ran into each other at a mutual friend’s party. I explained myself, saying I was just an emotional person. To my surprise, he understood and admitted that he was the same way.
That night was six years ago, and ever since, we’ve been inseparable. I no longer cried alone watching movies where animals died—Michael cried with me. He was my soulmate, and I knew he felt the same way.
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Our relationship evolved quickly. After only three months, we moved in together, and that’s how we lived for six years.
But somehow, we never managed to plan a wedding. Something always came up—either I had a crisis or Michael had one—and we kept putting it off.
Then, eight months ago, Michael proposed. He planned everything so well that I didn’t suspect a thing, which made the moment even more special. I didn’t need a marriage proposal to know I wanted to spend my life with him.
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But, as in all relationships, there was one problem. His family. Specifically, his brother, Jordan.
Jordan was horrible. Rude, arrogant, and full of himself. He thought he was better than everyone, including Michael.
He was only three years older than him, but he never missed an opportunity to remind Michael that he was the big brother.
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I still remember our first meeting. Michael took me to meet his parents, and since Jordan still lived with them—yes, even as an adult—he was there too. That’s how “great” he was as he thought he was.
At first, everything seemed fine. We had a polite conversation. But when I stepped away to go to the bathroom, Jordan was waiting by the door.
“Are you bored already?” he asked me, his voice low and smug.
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I stiffened. “No, I’m fine,” I replied, keeping my tone polite but firm.
He chuckled. “Come on, let’s have some fun,” he suggested, moving closer.
I took a small step back. “No, really, I’m fine,” I said cautiously. A strange feeling crept up my spine.
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Jordan tilted his head. “Oh, come on. My brother doesn’t deserve someone like you.”
“You’d have much more fun with me,” he had said. His voice was soft, but his eyes held something cold.
Before I could react, he grabbed me by the waist. His hand slid lower, pressing against my back.
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“Let go of me!” I shouted, pushing him away. My heart was pounding as I rushed to the dining room, panting.
Michael looked up as I approached. I placed a hand on my stomach, forcing a weak smile. “I don’t feel very well. Can we leave?”
Michael stood up immediately. “Of course.”
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Her parents looked concerned. “It was so nice meeting you, Danica,” they said as we hugged goodbye.
Once we were in the car, Michael glanced at me. “Are you okay? Did you eat something bad?”
I took a deep breath. “Jordan hit on me,” I said.
Michael’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. “What? That jerk!” His jaw tightened. “I’ll talk to him.”
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Michael did talk to Jordan, but Jordan laughed at him. He claimed he was just “testing” me as Michael’s big brother, as if that excused his behavior. I didn’t believe him for a second, but Michael didn’t argue.
Sometimes I wondered if he was afraid of Jordan. Growing up, Jordan had constantly bullied and teased him.
He always found a way to make Michael feel small, as if he were less than him. Their relationship was never close, but Michael always tried to keep the peace.
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However, when Jordan wouldn’t stop, even Michael had to admit it wasn’t a joke anymore.
Then the messages started. Inappropriate texts. Unwanted photos. Disgusting words. I ended up blocking his number.
When I told Michael I didn’t want Jordan at our wedding, he immediately agreed.
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One evening, Michael came home looking exhausted. He sighed and collapsed on the couch next to me, his shoulders heavy with tension.
“What happened?” I asked, noticing the way his shoulders slumped.
He rubbed his face and let out a long breath. “I talked to my parents. They said if Jordan wasn’t invited to the wedding, they wouldn’t come either.” His voice was quiet, thick with frustration.
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I felt a sharp sting in my chest. “It’s not fair!” I said, my hands balling into fists.
“I know,” Michael had whispered, staring at the floor.
“The way he treats me is reason enough for me not to want him here. He stalked me, he sent me disgusting messages. Why doesn’t that matter to them?” My voice wavered.
Michael didn’t answer. He just sat there, looking lost.
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I exhaled, the weight of the situation weighing on me. “All right. We’ll invite Jordan,” I said, my voice tight.
Michael raised his head. “Are you sure?”
“Not that we really have a choice. But your parents need to make sure I don’t have to see him,” I said firmly.
Michael put his arms around me and whispered, “You’re the best.”
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The wedding day finally arrived. My heart was so full I thought it was going to burst.
I’d dreamed of this moment for years, and now it was finally here. I was going to marry the man I loved more than anything, and nothing could ruin my day. Not stress, not nerves, not even Jordan.
At least that’s what I thought.
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I was in the bridal room at the church, standing in front of the mirror while my bridesmaids helped me add the finishing touches.
The dress was perfect. Everything was perfect. Then there was a knock at the door.
Smiling, I turned around to open the door. I gasped when I saw Jordan standing there.
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“What are you…” Before I could finish, he lifted a bucket and, in one swift motion, poured its contents over me. A cold, sticky liquid soaked my dress, my skin, my hair.
“That’s for rejecting me, witch,” he sneered.
I jumped. The smell of paint hit me first. Bright green was dripping down my arms. My beautiful white dress was ruined.
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“Are you crazy?!” I shouted, my voice shaking.
Jordan just laughed, his eyes shining with satisfaction, then slammed the door in my face.
My knees buckled and I collapsed onto the chair, sobbing. My bridesmaids rushed over, their faces horrified.
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“Oh my God,” one of them whispered.
“We need water,” another said, grabbing a towel.
They rubbed my dress, but the paint was already soaked in. There was no way to save it.
Stacy grabbed me by the shoulders. “Stay here. I’ll find a white dress, anything.” She rushed off before I could answer.
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I wiped my face, but more tears came. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.
I couldn’t stop crying. I had spent months choosing my wedding dress, searching for the perfect one, imagining what I would look like walking down the aisle.
Now I had to wear something I’d never seen before. My hair was completely green, with traces of paint clinging to the strands. My bridesmaids worked quickly, pinning it up and covering it with my veil.
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“It’ll be okay,” one of them whispered.
“We’ll wash it after the ceremony,” promised another.
The ceremony was supposed to have already started, but Stacy was still missing.
The minutes dragged on, each one heavier than the last. My bridesmaids paced back and forth, checking the time, whispering anxiously.
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Finally, the door opened. Stacy ran into the room, breathless and flushed. In her hands, she held a stunningly beautiful dress.
“Jordan told everyone you ran away. Michael is panicking,” she said bluntly and directly.
I froze. My stomach twisted.
“WHAT DID HE DO?!” I shouted, my voice echoing off the walls.
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Stacy nodded. “People are whispering. Michael looks like he’s about to pass out.”
I clenched my fists. My chest burned with anger. “That’s it. I’ve had enough.”
I reached up, ripped off my veil, and let my green-streaked hair fall. Gasps filled the room. My bridesmaids stared, their eyes wide.
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Without another word, I stormed off. My dress clung to my skin, the paint was dry in some places and still dripping in others.
As I entered the church, heads turned. People were whispering. My heart was pounding, but I kept going.
Michael stood before the altar, his hands clenched, his face pale. He looked devastated.
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“I didn’t run away!” I shouted. My voice cut through the whispers.
Michael looked up. “Danica?” He rushed down the aisle and hugged me.
Tears pricked my eyes, but I blinked them back. “Jordan poured green paint on me,” I said, stepping back and pointing at my ruined dress. “Then he lied and told everyone I left!”
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Michael’s jaw tightened. He turned around, scanning the room. “Jordan! You want to explain this to me?!” His voice was sharp.
Jordan leaned back in his chair, smiling. “It was just a harmless joke,” he shrugged.
“This is not a joke! Nobody’s laughing! We’re all already on edge!” Michael fumed.
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“Whoa, little brother, calm down,” Jordan said mockingly.
Michael squared his shoulders. “I’m not five anymore. You have no control over me.”
Jordan laughed. “Yet here I am, at your wedding.”
“Get out of here!” I shouted, my voice shaking with rage.
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Jordan raised an eyebrow. “I was invited. I’m not leaving.”
Michael took a step forward. “Get out!” he repeated, his voice firm. “Or I’ll throw you out myself.”
“Michael, he’s your brother,” his mother intervened, standing up abruptly.
Michael turned to her. “If you support what he did, you can leave too,” he said without hesitation.
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Her mother’s face paled. “But Michael…” she began.
“Out!” Michael ordered. His voice was final.
A tense silence fell over the church. His parents exchanged a glance, then grabbed Jordan and left without another word.
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Michael turned to me, his eyes softening. He pulled me closer, resting his forehead against mine. “I was so scared,” he whispered.
I exhaled, feeling the weight of everything lift. “Thank you for standing up for me,” I said, my voice steady.
“From now on, always,” he promised.
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