My wedding dress disappeared moments before the ceremony. Then I saw my mother-in-law walk out of the dressing room, wearing it.
You might be younger than me, but this dress fits my figure better. I’ll look more appropriate standing next to my son.
Her theatrics delayed our ceremony by thirty minutes.
I gently pointed out how inappropriate this was, suggesting people might misunderstand their relationship.
“Only dirty minds see dirt everywhere,” my mother-in-law sneered.
My husband chimed in, “You’ll have children someday! Would loving your own child make you abnormal too?”
Fine. Do whatever you want. I’m done playing this game.
After the divorce, my ex-husband kept hounding me, begging me to come back.
The wedding ceremony was set to begin at noon, but I couldn’t find my wedding dress anywhere.
My cousin, Jessica, who was in charge of the gowns, was practically in tears. “I just went to the restroom for a few minutes, and it was gone!”
I tried to calm her, saying maybe it was left in the wedding car or somewhere in the hotel.
My mom got all our family who were there to help search. Finally, the dress was found in the dressing room.
But it was on someone else.
The person wearing the wedding dress was my mother-in-law, Brenda.
Everyone present froze.
Brenda was almost sixty this year, but she maintained a slender figure. In the wedding dress, she truly didn’t look sixty.
If she had on bridal makeup, some might even mistake her for the bride.
Seeing our stunned faces, Brenda twirled the skirt in front of the full-length mirror, a smug smile on her face. “I think this wedding dress suits me better. Look at this waistline, it fits me perfectly. Paired with Mark’s tailored suit, it’s an absolute match!”
As she said this, her eyes in the mirror met mine. I don’t know if I was overthinking, but I saw a blatant challenge, a smirk in her eyes.
My mom stepped forward, smiling. “Brenda, you really do keep yourself in great shape. But today is a big day for the kids, and the ceremony is about to start. We should let them get ready.”
“Go on,” Brenda said grandly. “You don’t need to stay with me, go do what you need to do.”
How could we go? The main wedding dress was still on her.
It took a lot of pleading and cajoling to finally get her to take the dress off.
She was clearly unhappy and her movements were rough.
When the makeup artist and Jessica rushed to help me put on the dress, we found the underarm seam was ripped right open, a long, nasty tear.
The scheduled ceremony time had already passed by half an hour. With no other option, we had to hastily pin it up.
Just as I was about to walk down the aisle, we realized my veil was missing.
There was no time to worry about it. The makeup artist quickly placed a tiara as a substitute.
Ten minutes later, the stage lights dimmed, the music swelled, and I finally stood at one side of the stage with my husband, Mark.
I thought the wedding dress disappearing before the ceremony was just a small hiccup. But I never imagined that in the middle of the ceremony, Brenda would pull another one of her stunts.
It was time for the parents’ speeches.
The moment Brenda walked onto the stage, I gasped again.
Though she wasn’t wearing a wedding dress, she had on a white cocktail dress, a semi-backless style. From afar, it absolutely looked like a bride’s outfit.
And the veil I couldn’t find earlier? It was tied to her head.
The entire room of guests froze, stunned into silence. But Mark was beaming at her, whispering to me, “My mom’s really showing off today, isn’t she?”
I couldn’t help but frown.
David, my father-in-law, began his congratulatory speech to us.
Meanwhile, Brenda and Mark linked fingers, gazing lovingly into each other’s eyes.
Brenda had a smile on her face, but her eyes were brimming with tears. She stared intently at Mark, even leaning her head on his shoulder.
It didn’t look like the joy of a son finally getting married. It looked more like a mother heartbroken her son was about to jump into a fiery pit.
Mark responded to Brenda’s gaze with a gentle expression, and when her tears slowly streamed down, he gently raised his hand to wipe them away.
The mother and son were so engrossed in each other that they didn’t even notice David had finished speaking.
Hundreds of guests in the ballroom wore expressions of utter disbelief, as if silently asking, “What did I just witness?”
But those two were completely oblivious.
I felt absolutely sick to my stomach.
I knew Mark and his mom were close. Three SnapChat video calls a day were the bare minimum.
Besides reminding Mark about his daily clothes, food, and travel, Brenda would specifically warn him against briefs, Coca-Cola, even tofu and celery, claiming they were “bad for a man’s… vitality.”
But at the same time, she’d also lecture him to “stay strong, don’t let ‘loose’ girls corrupt his purity,” even if he had a girlfriend.
When they video called at night, they’d even be barely dressed, fresh out of the shower.
The first time I learned about their conversations, I was so shocked I couldn’t speak.
There’s a saying: a daughter should avoid her father’s direct presence as she grows, and a son his mother’s. It’s about respecting boundaries.
After I turned ten, my dad always knocked before entering my room.
If he had something specific to tell me, he’d ask my mom to do it.
He wouldn’t even walk around shirtless at home in the summer; if I was home, he’d at least wear a sleeveless undershirt.
Was Mark and his mom’s relationship just too close?
Yet, if his mom wasn’t involved, Mark was the perfect boyfriend, the ideal future husband.
He’d take me to the doctor when I had a cold, instead of just saying “drink more hot water.”
He’d make me ginger-brown sugar tea for period cramps and even took me to an acupuncturist.
He was always so calm, never once got mad or upset with me, no matter what happened.
Beyond that, he was hardworking and steadily advancing in his career.
Everyone said I’d found a great man and could confidently marry him.
Brenda and we didn’t live in the same city, so we didn’t see each other much before, and wouldn’t live together in the future. My concerns were minimal.
But now, seeing Brenda’s actions and her interactions with Mark firsthand, I couldn’t deny it: a knot formed in my stomach.
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