My Future Brother-in-Law Crossed the Line at Our Wedding – My Fiancé and I Had Enough | Story of the Day

My Future Brother-in-Law Was Always a Pain, but He Went Too Far at Our Wedding and That Was the Last Straw for My Fiancé and Me — Story of the Day

Rude, haughty, and constantly pushing limits, my future brother-in-law was a constant source of trouble. However, he went too far on my wedding day, and we will never be able to forgive him. My ideal day was turned into a nightmare when he publicly humiliated me. My fiancé finally lost it after that, which was the final straw.

Everything seemed perfect when Michael and I initially started dating. It’s the kind with surprising turns, but not the ideal kind.

Yes, my tardiness on our first date caused me to cry. Breathless and ashamed, I hurried into the restaurant.

I attempted to explain—traffic, coffee spilled, a broken shoe—but my eyes welled up. Michael sat silently, obviously not knowing what to do.

He didn’t phone me for a week after we finished supper. I thought I had frightened him away.

After that, we happened to cross paths at a party hosted by a mutual acquaintance. I clarified that I was merely an emotional person. He acknowledged that he was the same, which surprised me.

Since that celebration six years ago, we have been inseparable. Michael wept with me over animal-death movies, so I wasn’t crying alone any longer. I knew he shared my belief that he was my soulmate.

Our romance progressed swiftly. We moved in together after just three months, and we spent the next six years living together.

We never got around to organizing a wedding, though. We kept putting it off because there was always something going on—either Michael or I had a crisis.

Then Michael proposed eight months ago. The occasion was made even more memorable by the fact that he had everything organized so perfectly that I didn’t suspect anything. I knew I wanted to be with him for the rest of my life without a proposal.

There was one issue, though, just like with any couple. his household. Specifically—Jordan, his brother.

Jordan was terrible. rude, conceited, and self-centered. He believed that he was superior to Michael and everyone else.

He never missed an opportunity to tell Michael that he was the older brother, even though he was only three years older.

I can still clearly recall our initial encounter. Jordan, who still lived with his parents—yes, even as an adult—was present when Michael escorted me to meet them. Well, so much for being as “amazing” as he believed himself to be.

Everything appeared to be alright at first. We had a courteous discussion. Jordan, however, was waiting by the door when I moved aside to use the restroom.

“Bored yet?” Jordan inquired in a smug, quiet voice.

I tensed up. “No, I’m fine,” I answered, maintaining a stern yet courteous tone.

He laughed. He stepped closer and said, “Come on, let’s go have some fun.”

I retreated a little. I said, “No, really, I’m good,” with caution. A weird shiver went up my back.

Jordan’s head cocked. “Oh, hurry up. You are not the kind of person my brother deserves.

With me, you’d have a lot more fun,” he remarked. His eyes were frigid, but his voice was silky.

He caught me around the waist before I could react. His hand moved down and pressed against my butt.

“Get off me!” I shoved him away and yelled. Breathless, my pulse thumping, I hurried back to the dining room.

I walked over to Michael, who looked up. I put a palm to my tummy and forced a flimsy grin. “I’m not feeling well. Can we go now?

Michael got to his feet right away. “Of course.”

His parents had a worried expression. They added, “It was so nice to meet you, Danica,” as we bid each other farewell with hugs.

Michael gave me a quick look once we got inside the car. “Are you alright? Have you had a poor meal?

I inhaled deeply. Saying, “Jordan hit on me,”

Michael gripped the steering wheel more tightly. “What? “That jerk!” He tightened his jaw. “I’m going to talk to him.”

Jordan laughed it off when Michael spoke to him. As if it justified his actions, he said that he was only “testing me” as Michael’s older brother. Michael didn’t argue, but I didn’t believe him for a moment.

I occasionally questioned whether he was scared of Jordan. Jordan had repeatedly mocked and bullied him as a child.

He never stopped trying to make Michael feel inferior to him. Even though they had never been close, Michael made an effort to maintain harmony.

However, even Michael had to acknowledge that it was no longer a joke when Jordan refused to stop.

Then the messages began. inappropriate written material. unwanted images. Repulsive language. His number was blocked by me.

Michael immediately agreed when I informed him I didn’t want Jordan at our wedding.

Michael looked exhausted when he got home one evening. With a sigh, he collapsed onto the couch next to me, his shoulders sagging with stress.

“What happened?” Observing the way his shoulders drooped, I queried.

He exhaled deeply and rubbed his face. “I spoke with my folks. They stated that they would not attend the wedding if Jordan was not invited. His voice was low, laden with annoyance.

A stab of pain pricked my chest. “That’s not fair!” My hands clenched into fists as I said.

Michael whispered, “I know,” as he gazed at the ground.

“I already don’t want him there because of the way he treats me. He wrote me offensive messages and tormented me. Why don’t they care about that? My voice faltered.

Michael remained silent. He appeared disoriented as he sat there.

With the situation’s weight bearing down on me, I let out a breath. “All right. Jordan will be invited,” I stated in a tense voice.

Michael raised his head. “Are you sure?”

“We don’t really have a lot of options. However, your parents must ensure that I am not required to see him,” I stated firmly.

Michael encircled me with his arms. Whispering, “You’re the best,” he said.

Finally, the wedding day came. I felt like my heart may burst from the weight of it.

After years of dreaming, this moment had finally arrived. Nothing could spoil my day because I was being married to the man I loved the most. Not Jordan, not nerves, not stress.

Or so I believed.

As my bridesmaids assisted me with the last touches, I stood in front of the mirror in the church’s bridal room.

It was the ideal dress. Everything was flawless. Then someone knocked on the door.

I turned to open it with a smile. When I saw Jordan standing there, I gasped.

“What are you—” He picked up a bucket and, in one quick motion, threw its contents over me before I could finish. My skin, my hair, and my clothes were all soaked in a cold, viscous fluid.

“This is for rejecting me, witch,” he said with a mocking manner.

I let out a gasp. The first thing I noticed was the paint smell. My arms were dripping bright green. My lovely white gown was destroyed.

“Are you insane?!” My voice trembled as I screamed.

Jordan simply slammed the door in my face after laughing, his eyes shining with triumph.

I sobbed as my knees gave way and I fell onto the chair. With frightened expressions, my bridesmaids hurried in.

“Oh my God,” mumbled one of them.

Another added, “We need water,” and picked up a towel.

My garment was washed, but the paint had already seeped in. It couldn’t be saved.

My shoulders were gripped by Stacy. “Remain here. I’ll look for anything, even a white dress. Before I could respond, she rushed out.

As I wiped my face, more tears started to fall. It wasn’t meant to be this way.

My tears would not cease. I had been looking for the ideal wedding dress for months, picturing how I would seem as I walked down the aisle.

I would now need to dress in something I had never seen before. I had streaks of paint on to my hair, turning it all green. In a flash, my bridesmaids pinned it up and draped my veil over it.

“It will be all right,” one of them muttered.

Another said, “After the ceremony, we’ll wash it.”

Stacy was nowhere to be found, and the ceremony was already scheduled to begin.

The minutes passed slowly, each one more burdensome than the one before it. My bridesmaids paced while chattering anxiously and checking the time.

The door finally flew open. With her face heated and out of breath, Stacy rushed into the room. She had an unexpectedly lovely garment in her hands.

Jordan informed everyone that you fled. She blurted, “Michael is freaking out.”

I went cold. My stomach turned over.

“HE DID WHAT?!” My voice reverberated off the walls as I screamed.

Stacy gave a nod. Whispering is going on. Michael seemed to be on the verge of fainting.

I balled my fists up. Anger flared in my chest. “That’s all. I’m done.”

My green-streaked hair fell loose as I reached up and tore off my veil. The room was filled with gasps. With wide eyes, my bridesmaids gazed.

I hurried away without saying another thing. The paint was still flowing in some spots and dry in others, and my garment adhered to my flesh.

Heads turned as I entered the church. Individuals muttered. Even though my heart was racing, I persisted.

Michael’s face was pale as he stood at the altar with his hands clenched. He appeared heartbroken.

“I didn’t run away!” I yelled. The muttering were broken up by my voice.

Michael’s head jerked upwards. “Danica?” He dragged me into his arms as he hurried down the aisle.

My eyes ached from tears, but I fought them back. “Jordan poured green paint on me,” I muttered, pointing to my dirty dress as I took a step back. “Then he lied and told everyone I left!”

Michael’s mouth clenched. He looked around the room. “Hey Jordan! Would you mind explaining? His tone was piercing.

Jordan grinned as he reclined in his chair. “It was just a harmless joke,” he shrugged and remarked.

“It’s no joke! Nobody is giggling! As it is, we’re all on edge. Michael lost his temper.

Jordan remarked, “Whoa, little brother, calm down,” in a derisive tone.

Michael’s shoulders went square. “I am no longer five years old. I’m not under your authority.”

Jordan laughed. “Yet here I am, at your wedding.”

“Get out!” My voice was trembling with anger as I yelled.

Jordan’s eyebrow went up. “I received an invitation. I’m not going anywhere.”

Michael stepped forward. “Get out!” he said again, firmly. “Or I’ll throw you out myself.”

Then his mother interrupted, “Michael, he’s your brother,” and stood up.

Michael faced her. Without hesitation, he answered, “If you support what he did, you can leave too,”

His mom’s face became white. “But Michael—” she began.

“Out!” Michael gave the order. His tone was decisive.

The chapel fell into a tight hush. After exchanging glances, his parents seized Jordan and left without saying anything more.

Michael’s eyes softened as he turned back to face me. His forehead pressed against mine as he drew me in. “I was so scared,” he said to himself.

I let out a breath as I felt the burden of everything subside. “Thank you for standing up for me,” I responded steadily.

The words “from now on, always,” were his pledge.

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