Bride’s Mom Interrupted the Ceremony — The Groom’s Calm Reply Left Everyone in Shock
My Mother Objected at My Wedding, ‘This Man Is Not Good Enough!’—My Fiancé’s Response Made Her Run
You know how they ask if anyone has any objections during weddings?
That was taken too seriously by my mother. With fake tears in her eyes, she got up and attempted to ruin my marriage before it had even begun.
However, she was unaware of my fiancé’s impending mic-drop moment.
The subway was the most surprising venue for me to meet Brian. The train car was almost deserted, save for a few weary commuters, and it was almost midnight.
My feet hurt from working a 12-hour shift as a nurse at the hospital, so I sagged in my chair. He was sitting across from me, engrossed in a dog-eared copy of “The Great Gatsby,” and I saw his face furrowed in devotion.
There was something alluring about the way he sat there, completely unconcerned with the outside world, wearing faded trainers and a navy hoodie. I was always stealing looks.
Heat rushed to my cheeks as I hastily turned away from him when he finally looked up and saw me watching.
“Fitzgerald has that effect on people,” he whispered. “Makes you forget where you are.”
As I said, “I wouldn’t know,” “I’ve never read it.”
His gaze expanded. “Never? One of the best American books ever written is something you’re missing out on.
I gave a shrug. “I guess I don’t have much time for reading these days.”
That evening, we didn’t exchange phone numbers. I assumed he was just another stranger on the train—a quick, amicable exchange that would eventually be forgotten.
He said, “Maybe our paths will cross again,” as he got off at his stop. “If they do, I’ll lend you my copy.”
I said, “I’d like that,” without really thinking it would happen.
He winked and said, “Sometimes the best stories find us when we least expect them,” before we parted ways.
After a week, destiny stepped in.
It was evening rush hour, and the subway was crowded with passengers hurrying home.
As the train lurched forward, I stood gripping the overhead rail and attempting to keep my equilibrium. Just as I was about to react, I felt a sudden tug on my purse, and a man grabbed it from my shoulder and pushed his way to the doors.
“Hey! “Stop him!” I yelled, but nobody responded.
Only Brian.
He suddenly materialised and rushed past astonished passengers. At the next stop, the doors opened, and both guys fell onto the platform. As I watched in terror as they struggled on the ground, I pressed my face against the window.
Somehow, I was able to get through the closing doors. The burglar had already left by the time I got to them, but Brian was sitting on the ground with my purse wondrously in his hands and a small gash above his eyebrow gushing.
“Your book recommendation service is very dramatic,” I added as I assisted him in standing up.
He gave me my purse while laughing. “I still owe you a copy of Gatsby.”
To clean up his cut, we headed out for coffee. Dinner was born out of one coffee. I ended up walking home after dinner. My knees became weak as the walk home turned into a kiss at my door.
After six months, we fell deeply in love. But Juliette, my mother? He was never liked by her.
“Eliza, a librarian? When I originally told her about Brian, she grimaced and asked, “Really?” “What kind of future can he provide?”
I retorted, “The kind filled with books and happiness,”
She gave an eye roll. “Happiness doesn’t pay the bills, darling.”
Despite the fact that my family is upper middle class, my mother has always made an effort to make everyone believe that we were rich. She carefully planned our lives to look more opulent than they actually were, lied about our travels, and name-dropped at dinner parties.
I was ecstatic when Brian proposed with a straightforward yet exquisite sapphire ring.
His words, “It reminded me of your eyes,”
“That’s it?” When I showed my mother, she growled. “Not even a full carat?”
I argued, “Mom, I love it,” “It’s perfect.”
Her lips were pursed. “Well, I suppose it can be upgraded later.”
My family and Brian had a disastrous first supper together.
In addition to wearing her most costly jewellery, my mother kept talking about her “dear friend” who had a yacht in Monaco—someone I’m fairly certain didn’t exist.
To his credit, Brian was always courteous. In addition to complimenting our house and asking insightful questions about Mom’s charitable endeavours, he even brought a pricey bottle of wine, which my father, Clark, really valued.
“Where did you find this?” With real interest, Dad looked at the label and enquired.
“In Napa,” Brian said, “a small vineyard.” “The owner is an old family friend.”
My mum gave a snort. “Friends of family who own vineyards? How practical.
I said, “Mom, please…”
Dad gave her a glance. “Juliette, enough.”
Her displeasure hung heavy in the air as she just sipped her wine.
Dad drew me aside later that evening. “Eliza, I like him. He has substance.
“Thanks, Dad.”
He told me, “Your mother will come around,” but his face gave the impression that he didn’t really believe it. “Just give her time.”
I said, “I don’t care if she does,” as I saw Brian assist with dishwashing in spite of Mom’s objections. “I’m marrying him either way.”
The months before our wedding were stressful. At every planning meeting, Mom made sarcastic comments, wondering why Brian’s family wasn’t there.
I clarified, “They’re very private people,”
She made fun of his career choice. “Books are dying, you know!”
She also spared not even his clothes. “Doesn’t he own anything that isn’t from a department store?”
She cornered me in my childhood bedroom the night before our wedding.
She sat on the edge of my bed and said, “It’s not too late to call this off,” “People would understand.”
I looked at her in disbelief. “I love him, Mom.”
“Eliza, love is short-lived. Security does. Money does.
“I don’t care about money… he makes me feel secure.”
“With what? books from the library?” She gave a headshake. “I raised you for better things.”
“Mom, you brought me up to be content. Dad did, at least.
Her expression stiffened. “I promise to act appropriately tomorrow. Don’t claim I didn’t warn you, though.
“Just promise me you won’t make a scene,” I begged.
She touched her heart with her hand. “I promise to only act in your best interest.”
I ought to have realised her plans at that time.
I said, “I’m holding you to that, Mom,” not understanding the weakness I had given her.
Bright and lovely, our wedding day arrived. Brian’s dream location was a historic library with stained glass windows and lofty ceilings.
When the music began, I walked down a rose-petal-lined aisle with my father by my side, while the guests were seated behind rows of old books.
In his fitted suit, Brian looked more dapper than I had ever seen him, and as I walked up to the altar, his eyes began to well up with tears.
He muttered, “You’re so beautiful,” as Dad took my hand.
Everything went smoothly until the dreaded question was posed by the officiant: “If anyone has any objections, speak now or forever hold your peace.”
A pause was followed by the sound of fabric rustling. I turned to see my mother there with a solemn expression, and my blood froze. The crowd let out a collective gasp.
She cleared her throat theatrically and dabbed at her eyes with a silk handkerchief. “I just need to speak my truth before it’s too late.”
A startled stillness descended upon the room.
I growled, “Mom,” “what are you doing?”
Ignoring me, she turned to speak to our guests. “I want the best for my daughter because I love her.” However, she pointed to Brian as though he were something stuck to her shoe, saying, “This man —” is just not good enough. She could have had a successful man, a doctor, and a lawyer. Rather, she is squandering her future on…THIS.”
I was immobile. Dad’s face turned white with fear. My pals muttered to one another. The officiant appeared very disoriented and obviously unprepared for this circumstance.
But then Brian grinned. He gave my hands a light squeeze before turning to look at my mum.
He said, “You’re right,” and nodded. “She deserves the best.”
With a proud glitter in her eye, my mother straightened. Then, however, Brian produced a folded document from his suit pocket and gave it to her.
“What’s this?” she said, as she reluctantly unfolded it while frowning.
Her face lost its colour as she looked at the page.
“Do you recognise this?” Brian’s voice was calm as he asked. “It’s the credit report you failed.”
My mom’s fingers flew to her throat as she gasped.
“I ran a check,” he added, maintaining his kind smile. “I wanted to find out if the woman who boasts about her wealth and status all the time was truly as wealthy as she claimed to be. It turns out that you have a second mortgage that you never disclosed, are drowning in credit card debt, and—my favourite part—you were turned down for a loan only last month.”
The guests didn’t say a word. The sound of blood flowing in my ears was audible.
“Brian,” I muttered, startled by this awareness.
My mom’s mouth opened, but she didn’t make a sound.
She stammered, “That’s private information,” at last.
Brian laughed. Because I didn’t fit your definition of rich, I’ve always known you didn’t like me. Here’s the problem, though. He stopped and looked at me, his eyes full of affection. Then he faced my mum once more.
“I’m a billionaire.”
I gasped. Dad was really gasping for breath next to me. Everyone in the crowd gasped.
My mother almost tripped over her pricey heels as she staggered backward.
“What?” I muttered, looking incredulously at Brian.
Brian clarified, “My family is old money,” loud enough for everyone to hear. However, I don’t promote that since I wanted to find a partner that loved me for who I am, not for how much money I make. I therefore lead a modest life. I have a career that I enjoy. And you know what? My money never once mattered to your daughter. Not like you.
The quiet was overwhelming. My mother shuddered, searching frantically for assistance but finding none.
“Is this true?” Quietly, I asked Brian.
His eyes were warm and unblinking as he turned to face me. “Yes. After the honeymoon, I planned to inform you. The library where I work is owned by me. and a number of others throughout the nation, among other things.”
As I tried to take in this information, I shook my head.
He asked, suddenly unsure, “Are you angry?”
“You’re wealthy? No. That you didn’t tell me? “A little,” I said. “But I understand why you did it.”
Brian grasped both of my hands. “Do you still want to marry me?”
I didn’t think twice.
I said, “More than ever,” and then I grabbed his face and gave him a kiss at the altar.
The audience cheered and applauded.
Embarrassed, my mother turned and fled the theatre.
After the ceremony, Dad stayed and gave us both hugs while crying.
His words, “I had no idea,” were repeated. “None at all.”
“Would it have mattered?” Brian questioned him.
Dad gave him a shoulder clap and grinned. “Son, not at all. Not at all.
We had the most exquisite reception after being married. I was greeted with wide arms by Brian’s parents, who flew in covertly for the ceremony.
They provided an explanation for their absence from the engagement. They frequently used their wealth to travel overseas for charitable purposes.
My phone rang with a text from Dad later that evening when we were dancing beneath the stars:
“You won’t hear from your mother for a while. But between us? Never before have I been so proud of you. I always hoped you would find a man who values you more than anything else, and Brian is just that kind of man. “Money or no money.”
Brian grinned as I showed him the message.
“Your dad’s a wise man.”
I sighed. “Unlike my mother,” I said.
Brian drew me in. “You know, the villains in all the best stories aren’t bad because they’re rich or poor. They value the wrong things, which makes them evil.
“Is that from Gatsby?” I made fun of it.
“No,” he chuckled. “That one’s all mine.”
As we swung beneath the sparkling lights, surrounded by books and affection, I came to the sobering realisation that having the guts to live truly and love fully is what truly defines wealth, not having money accounts or status symbols.
I had met a partner that embodied that wonderfully, but my mother might never get it. I became the wealthiest lady in the world as a result.
