I never imagined my wedding would turn into such a spectacle. Trouble started even before the ceremony when my mother-in-law insisted on being maid of honor because she was “young and beautiful.” To keep peace, I agreed.

Then she arrived in a long white gown—more suited for a bride than a guest—and even yanked the bouquet from my hands, posing as if the day belonged to her. I refused to take photos beside her, holding back tears.

But the real shock came at the altar. When the priest asked if anyone objected, she raised her hand:

— I object! This is my only son, and I won’t give him up. Son, let’s go home!

Guests gasped. My husband froze. I stayed calm and said loudly:

— Mom, did you forget your medicine again? The doctor warned missing a dose makes you ramble. Shall I bring water?

Then to the guests:

— Please excuse her, she’s confused.

Flustered, she sat down, and the ceremony went on. I realized protecting happiness sometimes requires quick wit.