Patricia, my fiancé Ethan’s controlling mother, had always been a problem, but at our wedding, she took it too far. From criticizing the details of the wedding to showing up in a white lace gown, she made it clear she wasn’t just part of our marriage—she intended to run it.
At the reception, Patricia grabbed a chair and sat between Ethan and me. When he shrugged it off, something inside me snapped. I excused myself, called the bakery, and had a figurine of a groom and his mother put on top of the wedding cake instead of the bride and groom.
When the cake was revealed, the crowd laughed, and I took the microphone, addressing Patricia and Ethan. By the time I left, I was laughing too, realizing I had dodged a lifetime of misery. Ethan begged for another chance, but I sent him the canceled marriage license. I walked away from a life where I’d always be second, and I’ve never looked back.