My Future Brother-in-Law Was Always a Pain, but He Went Too Far at Our....

 


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

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

My future brother-in-law was always difficult—disrespectful, full of himself, and always pushing limits. However, on my wedding day, he crossed a boundary we could never accept. He embarrassed me in front of everyone, turning my perfect occasion into a disaster. That was the breaking point, and my fiancé and I had finally had enough.

When Michael and I began dating, everything seemed like a fairytale. Not an ideal one, but one with unexpected surprises.

Yes, I cried when I was late for our first date. I hurried into the restaurant, breathless and embarrassed.

Tears filled my eyes as I tried to explain—traffic, spilled coffee, a broken shoe.

Michael sat quietly, unsure of what to say.

We finished dinner, but he didn’t call me for a week. I thought I had scared him away.

Soon after, we saw each other again at a mutual friend's gathering. I explained I was just emotional, and to my surprise, he understood and admitted he was the same.

That party was six years ago, and since then, we had never been apart. I no longer cried alone over sad movies—Michael cried with me. He was my soulmate, and I knew he felt the same.

Our relationship progressed quickly. After just three months, we moved in together, and we stayed that way for six years.

But we never managed to plan a wedding. Something always came up—either I had a crisis or Michael did—and we kept postponing the ceremony.

Eight months ago, Michael proposed. He planned it so perfectly I didn’t suspect a thing, making the moment even more special. Still, I knew I wanted to marry him without needing a proposal.

However, there was one issue—his family, especially his brother Jordan.

Jordan was unpleasant. Rude, arrogant, and convinced he was superior to everyone, even Michael.

He was only three years older, but he constantly reminded Michael that he was the older sibling.

I remember our first meeting with his parents. Since Jordan still lived at home—as an adult—he was there too. Not exactly as “amazing” as he claimed.

At first, it seemed okay. We exchanged polite words. But when I left to use the bathroom, Jordan was waiting.

"Bored yet?" he asked with a smug smile.

I froze. "No, I’m fine," I replied, trying to sound polite but firm.

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He chuckled. "Let’s go have some fun," he said, walking closer.

I stepped back slightly. "Really, I’m okay," I said cautiously. An uneasy feeling crept up my spine.

He tilted his head. "Come on. My brother doesn’t need someone like you. You’d enjoy my company more," he said coldly, with a smooth voice.

Before I could react, he grabbed my waist. His hand slid lower, pressing against my backside.

"Get off me!" I yelled, pushing him away. Heart pounding, I hurried back to the dining area, my breathing shaky.

Michael looked up as I approached. I placed a hand on my stomach, forcing a weak smile. "I don’t feel well. Can we leave?"

He immediately stood. "Of course."

His parents looked concerned. "It was nice to meet you, Danica," they said as we hugged goodbye.

Once in the car, Michael looked at me. "Are you okay? Did you eat something bad?"

I took a deep breath. "Jordan hit on me," I said frankly.

Michael’s grip on the wheel tightened. "What?! That guy’s disgusting!" His jaw clenched. "I’ll talk to him."

Michael addressed Jordan, but Jordan just laughed it off. He claimed he was “testing me” as Michael’s older brother, pretending his behavior was harmless. I didn’t believe him for a second, but Michael didn’t press him further.

Sometimes, I wondered if Michael was afraid of his brother. Growing up, Jordan often bullied and teased him.

He always found ways to make Michael feel small, as if he was less significant. Their bond was never close, but Michael tried to keep peace.

But when Jordan’s harassment continued, even Michael had to admit it wasn’t a joke anymore.

Then, unwanted messages started. Inappropriate texts, pictures, nasty words. I blocked his number.

When I told Michael I didn’t want Jordan at our wedding, he agreed immediately.

One evening, Michael came home looking exhausted. He sighed and sank onto the sofa next to me, shoulders heavy.

"What happened?" I asked, noticing his slump.

He rubbed his face and took a long breath. "I talked to my parents. If Jordan isn’t invited, they said they won’t come either." His tone was quiet, full of frustration.

I felt a sharp hurt. "That’s unfair," I said, fists clenched.

"I know," Michael muttered, staring at the floor.

"The way he treated me—harassment, disgusting messages

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