While preparing for my niece’s christening, I met a man different from anyone I had ever known. He was kind, thoughtful, and impossible not to like. But he had made a choice long before we met, one that stood between us. I never imagined how it would all end—or how much it would change me.
I stood in front of Sarah’s house, shifting my weight from one foot to the other. That day, we were finalizing the details for Ellie’s christening, something Sarah had been stressing about for weeks.
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I rang the doorbell and waited. Nothing. I rang it again. Still nothing. Frowning, I tried the handle—it turned easily. The door was unlocked.
Stepping inside, I was immediately hit by a wall of noise. Ellie’s wails filled the house, high-pitched and relentless.
Sarah was darting back and forth, juggling bottles and stuffed animals with the frantic energy of someone running on two hours of sleep. Mark stood nearby, hands hovering uselessly as he attempted to soothe Ellie.
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Silently, I slipped into the kitchen, grabbed a mug, and poured myself some coffee.
A moment later, Sarah rushed into the kitchen, her hair a mess, her face flushed. Her eyes widened.
“Oh, God! You scared me!” she gasped, pressing a hand to her chest. “How long have you been standing there?”
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“A while,” I said, taking another sip of coffee.
She frowned. “You could have helped, you know.”
I leaned against the counter. “I’m here for moral support.”
Sarah rolled her eyes. “You’re impossible.”
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Just then, the doorbell rang. Sarah straightened, her whole demeanor changing. “Oh, that must be him!” she said, hurrying toward the door.
At least she heard this doorbell.
Curious, I followed her. As I stepped into the hallway, I saw a man standing at the entrance. A very attractive man. Very attractive.
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Sarah smirked. “Claire, are you done with your coffee?”
“Something like that,” I said, my eyes still on him.
Sarah gestured toward him. “Then I’d like to introduce you. Claire, this is Father Nathan. He’ll be christening Ellie.”
I blinked. “Father?” I looked him up and down. No collar. No robe. “Where’s your—” I made a circle around my neck.
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“I’m allowed to wear regular clothes,” he said, amused.
I crossed my arms. “You don’t look like a priest.”
“Thank you. I’ll take that as a compliment,” he said, still smiling.
“You should,” I said.
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Sarah clapped her hands together. “Alright, let’s go over the details.”
We all moved into the living room. I sat at the far end, keeping my distance from the baby. She made me nervous.
All babies did. Sarah and Mark discussed the ceremony, asking Nathan about traditions and schedules. I tuned most of it out.
“So, what do you do?” Nathan asked, turning to me.
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“Oh, I own an art supply store,” I said.
“You’re an artist?”
“No, but I sell materials for artists. Without me, they’d be nothing,” I said.
He laughed. A real, warm laugh.
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For the first time all day, I felt seen. The meeting went on, but Nathan and I kept talking. Jokes, small talk, teasing. It felt easy. Familiar.
When we were both in the entryway, getting ready to leave, he asked, “Why aren’t you the godmother?”
“Babies scare me. And kids.”
“Oh, I understand. Me too.”
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“But you’re—”
“These will be my first christenings. I just hope I don’t forget that babies can’t swim,” he said.
I laughed. “That’s an honest answer.”
“Lying is a sin. And He sees everything,” Nathan said, pointing to the ceiling. He hesitated, then added, “I’d love to see you at church sometime.”
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I swallowed. “Oh, I wouldn’t call myself particularly religious.”
“Well, if you ever feel like it, I’ll be there,” he said.
And I don’t know why, but I listened to him.
That Sunday, I found myself sitting in a wooden pew, surrounded by families, older couples, and a few scattered individuals like me.
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The church smelled of candle wax and old books. I folded my hands in my lap, unsure what to do.
Nathan spoke with ease, his voice warm, his words thoughtful. He told stories, made people laugh, yet never lost the meaning behind his sermon. People seemed to like him—and oh, how I understood why.
Nathan was impossible not to like.
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After the service, I walked toward him.
“So, you actually came,” Nathan said, smiling.
I nodded. “Yeah. It was… different. In a good way.”
“Glad to hear that. I try not to make people fall asleep.” He grinned.
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“Well, you kept me awake,” I said.
“Would you like some coffee or tea?” he asked.
“I’d love some,” I said, and he led me to his… office? I wasn’t sure what they were called.
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That day, we talked for hours. The conversation flowed so easily—about faith, the church, people, and life in general.
Nathan listened without judgment, spoke with honesty, and made me think in ways I hadn’t before.
I felt more comfortable with him than I had with anyone in a long time. That should have been a good thing, but it wasn’t.
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He was a priest. And it killed me to know that he was a priest—that I could never have a real relationship with him.
Still, I kept coming back. Almost every day, we found something new to talk about.
One day, we sat on a park bench, the sun warm against my skin. Talking to Nathan felt easy, natural.
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“You can’t get married. What would you do if you liked someone?” I asked, glancing at him.
He smirked. “I’d invite her to my services, talk to her, agree to christen her niece, and hope she leaves me alone.”
I smiled, feeling my cheeks heat up. “And if you fell in love with someone?”
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Nathan’s smile faded. He let out a slow breath. “The path I chose requires me to devote my life and love to God.”
I swallowed hard. “I could never do that.”
Nathan turned toward me. “That’s why talking to you is good for me. You challenge me. You make me question things.”
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His eyes met mine. My heart pounded. And then, without thinking, I kissed him.
For a moment, he kissed me back. Warm. Certain. Then, suddenly, he pulled away, his face pale.
“No, this is wrong,” he whispered. “I’m sorry.” He stood up and walked away.
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I sat frozen, watching him disappear, feeling like I had just lost something I never really had.
The next day, my phone rang early. Sarah’s voice came through, shaky and rushed.
“Claire, he backed out! Nathan won’t do the christening. It’s tomorrow! What am I supposed to do?”
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I gripped the phone tighter. “What? Why?”
“He didn’t say. Just told Mark he couldn’t do it.”
I closed my eyes. I knew why. This was because of me. I tried to calm Sarah, but she was too upset.
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After hanging up, I went to the church. Nathan wasn’t there. No one knew where he was.
That evening, a knock at my door startled me. I opened it and froze. Nathan stood there, his expression unreadable.
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“Your sister gave me your address,” he said. His voice was quiet, but his eyes held something heavy.
I stepped aside. “Come in.”
He walked in, standing awkwardly in the middle of my living room. I crossed my arms. “Sarah is panicking. You need to do the christening.”
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Nathan sighed. “I already agreed. My conscience wouldn’t let me refuse.”
Relief flooded through me. “Good. Then why are you here?”
He ran a hand through his hair, looking more unsure than I’d seen him. “I gave up a lot to have the life I have. Years of training, sacrifice, purpose. Then you showed up.” His eyes met mine. “And now, I doubt everything.”
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I swallowed hard. “I’m sorry.”
“I can’t stop thinking about you. I pray, I work, I read, and it’s still you. It should be Him. My mind should be clear. It’s not.”
I stared at him, unable to speak. My throat tightened, my chest ached.
“Screw it,” Nathan muttered. Then, before I could react, he grabbed me and kissed me.
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I kissed him back without hesitation.
He stayed the night…If you know what I mean.
By morning, I stared at the ceiling, my heart pounding. I felt warm beside him, but my mind spun.
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“I can’t believe you actually did this,” I said, barely above a whisper.
Nathan sat up, rubbing his face. “Neither can I.”
We both knew what this meant.
It was the day of the christening. Nathan dressed quickly, avoiding my eyes.
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He muttered something about needing to be at the church early. Then he was gone.
I sat on the edge of my bed, staring at the empty space where he had been. My heart felt heavy, but I pushed the feeling down.
I got ready, put on a simple dress, and drove to the church.
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The ceremony went perfectly. Nathan spoke with warmth and confidence, his voice steady, his smile easy. No one would have guessed he was struggling.
Afterward, Sarah and Mark hosted a celebration. Laughter filled the house, food covered the table, and everyone seemed happy.
Nathan and I left at the same time. We didn’t plan it, but suddenly, we were standing outside together, alone.
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The air between us was thick with unspoken words. I knew this was it. The moment I had been dreading.
“You did well today,” I said. My voice was even, but I felt unsteady.
“Thanks.” Nathan wouldn’t look at me.
I exhaled slowly. “It’s not going to be me, is it?” My voice wavered. “It’s going to be Him.”
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He finally met my eyes. “…Yeah.”
I let out a small, sad laugh. My vision blurred. “The funniest part of all this? I love you.”
Nathan pulled me into a tight hug, his arms lingering before he let go.
“This won’t last forever,” he murmured.
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I forced a smile. “So… see you Sunday at mass?”
Nathan chuckled, though his eyes were sad. “Yeah. But seriously? You’re banned from my services for life.”
He turned, hesitated, then looked back.
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“I love you too.”
Then he walked away.
And that was the last time I ever saw him.
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My MIL Demanded to Sit Between Me and Her Son at Our Wedding – She Didn’t Expect Me to Agree So Easily
When Julia’s future mother-in-law, Patricia, demanded a seat between her and Ethan at their wedding, it seemed like another over-the-top move in a long list of controlling behaviors. But Julia’s response wasn’t what anyone expected.
When I agreed to Patricia’s absurd demand on my wedding day, I saw the look of triumph on her face. She thought she’d won, and that I’d back down like I always had before.
But this time was different. This time, I had a plan that would make her re-evaluate her actions.
A woman standing in her bedroom | Source: Midjourney
When I got engaged to Ethan, I knew I wasn’t just marrying him.
I was also marrying into his tight-knit, borderline suffocating relationship with his mother, Patricia. She loved Ethan fiercely, and while that’s usually a good thing, in this case, it felt like I was competing with her for his attention.
From the moment we announced our engagement, Patricia seemed to think it was her wedding, not mine.
A man holding a woman’s hand | Source: Pexels
“Oh, Julia, lilies are too plain for a wedding,” she’d said during our first meeting with the florist, wrinkling her nose. “Roses are more elegant. Ethan loves roses, don’t you, sweetheart?”
Ethan had nodded absentmindedly, scrolling on his phone.
I just smiled as I reminded myself to pick my battles. But it wasn’t just the flowers.
The thing is, she had opinions on everything. And guess what? She even had the audacity to tell me what to wear on my big day.
A mature woman looking straight ahead | Source: Midjourney
“Are you sure you want to wear something so… fitted?” she asked during a fitting. “It might be uncomfortable for the ceremony.”
I laughed it off, but deep down, I was fuming.
I let it slide because I knew arguing with Patricia meant trying to move a boulder uphill. Explaining anything to her wasn’t worth the effort because she had this ‘I-know-I-am-always-right’ kind of attitude.
A woman standing in a living room | Source: Midjourney
One evening, I invited her over for dinner, hoping to bridge the gap.
I spent hours cooking Ethan’s favorite lasagna from scratch, with garlic bread and a Caesar salad.
When she arrived, I greeted her warmly, trying to make her feel welcome.
When Ethan tasted the lasagna, he couldn’t help but praise my cooking skills.
“Wow, this is amazing, Jules!” he said. “I love it!”
But Patricia couldn’t watch her son speak in my favor.
“Well, of course, it’s good,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Lasagna isn’t exactly rocket science, is it?”
A dish of lasagna | Source: Pexels
Ethan didn’t even notice what her mother said, while I could feel my cheeks burning.
“I’m glad you like it, Ethan,” I said softly, forcing myself to stay calm.
Later that evening, as I cleared the plates, she cornered me in the kitchen.
A woman standing in a house | Source: Midjourney
“Julia,” she began, “I know you mean well, but a man like Ethan needs more than just a pretty face and a passable lasagna. Marriage is a lot of work, dear.”
I wanted to snap back, to tell her to stop undermining me in my own home. But instead, I nodded and said, “Thank you for the advice, Patricia. I’ll keep that in mind.”
The incidents kept piling up.
A woman standing a window | Source: Pexels
Like the time she “accidentally” booked a weekend spa trip with Ethan the same weekend we had planned to visit a venue.
“Oh, I didn’t realize you’d made plans,” she said, feigning innocence. “Ethan, you’ll still come with me, won’t you?”
And, of course, he did.
But even with all of that, I never expected Patricia to pull a stunt at the wedding itself.
That was the moment I realized I couldn’t stay silent anymore.
A bride standing at her wedding | Source: Pexels
The day of the wedding was beautiful.
Bright skies, a gentle breeze, and the kind of warmth that made everything feel just right.
I should’ve been focused on the joy of marrying Ethan, but the moment Patricia arrived, it was clear the spotlight wasn’t mine to keep.
She stepped out of her car in a white, floor-length lace dress with glittering rhinestones, a small train trailing behind her.
A woman in a white gown | Source: Midjourney
For a second, I thought she’d accidentally swapped dresses with me. Then I realized it wasn’t an accident.
“Ethan, darling! Look at you!” Patricia beamed, rushing over to him as I stood just a few feet away. “Doesn’t he look like the most handsome man in the world, Julia?” she asked, not waiting for an answer as she smoothed his tie and kissed his cheek.
I smiled tightly. “He does, Patricia. You must be so proud.”
“Oh, I am,” she gushed. “He’s always been my rock, my number one.”
A woman at her son’s wedding | Source: Midjourney
That was Patricia’s signature move. To make sure everyone knew exactly where she stood in Ethan’s life.
At that point, I reminded myself to breathe. This was my day, not hers. Or at least, it was supposed to be.
When it was time for the reception, I was ready to let go of the small jabs and focus on enjoying the evening.
A woman in her wedding gown | Source: Midjourney
Ethan and I walked to the head table, hand in hand, smiling at our guests. But just as we reached our seats, I noticed Patricia hovering nearby.
Before I could process what was happening, she grabbed a chair from a nearby table, dragged it loudly across the floor, and wedged it right between Ethan and me.
“There!” she announced, plopping down with a smug smile. “Now I can sit next to my son. I wouldn’t want to miss a moment with him on such a special day.”
A mature woman at her son’s wedding reception | Source: Midjourney
A ripple of gasps spread through the room.
I glanced at Ethan, waiting for him to say something, anything, to put this situation right.
Instead, he just shrugged.
“Patricia, this is the bride and groom’s table,” I said. “We’re supposed to sit together.”
But Patricia wasn’t one of those people who’d understand so easily.
“Oh, Julia,” she sighed. “Don’t be so sensitive. I am the most important woman in his life, and I always will be. You should respect that.”
A man at his wedding | Source: Midjourney
That’s when Ethan finally spoke up. But he didn’t say what I wanted him to.
“It’s fine, babe,” he said, as if this were no big deal. “It’s just a chair.”
Just a chair, I thought. Just a chair? Alright.
“You know what, Patricia?” I said with a sweet smile. “You’re absolutely right. Let’s do it your way.”
Her face lit up with surprise, and she grinned as though she’d won.
Little did she know, I had a plan in my mind that would make her face flush with embarrassment.
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Patricia leaned back in her chair, basking in what she clearly thought was her victory.
Meanwhile, Ethan busied himself greeting guests as though nothing unusual had happened.
I stayed seated for a few minutes as I forced a smile and pretended to go along with the charade. But inside, I was seething.
“Excuse me for a moment,” I said, standing up and smoothing my dress. “I need to step away for a bit.”
Neither Patricia nor Ethan paid much attention as I walked toward the hallway.
A bride walking away | Source: Midjourney
Once I was out of sight, I pulled out my phone to make an important call.
“Hi, this is Julia,” I said, my voice calm and composed despite the fire burning inside me. “I need to make a last-minute adjustment to the cake. Yes, I know it’s short notice, but it’s really important.”
The person on the other end hesitated for a moment before asking for details. I smiled to myself, knowing this would be worth every extra penny.
A woman standing in a hallway | Source: Midjourney
“I’ll send you a photo right now,” I continued. “Just follow the instructions, and make sure it’s delivered before the cake cutting. Can you make it happen?”
The answer was a tentative yes, and I quickly sent over the picture and specifics.
“Perfect,” I said. “Thank you so much.”
After hanging up, I took a moment to collect myself, adjusting my veil and letting the grin tugging at the corners of my lips fade into a neutral expression.
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By the time I returned to the head table, Patricia was still holding court, reliving one of Ethan’s childhood stories for the hundredth time.
I sat down quietly, keeping my eyes on her and mentally counting down the moments until my plan unfolded.
Then came the time for the first dance, and I was ready for Patricia’s next move.
Sure enough, as the music started and Ethan extended a hand toward me, Patricia swooped in like a hawk.
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“Oh, Ethan, let’s show them how it’s done!” she said, grabbing his hand and practically dragging him to the dance floor before I could respond.
I stood there and watched as they swayed to the music.
Patricia beamed as she danced with her son, while the guests exchanged uneasy glances.
“That’s… unusual,” I heard one guest murmur.
“Isn’t the first dance supposed to be with the bride?” another whispered.
But I just smiled, keeping my expression serene. If anyone thought I was upset, they were wrong.
This was all going exactly how I wanted it to.
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After what felt like an eternity, Ethan finally returned to the table.
“Sorry about that,” he mumbled as he sat down.
“It’s fine,” I lied.
I glanced at Patricia, who was enjoying the attention she thought she’d stolen.
And then came the moment I’d been waiting for. The cake cutting.
The lights dimmed, and my bridesmaids carried in the three-tiered masterpiece, sparklers flickering as the crowd clapped and cheered.
Patricia’s smile widened as the cake approached, but when it came fully into view, she looked at it with wide eyes.
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Perched on top of the cake were two figurines, and they were not of a bride and groom.
Instead, they showed a groom and his mother, posed arm-in-arm. The resemblance was uncanny. Ethan’s tie and Patricia’s pearl necklace were all there.
“Surprise!” I cheered. “How’s the cake, Patricia?”
“Julia…” she stammered, her voice trembling. “W-What is this supposed to mean?”
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I stood up slowly with the microphone in my hand.
“Patricia, Ethan,” I smiled as I looked at them. “I wanted to honor the bond you two share. It’s clear to everyone here that you’re the real pair of the evening. So, please cut this beautiful symbol of your relationship together. You deserve it.”
The room erupted into murmurs, a few stifled giggles escaping here and there. Patricia’s hands shook as I placed the knife in her grasp.
“Go on,” I said sweetly. “Everyone’s watching.”
A woman at her wedding reception | Source: Midjourney
Patricia looked to Ethan, her eyes pleading, but he was too stunned to speak.
“Julia,” she hissed through gritted teeth. “This is inappropriate.”
“Inappropriate?” I echoed with mock surprise. “Oh, Patricia, don’t be so sensitive. After all, you’re the most important woman in his life. Isn’t that what you’ve been telling me?”
A ripple of laughter spread through the guests, and I knew I had them on my side. Meanwhile, Patricia’s friends exchanged awkward glances. They felt clearly uncomfortable with the spectacle.
Two women attending the wedding reception of their friend’s son | Source: Midjourney
I leaned into the microphone one last time. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have better things to do than fight for scraps of attention on my own wedding day.”
I turned on my heel, signaled to my bridesmaids, and walked out of the reception.
Behind me, I heard chairs shuffle, whispers grow louder, and the faint clinking of glasses. The crowd was beginning to disperse, leaving Patricia and Ethan in the awkward spotlight.
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By the time we reached the limo, my bridesmaids and I were laughing so hard, we could barely breathe.
We popped champagne and toasted to freedom. They understood why I’d decided not to marry Ethan.
Later, I heard Patricia tried to save face, but even her closest friends had their limits.
“You brought this on yourself,” one reportedly told her.
And Ethan? Well, he did come begging for another chance, but I was done. I canceled the marriage license the next morning and officially closed that chapter of my life.
A woman standing in a hallway | Source: Midjourney
No regrets, and no second thoughts. Just a massive amount of relief and the knowledge that Patricia finally got the attention she always craved.
What would you have done if you were in my shoes?
If you enjoyed reading this story, here’s another one you might like: Caught in the whirlwind of wedding bliss and familial conflict, Candice’s story unravels at the seams when her mother-in-law’s antics push her to a breaking point.
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
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