My Mother-in-Law Demands to Sit Between Her Son and Me at Our Wedding – She Didn’t Expect Me to Agree So Easily

When I accepted Patricia’s absurd proposal on my wedding day, I saw a look of triumph on her face. She thought she had won and that I was going to back down like I always had before.

But this time it was different. This time I had a plan that would make him think about his actions.

When I got engaged to Ethan, I knew I wasn’t just marrying him.

I also embraced her very close, almost smothering relationship with her mother, Patricia. She loved Ethan fiercely, and while that was usually a good thing, in this case I 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 and not mine.

“Oh, Julia, lilies are too plain for a wedding,” she had said when we first met the florist, wrinkling her nose. “Roses are more elegant. Ethan loves roses, doesn’t he, darling?”

Ethan had nodded absently, scrolling through his phone.

I just smiled, reminding myself that I had to pick my battles. But it wasn’t just the flowers.

The thing is, she had opinions about everything. And guess what? She even had the audacity to tell me what to wear on the big day.

“Are you sure you want to wear something so… tight?” she asked during a fitting. “It might be uncomfortable for the ceremony.”

I laughed, but deep down I was furious.

I let it slide because I knew that arguing with Patricia was like trying to move a boulder upstream. Explaining anything to her wasn’t worth it because she had an “I know I’m always right” attitude.

One night I invited her to dinner, hoping to bridge the gap.

I spent hours making Ethan’s favorite lasagna, with garlic bread and Caesar salad.

When she arrived, I greeted her warmly to make her feel welcome.

When Ethan tasted the lasagna, he couldn’t help but praise my cooking skills.

“Wow, that’s amazing, Jules!” he said. “I love it!”

But Patricia couldn’t watch her son speak on my behalf.

“Of course it’s good,” she said, her voice full of sarcasm. “Lasagna isn’t exactly science fiction, is it?”

Ethan didn’t even notice what his mother said, as I felt my cheeks burning.

“I’m glad you like it, Ethan,” I said quietly, forcing myself to stay calm.

Later that evening, while I was clearing away the plates, she cornered me in the kitchen.

“Julia,” she began, “I know you mean well, but a man like Ethan needs more than a pretty face and some decent lasagna. Marriage is a lot of work, my dear.”

I wanted to retort, to tell him to stop undermining me in my own home. But instead, I nodded and said, “Thanks for the advice, Patricia. I’ll remember it.”

The incidents have been piling up.

Like the time she “accidentally” booked a spa weekend with Ethan the same weekend we were planning to visit a performance venue.

“Oh, I didn’t realize you had plans,” she said, feigning innocence. “Ethan, you’re still coming with me, right?”

And, of course, he came.

But even with all that, I didn’t expect Patricia to make a splash at the wedding.

That’s when I realized I couldn’t stay silent anymore.

The wedding day was beautiful.

Bright skies, a light breeze and the kind of warmth that makes everything seem fine.

I should have focused on the joy of marrying Ethan, but once Patricia arrived, it became clear that it wasn’t my place to keep the spotlight.

She got out of her car in a floor-length white lace dress with sparkling rhinestones and a small train trailing behind her.

For a second I thought she had accidentally switched her dress with mine. Then I realized it wasn’t an accident.

“Ethan, honey! Look at you!” Patricia beamed, rushing over to her son as I stood a few feet away. “Doesn’t he look like the most handsome man in the world, Julia?” she asked, not waiting for an answer, straightening his tie and kissing his cheek.

I smiled with all my might. “That’s right, Patricia. You must be very proud.”

“Oh, I am,” she exclaimed. “He’s always been my rock, my number one.”

It was Patricia’s signature move. Making sure everyone knew exactly where she stood in Ethan’s life.

At that moment, I reminded myself to breathe. This was my day, not his. Or at least, it was supposed to be.

By the time the reception arrived, I was ready to let the fun begin and focus on enjoying the evening.

Ethan and I walked toward 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 comprehend what was happening, she grabbed a chair from a nearby table, dragged it noisily across the floor, and wedged it right between Ethan and me.

“Here you go!” she announced, sitting down with a smug smile. “Now I can sit next to my son. I wouldn’t want to miss a single moment with him on this special day.”

A wave of gasps spread through the room.

I glanced at Ethan, waiting for him to say something, anything, to make things right.

Instead, he just shrugged.

“Patricia, this is the wedding table,” I said. “We’re supposed to sit together.”

But Patricia was not one of those who understand so easily.