My Fiancé Humiliated Me in His Wedding Vows

It was the day that I had been waiting for. After months of wedding planning and dieting to fit into my dream dress. This was the moment.

Bride walking down the aisle | Source: Midjourney

“Come on, darling,” my father said, holding out his hand, ready to walk me down the aisle to Jason.

“How do you feel?” my father asked me, kissing my forehead.

“Happy,” I said simply. “I’ve been dreaming of this moment for years now, Dad.”

We walked down the aisle to soft music that I had chosen months ago. The guitarist perched on a wooden stool.

A bride and her father | Source: Midjourney

“You look beautiful, Emily,” Jason said, taking my hand from my father.

The ceremony began with the priest talking about love and commitment, just as he had told us he would.

“It’s time for the vows,” the priest said, smiling at us both.

“Jason, you are my best friend, and I’ve always wanted to marry my best friend. I promise to support you, to always laugh with you, and to grow with you. I vow to be faithful and cherish every moment we have together. In this life, and the next.”

Bride saying her wedding vows | Source: Midjourney

My sister sighed next to me, wiping away her tears.

“Jason,” the priest said. “It’s now your turn.”

Jason looked at me and smiled, and then he turned to his groomsmen, causing them to snigger.

A bridesmaid crying at a wedding | Source: Midjourney

“Emily, my love,” he said. “I promise to always be there for you, even when you’re nagging me to take out the trash because you think the house smells.”

Jason’s groomsmen chuckled.

“And I’ll always hold your hand, especially when we’re walking through spider-infested areas because we all know how much you love those eight-legged critters.”

The groomsmen laughed louder. Some of our guests joined in.

Groomsmen laughing | Source: Midjourney

And still, Jason continued.

“I vow to remind you to pick up your dragging feet when you walk, so we can avoid another trip to the emergency room like that time you tripped over absolutely nothing. And to taste all the burnt lasagna in the world because that’s your signature dish.”

The more Jason spoke, the more embarrassed I got.

Groom reading his vows | Source: Midjourney

I frowned at him, hoping that he would understand that there was nothing beautiful or romantic about his words. But he ignored me and continued.

“Also, I will tolerate your singing in the shower. It may sound like a cat in distress but at least it makes me appreciate good music! And most importantly, Emily,” he said.

“I promise to forgive you for basically forcing me to propose to you after you left those bridal magazines all over the apartment.”

My jaw dropped.

A woman in the shower | Source: Unsplash

I didn’t know how to react. Jason’s groomsmen were all but falling over each other with laughter.

“Really?” I whispered to him.

Jason winked.

“Now, it’s time for you to exchange rings,” the priest said.

Jason’s niece came up to the altar with the wedding rings tied onto a little cushion that she clutched tightly.

“Here you go, Aunty Emily,” she said nervously.

A little girl holding a ring cushion | Source: Midjourney

“Thank you, sweetheart,” I said, taking the rings from her.

Holding the rings, I realized I didn’t want to put Jason’s ring on his finger. We were married now, all but for signing the registration book.

But after hearing Jason’s vows, I didn’t know if I wanted to be with this man.

“Give me your hand,” Jason said, pulling my hand.

He slid the ring onto my finger and held his hand out for me to do the same.

A bride putting on the groom's wedding ring | Source: Unsplash

My stomach turned. Suddenly, my dream bubble had burst. Nothing felt as it had moments before.

“Jason, you may now kiss the bride!” the priest exclaimed.

Jason grabbed my waist and pulled me close to him, his other hand gripping the back of my neck. He kissed me without passion or feeling.

A couple kissing at the altar | Source: Midjourney

“What on earth was that?” I asked Jason when we were doing our photographs before the reception.

“What do you mean?” he asked, frowning.

“Your vows,” I said. “They were insensitive and embarrassing.”

“No! They were cute!” he said. “I kept them true to us.”

A bridal couple talking outside | Source: Midjourney

“You basically told everyone that I’m a nag and clumsy. And that I forced you into marrying me.”

I crossed my arms and waited for some kind of explanation.

“Oh, come on, Emily,” he said. “Everyone was laughing. It’s not as deep as you’re making it. Let’s just do this photoshoot and go back to the party. I am starving.”

I bit my tongue. I didn’t have it in me to fight.

A smiling groom | Source: Unsplash

At the reception, Jason truly let himself go. He went overboard with the drinks and ate enough steak and potatoes to make anyone sick to their stomach.

“Mom,” I said, kneeling next to my mother before the formalities began. “I don’t feel good.”

“What do you mean, sweetheart?” my mother asked.

“Jason…” I said, my voice trailing as the weight of my uneasiness set in. “Those vows were nothing but an embarrassment.”

“Maybe it was just nerves, Emily,” my mother said. “You know how Jason can be sometimes.”

A bride looking down | Source: Midjourney

“I don’t know, Mom,” I said. “I just feel like the magic has escaped.”

Soon after, the emcee got up and began the formalities. Jason’s brother stood up and spoke about how we met and his first impressions of me.

“I didn’t think Emily would stay!” Jackson laughed, his beer bottle in his hand. “But I guess she knows how to deal with my brother.”

It went on and on, and my husband ate up his brother’s words, chuckling loudly.

A man giving a speech | Source: Midjourney

Then, it was time for my father-in-law’s speech.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I have a few words to say to my son and his new bride, the lovely Emily,” he said.

I held my breath. I had always gotten along with Robert, and he had always treated me well. But I had thought the same of Jason until his vows were said.

A man giving a speech | Source: Midjourney

I didn’t know if I had to prepare myself for something from Robert, too.

If I had to be honest with myself, I just wanted to run away. I didn’t feel like a bride. I didn’t feel much like anything. I didn’t even feel like myself.

I wanted to rip off my wedding dress and get into my comfiest pair of sweatpants. I wanted to cry.

A bride feeling sad | Source: Midjourney

“Jason, do you know what makes a marriage work, son?” Robert asked.

“Uh, love? Attraction? Chemistry?” Jason said, faltering.

Who on earth is this man? I wondered to myself.

“It’s respect,” Robert said, shaking his head. “It’s about cherishing your partner and never making them feel small or embarrassed. Today, you turned your vows into a series of jokes at Emily’s expense. That was not only inappropriate but also deeply hurtful.”

A groom looking upset | Source: Midjourney

I glanced around and saw some of the guests were shaking their heads.

“To teach you a lesson, Jason,” Robert continued. “I’m going to share something about you that you might find equally embarrassing.”

“What? Dad! Stop!” Jason said, standing up.

“Jason still sleeps with a nightlight. He says that it’s because he likes to read in bed, but we all know that it’s because he’s afraid of the dark.”

A nightlight next to a bed | Source: Midjourney

Laughter erupted through the room.

“And let’s not forget about the time when Jason tried to cook for Emily and set off the fire alarm because he didn’t know that normal people don’t put metal in microwaves.”

“Dad, just stop it,” Jason hissed.

“Or about the time when he got drunk after a party, and insisted that he needed to sleep on the floor in my bedroom.”

The crowd laughed louder.

A crowd laughing | Source: Midjourney

“I shared these stories not to embarrass you, Jason. But to show you how it feels. Humor at someone else’s expense isn’t funny, it’s cruel. You need to understand the consequences of your actions.”

I smiled at Robert, finally feeling seen.

“Emily, on behalf of my son, I apologize. Jason still has a lot to learn about being a loving and respectful partner. But I know that he can do better, and I hope you give him the chance to prove it.”

A smiling bride | Source: Midjourney

“I’m so sorry, Emily,” Jason said from beside me. “I thought I was being funny, but I see how ridiculous I was being. Give me another chance.”

“Fine,” I said. “But it’s going to take more than just empty words to fix this.”

I want to give us another chance, but something still feels very off.

A close-up of a groom | Source: Midjourney

What would you do?

I Heard Our Baby Crying While I Was in the Shower & My Wife Was Watching TV – When I Entered His Room, I Screamed in Shock

One night, I rushed from the shower to find my 3-year-old son crying and covered in red paint while my wife sat nearby, glued to her iPad. Frustrated and confused, I soon uncovered a deeper issue: the silent struggle my wife had been facing, one that threatened to break our family apart.

It was a regular evening. My wife sat in the recliner, scrolling like she often did through her iPad. The kids were in bed, or so I thought. I figured it was the perfect time for a long and relaxing shower.

A woman looking at her iPad | Source: Pexels

A woman looking at her iPad | Source: Pexels

I heard a faint cry as I stood under the hot water. At first, I ignored it, thinking it was nothing serious. But then, the cry got louder, more desperate.

“Daddy! Daddy!” my 3-year-old son’s voice pierced through the sound of running water.

A child crying in his room | Source: Midjourney

A child crying in his room | Source: Midjourney

I quickly turned off the shower, grabbed a towel, and rushed out. As I passed through the family room, I glanced at my wife. She was still sitting there, glued to her iPad, completely oblivious to the chaos in the other room.

“You couldn’t calm him down?” I asked, my voice sharper than I intended.

She didn’t even look up. “I tried three times,” she said, sounding bored.

A bored woman in a tablet | Source: Pexels

A bored woman in a tablet | Source: Pexels

Three times? I shook my head, frustrated, and hurried into my son’s room. I was ready to comfort him, but nothing could’ve prepared me for what I saw next.

The moment I stepped inside, I saw him sitting up in his bed, his little body shaking as he sobbed. “Daddy, I made a mess,” he said between gasps.

“It’s okay, buddy,” I said softly, assuming it was just tears and snot. “We’ll clean it up.”

A scared child looking up | Source: Midjourney

A scared child looking up | Source: Midjourney

I walked closer and scooped him up. He clung to me tightly, still crying. His face was buried in my shoulder, and I felt wetness dripping down my neck. “Poor guy’s been crying so long,” I thought. But then, something didn’t feel right. His pajamas were too wet.

I laid him back down and grabbed my phone to turn on the flashlight. That’s when I saw it — red everywhere. At first, my heart dropped, thinking it was blood. I froze. But as I looked closer, I realized it wasn’t blood. It was red paint.

A paint palette | Source: Pexels

A paint palette | Source: Pexels

“Where did this come from?” I whispered, scanning the room. Then I saw the open jar of red paint on the small table near his crib. My wife had been painting animals with him the night before, and somehow, he must’ve knocked the jar over.

“Daddy, I’m sorry,” he cried again, his little hands covered in red.

“It’s okay,” I said, trying to stay calm. “It’s just paint. We’ll clean it up.”

A child covered in pink paint | Source: Midjourney

A child covered in pink paint | Source: Midjourney

But the more I looked, the worse it got. The paint had spilled all over his bed, his clothes, and his hair. It was everywhere. And on top of that, I realized he’d wet himself too. My frustration bubbled up. How had my wife not noticed this?

I wiped his face gently and took a deep breath. “Why didn’t Mommy come help you?” I asked softly, trying to piece things together.

He sniffled and looked at me with those big, innocent eyes. “Mommy didn’t check on me. Nobody checked on me.”

An upset child covered in pink paint | Source: Midjourney

An upset child covered in pink paint | Source: Midjourney

His words stung. I had assumed she’d tried. But now, I wasn’t so sure.

I scooped him up and carried him to the bathroom, feeling the weight of the situation sink in. Something was wrong — more than just spilled paint and wet pajamas.

My son had been left alone, scared and crying, and no one had come. As I bathed him, I couldn’t shake the image of my wife, still sitting in that chair, smiling at whatever was on her screen.

A woman smiling on her couch | Source: Pexels

A woman smiling on her couch | Source: Pexels

When we were done, I wrapped him in a towel and headed back to the family room. She hadn’t moved an inch. She didn’t even look up when I walked in.

“I don’t understand,” I said, my voice low but filled with frustration. “How could you not hear him crying?”

“I told you, I tried three times,” she repeated, her eyes glued to the screen.

“But he said you never checked on him,” I shot back, feeling my anger rise.

A man arguing with his wife | Source: Midjourney

A man arguing with his wife | Source: Midjourney

She shrugged, not saying a word.

I stood there, holding our son, dripping with paint and bathwater, feeling like I was standing on the edge of something bigger than just a bad night. Something was wrong, and I didn’t know how to fix it.

The tension in the room hung heavy, and I knew this wasn’t over. Something had to change. But what?

A man covering his face with his eyes | Source: Pexels

A man covering his face with his eyes | Source: Pexels

The next morning, I packed a bag for my son and myself. I wasn’t leaving for good — at least, not yet — but I couldn’t stay in the house. I needed space to figure things out. I didn’t tell my wife much as we left. She barely reacted anyway; she just nodded as if my decision meant nothing.

Once at my sister’s place, I made a call I hadn’t planned. I dialed my mother-in-law. I liked her well enough, but this felt like more than just updating her on a tough situation.

A man talking on his phone | Source: Pexels

A man talking on his phone | Source: Pexels

I needed answers. Maybe she’d know what was going on with her daughter because I sure didn’t.

“Hey, I need to talk to you,” I started when she picked up. “Something’s not right with your daughter.”

Her voice sounded concerned. “What’s happened? Did you have a fight?”

A woman talking on her phone in her living room | Source: Pexels

A woman talking on her phone in her living room | Source: Pexels

I sighed. “It’s more than that. She ignored our son last night, left him crying and covered in paint. I don’t know what’s going on with her, but it’s not just one bad night. She’s… distant. Uncaring. I don’t know how else to describe it.”

My mother-in-law listened carefully, and then after a long pause, she said, “I’ll come over. Let me talk to her.”

A few days later, she called me back. Her voice was softer than usual, almost hesitant.

A serious woman typing on her phone | Source: Pexels

A serious woman typing on her phone | Source: Pexels

“I spoke to her,” she said. “She finally opened up. It’s not you or the baby. It’s depression.”

That word hit me like a ton of bricks. Depression? I had never really thought of that. I had been so focused on my frustration, my anger at her behavior, that I didn’t stop to consider that something deeper was going on.

A sad man realizing his mistake | Source: Midjourney

A sad man realizing his mistake | Source: Midjourney

“She’s been struggling for a while now,” her mother continued. “The pressure of motherhood, losing time for herself, for her art. It’s been overwhelming for her. She feels trapped, like she’s lost who she is.”

I stood there, stunned. I had no idea she was feeling this way. How could I? She never said anything.

“She’s agreed to see a therapist,” her mother added. “But she’s going to need your support. This won’t be easy.”

A mature woman talking on her phone | Source: Midjourney

A mature woman talking on her phone | Source: Midjourney

Support. That word echoed in my mind. I had been angry, ready to walk away, but now I had to think about what my wife was really going through. This wasn’t about neglecting our son out of laziness or disinterest. It was deeper than that. And now, I had to figure out how to help her.

While staying with my son, I started to see things differently. Taking care of him on my own wasn’t just hard — it was exhausting.

An exhausted man with his son | Source: Midjourney

An exhausted man with his son | Source: Midjourney

Every day was a blur of diapers, tantrums, and trying to keep him entertained. There was barely a moment to breathe, let alone think. By the time I put him to bed, I was drained, both physically and mentally.

I thought about how my wife had been doing this daily for years without a break. She’d put her art aside to take care of our family, but in doing that, she lost a part of herself. The weight of motherhood had quietly crushed her spirit, and I hadn’t noticed.

A sad blonde woman | Source: Midjourney

A sad blonde woman | Source: Midjourney

Over the next few weeks, things slowly started to change. My wife began seeing a therapist. At first, I wasn’t sure if it would help. She was quiet after her sessions, not saying much about what they talked about. But as time passed, I noticed small changes in her.

One day, she called me while I was out with our son. Her voice cracked over the phone.

A woman talking on her phone | Source: Midjourney

A woman talking on her phone | Source: Midjourney

“Can you come home?” she asked. “I need to talk to you.”

When I walked in the door, she was sitting on the couch, looking tired but different somehow. There was something softer in her face, something I hadn’t seen in a long time.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice trembling. “I didn’t realize how bad things had gotten. I was so lost in my own world, in my head, that I didn’t see what it was doing to you or to our son.”

A sad woman in her phone | Source: Midjourney

A sad woman in her phone | Source: Midjourney

I sat down next to her, unsure of what to say. She kept talking.

“The therapist is helping. I know it’ll take time, but I want to be better. Not just for me, but for us. For him.”

Her eyes filled with tears as she spoke, and for the first time in what felt like forever, I saw the person I had fallen in love with.

A couple having a serious talk | Source: Midjourney

A couple having a serious talk | Source: Midjourney

Over the following months, things continued to improve. She started painting again, slowly at first. Her mother would come over and watch our son while she spent a couple of hours in her art studio, reconnecting with the part of herself she had neglected for so long.

“I forgot how much I love this,” she told me one evening, showing me a canvas she had been working on. “It feels good to create again.”

A woman with her painting | Source: Midjourney

A woman with her painting | Source: Midjourney

Her bond with our son also started to heal. I’d catch them reading together or her teaching him how to draw simple shapes with crayons. The distance that had once separated them was closing, bit by bit. He seemed happier too, more settled, as if he could sense that Mommy was really back.

Our family wasn’t perfect, but we were healing. Together.

A happy family | Source: Midjourney

A happy family | Source: Midjourney

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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