I kicked my brother out of the wedding hall after he went against my decision and brought his kids to the wedding. But I’m not ashamed of it. I think it was the right decision.
My wife, Laura, and I got married days ago, and we had decided to keep the wedding children-free. To be honest, I thought that was the best decision. So when I was sending out the invites, I made sure the message was clear to everyone.
To some extent, I was sure that everyone would respect my decision and won’t bring their kids to the wedding. But there was one person I wasn’t sure of, and that was my 36-year-old brother David.
David got married at a young age and has four kids. Like every parent, those kids mean the world to him, so he takes them everywhere he and his wife go.
And trust me when I say that the kids are with him everywhere because I hadn’t witnessed even one family event in twenty-eight years of my life when David and his wife attended an event without them.
So, unlike other guests, I gave the wedding invite to him in person and even read it out loud to make sure David didn’t miss the little note at the bottom. “Kids are not allowed. Sorry for the inconvenience,” I finished reading.
“Child-free, huh?” David added in a sarcastic tone.
“Well, yeah. I think that’s the best decision!” I replied instantly.
David glared at me. “Are you out of your mind, Richard? My kids have never been excluded from any event, big or small, let alone their own uncle’s wedding!”
Ramsey seemed upset when I told him kids weren’t allowed | Photo: Pexels
“I’m sorry, David,” I said after a little pause, “but it’s already been decided, and everyone has to follow the rules!”
David didn’t say anything after that. I thought he was pissed at me, so I was about to apologize again, but then he spoke up. “I get it, man, no children means no children, no worries. I won’t bring my kids!”
I was relieved David didn’t get into a fight about it and seemed to accept the rule. However, I had a hard time believing he would agree to my request so quickly. Who’d have guessed my suspicions would turn out to be true?
A week later, the wedding day came. Almost everyone in the family arrived except David and his wife. I began thinking David was furious with me because I had refused to let him bring his children to the wedding.
So I decided to phone him and apologize. But just as I was about to dial the number, my best man informed me that David and his children had arrived.
I was burning with anger, and I went straight to meet him at the entrance. I greeted the kids and asked my sister-in-law to take them back to the car. When they left, I lashed out at David.
I stopped Ramsey at the entrance | Photo: Pexels
“You can’t enter, David,” I said. “Kids are not allowed in here!”
“Calm down, Richard,” David retorted. “It’s not like your wedding will be ruined because of my kids. Why are you acting like that?”
I was furious. “Acting like that?! Didn’t I tell you about it before?”
“You did, Richard, but I didn’t think you were serious. They’re just kids, after all. You’re not going to kick me out of the hall just because I didn’t follow the rules, right?” David responded.
“Well, I can. GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE, David! ” I yelled at the top of my voice.
David looked at me angrily. “You’re a lunatic, I swear. I mean, who does that to their brother?”
“I don’t want to explain anything to you now. Please leave!” I almost yelled at him.
I kicked Ramsey out of the wedding hall | Photo: Unsplash
“You know what, Richard? You’re an awful uncle and brother for sure, but you’re a simp too! I’m sure it’s your lovely Laura who has brainwashed you like this! If I were in your place, I wouldn’t have married a pathetic woman!” David said and walked away.
I was even more enraged by David’s snide remarks about Laura, and I wanted to stop him and lash out at him once more. However, our last quarrel was humiliating and loud enough for all guests, including my in-laws, to gaze at us.
My mother had to step in to calm the situation by persuading me to let it go and invite David and his family to the wedding. But I stood firm in my refusal. I was adamant about my decision and paid no attention to what others had to say.
But since that day, everyone hated me and sided with David, claiming I betrayed him and his family by acting coldly towards them when all they wanted to do was celebrate the occasion with my wife and me.
I am sad that everyone in the family hates me | Photo: Pexels
My father was furious with me for potentially and permanently destroying my relationship with David, his wife, and their children by excluding them from my wedding. David will never forget that day, he said. But first, let me explain why I did it.
I used to work for Laura’s dad’s company. He and his wife tragically died in a car accident. I was just one of the employees attending the funeral when I saw Laura for the first time.
A few days after the funeral, as I was on my way to the cabin, I met Laura at the office. She had come to collect some documents.
When I saw her, all I could think of was how sad she was during the funeral. So I asked her if she was doing well. I don’t know why but after talking to her that day, I felt like I wanted to learn more about her.
Luckily, we began meeting each other often, especially after Laura took over her dad’s position and came to the office every day. And before we realized it, we were in love.
I fell in love with Clara at the first sight | Photo: Pexels
Laura had returned to regular life somehow, but her trauma from her parents’ death remained severe, and she was undergoing treatment for that. Laura’s therapist had warned me not to do anything that might cause her mental distress.
We had gone to see a gynecologist just a few weeks before the wedding because Laura wanted to talk about her health issues and see if there would be any complications with her pregnancy. Sadly, it turned out that Laura could never become a mother.
If Laura knew this, she wouldn’t be able to bear it because she wanted to give birth and have a family. So I decided to hide the truth from her until her therapist gave me the green light. But Laura learned about it, and as I had expected, she was devastated.
I decided not to allow children to attend our wedding because I knew Laura would be even more upset if she saw them. She had even planned a court wedding because she didn’t want such a lavish wedding after receiving the sad news. But I knew she always wanted the wedding to be like this since she talked about it from the beginning of our relationship.
Clara was devastated when she learned she couldn’t give birth | Photo: Pexels
Yes, I could have told my brother the real reason, but trust me, he’s not good with secrets, and my family is such that if people knew Laura was taking therapy sessions and now couldn’t become a mother, they wouldn’t accept our relationship. So I think what I did was right.
You can hate me for what I did, but I love Laura, and I will do anything to keep her happy.
What can we learn from this story?
- Sometimes you have to lose something to gain something. Richard ruined his relationship with his brother because he wanted to save Laura from further depression.
- If you love someone, you stay with them through the good and bad. Just as Richard stayed by Laura’s side every time.
Share this story with your friends. It might brighten their day and inspire them.
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After I restored the motorcycle my father had gifted me, he took it back — so I found a way to get my revenge
I caught them effortlessly, but I was confused.
“What’s this for?” I asked. They didn’t look like car keys, and I already had my mom’s old car anyway.
My dad nodded toward a dusty tarp in the corner of the garage. It had been there for as long as I could remember, covering up something that I was told not to touch.
When I pulled the tarp off, I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. It was my dad’s old Harley, a ’73 Shovelhead. It was the stuff of my childhood dreams, the bike that had always seemed just out of reach.
All I had wanted to do when I was younger was steal my dad’s leather jacket and sit on the motorcycle. But he always shouted at me whenever I tried to touch it.
“If there’s one scratch on it, Seth,” he would say, “I’ll take all your spending money away.”
That was enough to keep me away from the dream bike.
“You’re giving me the Harley?” I asked, my voice a mix of disbelief and excitement.
My father shrugged it off like it was nothing.
“Yeah, why not, son?” he declared. “It hasn’t run in years, to be honest, so good luck with that. Consider it a late birthday gift, Seth.”
I could barely believe it.
I was finally going to ride that bike, and feel the engine roaring beneath me, the wind in my hair. It was going to be everything I had dreamt of and more. I was finally going to be like my dad.
I ran my hand over the cracked leather seat, taking in the gift.
“Thanks, Dad,” I said. “I promise I’ll take good care of her.”
The moment those keys were in my hand, that motorcycle became my new obsession.
“Jeez, son,” the mechanic said when I took the Harley over in a friend’s old pickup truck. “There’s a lot to be done here. But I can do the big things for you, and you’ll be able to sort out the smaller things if you’re confident enough.”
I saved every penny from my barista role at the café. I was extra polite to all my customers, hoping for large tips, ready to go straight into the motorcycle restoration fund.
Soon, my nights, weekends, and any and all free time I had were spent outside with the motorcycle. I tore it down and put it back together, better than ever, restoring old parts. I watched countless YouTube tutorials and read every manual I could find.
“What are you doing now?” my roommate, Brett, asked when I was hunched over my laptop on the couch.
“I’m looking at forums online for tips about the motorcycle,” I said.
“That’s all you do these days, buddy,” he said, chuckling.
Fourteen months later, the day finally came. I polished the last piece of chrome, stood back, and admired my work. The Harley gleamed under the garage lights, looking like it had just rolled off the assembly line.
“Good job, Seth,” I muttered to myself.
I could hardly contain my excitement as I thought about showing it to my parents, especially my dad. I imagined the pride on his face, the way his eyes would light up when he saw what I’d done.
I hoped that he would finally be proud of something I had done. But nothing prepared me for what was to come next.
I rode it over to my parents’ house, the engine purring beneath my legs like a big cat. As I parked in the driveway, I felt a rush of nerves. I hadn’t felt this anxious since I was waiting for my acceptance letter for college.
“Mom? Dad?” I called, walking into the hallway.
“We’re in the kitchen,” my mom called.
I walked into the kitchen, and there they were. My dad was drinking a cup of tea, and Mom was busy putting together a lasagna.
“I’ve got something to show you!” I said. “It’s outside.”
They followed me outside, their eyes going wide when they saw the motorcycle.
“Oh my gosh, Seth,” my dad exclaimed. “Is that the Harley? My old Harley? She looks beautiful!”
“Yes,” I said, grinning. “I’ve spent the last year working on it. What do you think?”
Before they could answer, my dad moved closer to the motorcycle. His eyes narrowed as he took it in. He ran his hands along the chrome as though he couldn’t believe his own eyes.
“You did all this?” he asked, his voice tight.
“I did!” I said, beaming proudly. “Every spare moment and extra cash went into this project. And now she’s perfect.”
For a second, I thought I saw pride flicker in his eyes, but then his expression changed. His face darkened, and I felt something change in me.
“You know, Seth,” he said slowly, “this bike is worth a hell of a lot more now. I think I was too generous when I gave it to you.”
I blinked, not understanding.
“What do you mean, Dad?”
My father cleared his throat, not meeting my eyes.
“I’m going to take it back,” he said, his tone final. “And I’ll give you $1,000 for your trouble.”
“Are you serious?” I asked, barely containing my anger.
He nodded.
“It’s only fair, Seth.”
I wanted to yell, to tell him how unfair he was being, how much time and money I’d poured into that bike. But I knew that arguing wouldn’t get me anywhere. My father was too stubborn.
“Sure,” I said. “Whatever you think is fair.”
He looked surprised that I didn’t fight him on it, but I wasn’t done with my revenge. If he wanted to play dirty, then fine. I could play that game too. I just needed to be smarter about it.
A few days later, I saw my father posting on social media about his “newly restored” motorcycle and that he was taking the Harley to an upcoming bike meet with his old biking buddies.
“Now it’s on,” I said to myself.
When the day of the meet arrived, I watched from a distance as my father rolled up on the Harley, looking every bit the proud owner of a beautiful bike. He revved the engine, drawing the attention of everyone in the parking lot.
But what he didn’t know was that I’d made a little modification of my own.
Under the seat, I’d installed a small switch—it was nothing fancy. But it was a precaution in case the Harley was ever stolen. The switch, when accessed, would cut off the fuel line with a quick flick of the remote, which was firmly planted in my hand.
I waited until he was right in the middle of the crowd, basking in the admiration, and then, from a distance, I pressed the button.
The Harley sputtered, the engine dying with a weak cough. Soon, my father’s smug grin disappeared as he tried to restart it, but the engine wouldn’t give.
The murmurs began, making their way through the crowd, and a few of his buddies laughed under their breath.
“Need a hand, Dad?” I asked when I made my way over to him.
He glared at me, but I could see the desperation in his eyes. He nodded, too embarrassed to say anything. I knelt down, pretending to fiddle with the bike for a moment before “fixing” the problem by turning off the switch.
The engine roared back to life, but by then, the damage was done.
The look of embarrassment on my dad’s face was worth every second of the work I had put into the Harley.
He handed me the keys, his jaw clenched tightly.
“It’s yours,” he said, walking away.
I smiled, knowing the Harley was mine, and so was my father’s respect, even if he couldn’t say it.
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