My 70-year-old father-in-law already had almost completely gray hair and a slightly hunched back, but he still dressed elegantly and used expensive perfume, as if he were a young man of twenty.

At an age when most people enjoy their grandchildren, he surprised the entire family when he insisted on marrying… the 25-year-old tutor who taught his grandson.

At first, we were all against it, but he stubbornly repeated, “To love is to love, there is no age here,” and threatened to sell the land and divide the inheritance if anyone stopped him.

In the end, though my husband and I were so embarrassed, we organized a lavish wedding and invited the entire town of the small neighborhood on the outskirts of Guadalajara.

The bride, beautiful as a flower, makeup on, and radiant, held a bouquet while looking at her phone again and again.

My father-in-law smiled like never before, saying, “Today is the happiest day of my life!”

On the wedding night, we stayed in the living room to give them privacy. Around 10 p.m., the house was quiet when we suddenly heard a strange “ugh… ugh…” that lasted about three minutes and then stopped.

Thinking he might be dizzy, I was about to make him some ginger tea, but less than ten seconds later, we heard his heartbreaking scream:

“Oh my God! Son, come see this!”

We ran into the bedroom.

The white light illuminated a scene that left me frozen: the unmade bed, the sheets thrown out, the bride’s dress and underwear scattered on the floor… and next to the bed, a completely na.ked young man, trying to hide half his body under the bed.

The bride, pale as a sheet, clutched an envelope filled with money from the wedding gifts.

My father-in-law, sitting on the floor, panted and pointed at the young man with a trembling hand:

— “He… he’s… her ex… she was supposed to meet him this afternoon… he told me to go to bed early… God…”

The room was filled with a thick silence. The young man under the bed trembled without lifting his head. The bride—no longer “the wife”—knelt down, muttering:

— “Sorry… I just…”

My father-in-law seemed soulless; more than furious, he was devastated.

My husband, after remaining motionless for a few seconds, grabbed the man by the collar of his shirt and dragged him out.

— “Get out. Now,” he spat at him.

The young man hurriedly dressed and left without looking back.

The bride tried to leave with the envelopes of money, but I stood in front of the door and snatched them from her hands.

“This money belongs to my family. You have no right,” I said coldly.

In a few minutes, the yard was filled with curious neighbors, whispering:

“I told you… this wedding was weird…”

“Poor guy, at his age…”

My father-in-law staggered to his feet, went into his room, and locked it.

The sound of the lock was colder than the early morning wind.

My husband and I gathered the discarded clothes and sheets, put them in a plastic bag, and left them in the entryway.

The young woman—now my “ex-wife” after less than a day—stood, trembling, her gaze lost in thought.

Before leaving, she managed to whisper:

“I… I didn’t want to either… but…”

No one wanted to listen anymore.

The door closed behind her, leaving a wedding night turned into a nightmare and a family with its honor shattered in front of the entire town.

From that day on, my father-in-law never wore perfume or his impeccable suits again.

Now he spends his evenings sitting under the porch of the house, staring at the horizon, as if he had aged ten years in a single night.