I was so naive to trust my mother-in-law, Maris, when she offered to handle our wedding photos—the most precious part of my big day with her son, Soren. I thought it was a chance for us to bond, but it was just her scheme to erase me from my own memories. When I discovered what she did, I was stunned, but I never expected my friends to rally so quickly—and watching her get exposed felt so satisfying!
Maris and I never got along. She always looked at me like I was beneath her, with fake smiles masking her judgment. I’m an artist who loves worn boots and paint on my hands—not the polished daughter-in-law she wanted. So when she offered to cover the photographer as a “wedding gift,” I hoped it meant she was starting to accept me.
“I’ll handle it!” she said warmly. “I know a great photographer. You’ll love the pictures!”
Soren smiled: “See? She’s trying to help.”
I wanted to believe her. I thought maybe she was finally okay with me. So I let her take charge.
Huge mistake.
The wedding day was magical. Sunlight streamed through the church windows, I wore a lace dress my grandma had tailored, and Soren looked incredible in his navy suit. But Maris kept inserting herself into every moment. At first, I thought she just wanted photos with her son—fair enough, right? But in group shots, she always stood front and center, adjusting my veil and holding it as the camera clicked. She posed like she was the main event.
I brushed off the uneasy feeling, thinking the photographer would sort it out later. But three months later, when we got the USB with the photos, my heart sank.
Soren handed me the USB from Maris, saying, “Mom says you’ll love these.”
I opened my laptop, buzzing with excitement. But then I wanted to cry.
There were hundreds of photos, but I was barely in them! My bride portraits? Missing. Photos of me walking down the aisle? Blurry or off-center. Our first dance? Cropped above my eyes. In group shots, I was blinking, sneezing, or just a shadow in the corner. But Maris? She looked flawless, with the light hitting her perfectly, smiling like a star. This wasn’t my wedding album—it was all about her!
I was furious, tears burning my eyes. I called the photographer, Jasper, trying to stay calm: “Did you send the wrong photos? I’m hardly in these!”
He sounded puzzled: “I sent all the photos to Maris weeks ago. She wanted to review them first.”
My stomach churned. “You deleted the originals?”
“I thought she gave them to you. I clear my backups after the client approves.”
I hung up, feeling betrayed. Maris did this on purpose. She chose the photos she liked and erased my best moments, making me invisible on my own wedding day.
I rushed to Soren’s office, showed him the photos. His face paled: “Why would she do this?”
“You know why!” I said, crying. “She doesn’t like me! I’m not classy enough, not perfect enough for her son!”
Soren didn’t respond, but he knew. Maris never liked me because I’m me—an artist who laughs loud and doesn’t fit her mold.
I confronted Maris myself: “You deleted my photos. Why?”
She played innocent: “What? I just sorted them. You’re making a fuss over nothing.”
“My ceremony photos are gone! You did it on purpose!”
She gave a small laugh: “Oh, I didn’t mean to. Tech stuff is tricky, you know.”
I walked away, hurt and angry. I felt like she’d stolen my special day.
That night, I posted on social media with four of the worst photos Maris kept: one with my eyes half-closed, another with my lipstick smudged. I wrote:
“When someone else ‘chooses’ your wedding photos. No retakes, no do-overs. Just memories… ruined.”
People caught on fast. Maris messaged me, furious: “Take that down! You’re embarrassing us!”
But everyone knew she meant to do it. My friend Lyra saw how Maris ignored me at the rehearsal dinner. My cousin Veda remembered Maris moving my family’s seats away from the main table. Soren’s coworker Zane heard her call me “odd” at a party. Now they saw how far she’d go to push me out.
A week later, Lyra texted: “Stay home tonight, we’ve got a surprise!” At 7 p.m., a package arrived—a beautiful photo album with a note: You deserved better. We fixed it.
I opened it and cried. There were photos I didn’t know existed: me laughing with my dad before the ceremony, Soren wiping a tear from my face, my mom hugging me so tight our necklaces tangled. Lyra, Veda, Zane, and even Soren’s little cousin Nova had gathered photos and videos from the day, then had a professional editor, Kael, make them perfect. The album was stunning, and it warmed my heart.
Then came the best part! A few days later, someone—probably Lyra—“accidentally” shared another album in our wedding group chat, called “Memories of the Day.” But this one was all Maris.
Her sneezing! Her chomping on a huge bite! Her scratching her arm with her eyes closed! Her glaring at someone by the food table! The best was a close-up of her adjusting her shapewear in a mirror, unedited!
The chat exploded. Laughing emojis everywhere. Someone wrote, “The real star!” Another said, “Perfect tribute to the queen!”
Maris called Soren, sobbing: “Who did this? She’s behind it, right?”
Soren sighed: “You did this to yourself, Mom. She didn’t do it. The guests did.”
She hung up, and I didn’t answer her calls after that. Instead, I sat on the couch, flipping through the album my friends made, feeling so grateful. I smiled through my tears.
Maris tried to erase me from my wedding, but my friends and family said, “No way!” They didn’t just fix it—they made it better. And when Soren hugged me that night, he said, “If anyone hurts you again, the whole group chat will know.”
I laughed, still crying a little: “They’ll make an album about it!”
