AITA for cutting my sister-in-law out of my wedding video after she erased my family from hers?
When my brother’s wife excluded our entire family from her wedding photos and video, I promised myself I’d return the favor. Now it’s my turn to get married—and I’ve planned the perfect revenge.
At my brother’s wedding, his bride had strict expectations—down to the colors we wore. Our family complied and showed up fully supportive, but her pointed comments about how “our side never takes anything seriously” stung. After the big day, we realized not one photo or clip of us appeared anywhere. It was like we didn’t exist. When I asked for pictures, she denied they were ever taken. Months later, she still pretended ignorance. That’s when I decided my own wedding would quietly set the record straight.
She erased us from her wedding, so I’m erasing her from mine. My photographer knows the plan, and my videographer’s mission is simple: make her feel like the star… then cut her out entirely.
When she cut my family from her wedding footage, it wasn’t a mistake—it was intentional. The absence spoke louder than any words. So when I started planning my own wedding, I decided her name would barely make the guest list, and her face would never make the final cut.
“She erased us from her wedding. So I’m erasing her from mine.”
When word got out I was engaged, she cornered me at dinner to announce she’d “make time” for my big day, despite not being invited. I kept calm, smiled, and told her the Airbnb was already booked—her attendance or not. As the date approached, I added one more subtle dig: I spelled her name wrong on the invitation. A petty appetizer for the main course of poetic justice.
“My videographer’s secret mission? Film her like the star… then delete every second.”
The day came and went beautifully. Our guests laughed, cried, and danced. The videographer captured every joyful moment—except hers. The early sneak peek clips are flawless and free of her presence. Somewhere on a hard drive, she exists, but she’ll never see the final edit. Balance restored.
🏠 The Aftermath
The wedding was a success, with laughter replacing any bitterness I’d carried.
My videographer confirmed over 200GB of raw footage—but none of it featuring her made it into the sneak peeks or social highlights.
My husband and I have lived in the post-wedding bliss, our families at peace, and her memory quietly trimmed from the final story reel.
Revenge doesn’t always need shouting—sometimes silence edits louder than words.
It wasn’t about cruelty; it was about symmetry. She taught me how it feels to be erased. I simply returned the lesson, frame by frame.
💭 Emotional Reflection
Family politics can turn milestones into minefields. What began as hurt over being excluded became a lesson in boundaries and closure. I didn’t need to confront her—I just needed to reclaim my story.
Some might call it petty; I call it poetic. I gave her the attention she craved and then the absence she earned. My focus stayed on joy, not vengeance, and that made all the difference.
People can debate whether mirrored revenge is fair, but sometimes matching energy is the most peaceful way to move forward.
Commenters were torn between cheering and caution:
NTA—this is the definition of “play stupid games, win stupid prizes.” She had it coming.
ESH a little—you both let weddings become battlefields. Still, your execution was artful.
Petty? Sure. Perfect? Also yes. Sometimes you need to edit out the negativity—literally.
Reactions ranged from applause to reminders about rising above. Yet most agreed: poetic justice never looked so good in 4K.
🌱 Final Thoughts
Some wounds don’t need confrontation—they just need creative closure. Editing her out wasn’t about spite, it was about balance.
She erased a family once; I erased her once. Now the record—and the footage—are finally even.
What do you think?
Would you have left, or stayed and kept trying to make it work? Share your thoughts below 👇
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