On our picture-perfect wedding day, my sister-in-law Jenna sulked through every photo and complained nonstop. Weeks later, she demanded we delete every image she was in — or else! My wife was crushed… but I had a solution, one that Jenna didn’t see coming.
The morning unfolded like a dream. Clear skies stretched overhead, a light breeze drifted off the river, and the gentle scent of fresh-cut grass and wildflowers hung in the air.
I stood near the edge of the barn, watching as the bridal party emerged in a flutter of chiffon and curls, sunlight catching the beads and lace on their dresses.
The photographer was already snapping candids as everyone laughed and hugged.
But right in the middle of it all, Jenna, my wife’s sister, dragged her heels — literally and emotionally.
She squinted at the sun like it had personally offended her, tugged her dress down at the hips, and muttered to no one in particular, “It’s too hot.”
A few steps later, she groaned, “This dress is clinging in weird places.”
Then, as the photographer called everyone to gather for the bridal party photos, she fluffed her hair and scowled at her reflection in a car window.
“Great. I look like I stuck my finger in an outlet.”
Nina glanced over, concern softening her features. She reached out, brushing a loose strand of Jenna’s hair back and placing a cool water bottle in her hand.
“Here, Jen,” she said, still smiling. “Take a sip. You’ll feel better.”
But Jenna just looked at the bottle like it had personally insulted her.
Nina had warned me about her sister’s mood swings, but seeing it play out on our wedding day was something else entirely.
“Maybe she’s just nervous,” Nina had whispered to me earlier, her eyes betraying a lifetime of making excuses for her sister’s behavior. “Big crowds make her anxious.”
I’d nodded and squeezed her hand, not wanting to point out that 30 guests hardly counted as a “big crowd.”
The photographer, Melissa, led the bridal party out into the golden fields surrounding the farmhouse venue we’d booked for the wedding and reception.
Laughter filled the air — except near Jenna, who was usually positioned on the edge of group photos. She and Nina had never been close, something Nina had tried to remedy by making her a bridesmaid.
“Can we get the sisters together?” Melissa called out cheerfully. “Just Nina and Jenna for a moment?”
I watched Nina’s face light up as she moved toward her sister. Jenna stepped forward with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.
“Put your arm around her waist, Jenna,” Melissa suggested. “That’s perfect!”
When the shutter clicked, Jenna was caught mid-eye-roll. In the next shot, she had a fake smile plastered on her face. By the third, she was visibly sneering.
Nina pretended not to notice. She kept smiling, kept posing, kept trying.
“You two look gorgeous!” I called out, and Nina blew me a kiss.
Jenna muttered something I couldn’t hear, but Nina’s momentary flinch told me all I needed to know.
The rest of the day unfolded beautifully, despite Jenna’s cloud.
Nina was radiant as she walked down the aisle. When we exchanged vows, I saw tears in her eyes.
We danced under fairy lights as the sun set, and even Jenna seemed to relax after a couple of glasses of champagne.
Later that night, Nina cuddled against me in our hotel room and whispered, “Thank you for being so patient today.”
I kissed her forehead. “Your sister didn’t ruin anything. Nothing could have ruined today.”
Nina sighed. “She tries, you know. In her way.”
I nodded, not trusting myself to respond. If that was Jenna trying, I’d hate to see her not making an effort.
Three weeks later, the photo gallery arrived in our inbox.
Nina and I snuggled on the couch, the laptop balanced between us as we clicked through vibrant, joyful, sun-soaked moments frozen in time.
“Oh, look at that one,” Nina gasped, pointing to a shot of us surrounded by our friends, confetti falling around us like snow. “Can we frame it for the living room?”
“Absolutely,” I agreed, making a note of the photo number.
We continued scrolling, occasionally pausing to laugh or sigh at particularly beautiful moments.
“Wait till everyone sees these,” Nina said, her voice warm with excitement.
She grabbed her phone and texted the gallery link to the bridal party, including Jenna, along with a message that we planned to post some photos on our socials.
I barely had time to refill our wine glasses before Nina’s phone rang. Jenna’s name flashed on the screen.
Nina answered with a cheerful, “Hey, Jen! Did you see the photos? They’re amazing, right?”
The voice that came through the speaker hit like a stormcloud.
“You let the photographer capture me looking like THIS?! I look like I just crawled out of a drain!”
Nina’s smile faltered.
“What? No, you don’t. You looked beautiful. Just like the rest of us.”
“Are you blind?” Jenna’s voice was shrill, cutting. “My hair is frizzy, the dress makes me look fat, and in half the shots I’m squinting like I’ve never seen sunlight before!”
