“Your mom’s gone, Megan. She’s been gone for a long time. I’m your mother now, and as your mother, I won’t let you make a fool out of us.”
My hands trembled as I pressed the satin against my chest, like I was holding onto my mom herself. “This is all I have left of her,” I whispered.
She threw her hands up dramatically.
“Oh, enough with this nonsense! I’ve raised you for years, given you a home, and everything you could want. And how do you thank me? By clinging to some outdated rag that should’ve been thrown out years ago?”
Tears slipped down my face. “It’s the only piece of her I can still hold on to…”
“Stop it, Megan! I’m the one in charge now. I’m your mother, do you hear me? And you’ll do as I say. You’ll wear the gown I chose, the one that shows you’re part of my family. Not that pathetic dress.”
If you couldn’t tell already, my stepmom only cared about appearances.
That night, I cried with the dress crumpled in my arms, whispering apologies to a mother who couldn’t hear me. But I made up my mind—I would wear it, no matter what Stephanie thought. I wouldn’t let her erase my mom from this house. Not completely.
When my dad came home, I didn’t tell him about the argument.
He apologized for having to work a double shift on prom day. As a regional manager at a warehouse company, end-of-quarter demands had pulled him in.
“I’ll be back by the time you return,” he promised, kissing my forehead. “I want to see my girl looking like a princess in her mother’s dress.”
He already knew which dress I’d chosen—we had talked about it many times.
“You’ll be proud,” I said, hugging him tightly.
“I already am,” he whispered.
The next morning, I woke up full of butterflies.
I did my makeup the way my mom used to—soft blush, natural lips. I curled my hair and even found the lavender clip she once wore. By early afternoon, everything was ready.
I went upstairs to put on the dress, my heart racing so fast I could barely breathe.
But when I unzipped the garment bag, I froze.
The satin was torn straight down the seam. The bodice was stained with something dark and sticky—like coffee. The embroidered flowers were smeared with what looked like black ink.
I dropped to my knees, clutching the ruined fabric.
“No… no,” I whispered again and again.
Then I heard her voice.
“Oh. You found it.”
Stephanie stood in the doorway, wearing a smug smile. Her voice was sickly sweet. “I warned you not to be so stubborn.”
I turned slowly, shaking. “You… did this?”
She stepped inside, looking at me like I was something unpleasant. “I couldn’t let you humiliate us. What were you thinking? You were going to show up looking like a ghost from the bargain bin.”
“It was my mom’s,” I choked. “It’s all I have left of her.”
