Downstairs, Stephanie stayed quiet. She didn’t come near us—she never did when Grandma was around. There was something about the way Grandma looked right through her that made her uneasy.
For two hours, Grandma worked.
With trembling hands, she scrubbed stains, stitched seams, and refused to give up. Lemon juice and peroxide lifted the marks. Careful stitches brought the torn fabric back together.
I sat beside her, handing her tools, whispering encouragement. Time was slipping away—but she never faltered.
When she finished, she held the dress up like it was a miracle.
“Try it on, sweetheart.”
I slipped into it. It fit a little tighter around the bust, and the seam felt slightly stiff—but it was still beautiful.
And it was still hers.
Grandma pulled me into a hug and kissed my forehead. “Now go. Shine for both of us. Your mom will be right there with you!”
And in that moment… I believed her.
I wiped my tears, grabbed my heels, and walked out with my head held high.
At prom, my friends gasped when they saw me.
The lavender dress shimmered under the lights.
“You look incredible!” one girl whispered.
