16/10/2025                                                                            
                                    
                                                                            
                                            My mom completed my wedding dress three days before she died—I COULDN'T FORGIVE what happened right before I got married.
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As a 26F, I never imagined my hands would shake recounting this day. But my wedding still hurts to recall.
My mother Ella was a skilled seamstress and truly loved me. When her cancer reappeared, she responded calmly.
She said, "Guess I'll have to work faster," and bought soft ivory fabric. "I'm making you something no one can ever take away."
The wedding dress became her final piece.
She stitched patiently, hands trembling. "I’ll rest when my girl walks down the aisle."
The dress was ready with three days left. When I lifted it to the window, it gleamed.
With a gentle touch, she told me, "Now I can go." She passed that very night.
A year later, Dad remarried Cheryl, who was always smiling but icy.
After meeting Luke and spending five years together, we got engaged. Dad was happy. Cheryl’s reaction: "That's… fast, isn't it?"
As the wedding approached, Cheryl criticized my dress repeatedly. "THAT OLD DRESS AGAIN? YOU COULD AFFORD A REAL ONE NOW!" I didn’t listen.
On the morning, sunlight illuminated the dress. I stepped out for a 10-minute call.
When I came back, Maddy stood white-faced.
"Lila…" she murmured, pointing.
The dress was on the floor, torn, cut, stained.
The scissor cuts were neat and direct, destroying the embroidery.
"OMG, WHO COULD HAVE DONE THIS?!" Maddy said.
I had no doubt who was responsible. ⬇️⬇️⬇️