10/17/2025
Seventeen, and it’s the night of my graduation—the biggest moment of my school life.
Since childhood, I wished to wear the dress my mother wore to her graduation.
Her death from cancer at twelve left THAT DRESS as my keepsake.
Later, Dad remarried. Stephanie, his second wife, cared only about appearances. She tossed my mother's belongings as "junk" and redecorated our home with expensive items.
The day before graduation, I wore my mom’s dress and spun before the mirror.
Stephanie said sarcastically,
"YOU CAN'T WEAR THAT RAG! You'll bring shame on our family. You're wearing the designer dress I picked out — the one that cost THOUSANDS!"
I insisted, "This is a special dress for me... I'm wearing it."
On prom night, when I went to change, I unzipped the bag and froze in shock.
The dress was damaged—torn seam, stained fabric, as though coffee was deliberately spilled.
Stephanie arrived, beaming: "OH, YOU FOUND IT!"
Fighting tears, I said, "You did this? It’s my mother's dress..."
She replied harshly, "I'M YOUR MOTHER NOW! ENOUGH! You should have THROWN that dress in the trash a long time ago!"
About to faint, my grandmother appeared, cleaned the dress, and repaired it carefully.
A few hours later, I wore it with pride.
Unknown to me, after prom, Dad would make Stephanie REGRET what she’d done.
He placed his hand on my shoulder. HIS EYES DARKENED. ⬇️⬇️⬇️