My Daughter Made My Wedding Dress — An Unexpected Problem Arose Before the Ceremony

A dark stain spread across the skirt where a liquid had soaked in and dried. Lily gasped behind me, and I turned quickly to hold her. She asked if I was angry with her, and I cupped her face gently, promising that she had done nothing wrong.

Someone else had caused this hurt, and deep down I already knew who. Earlier that week, my fiancé Daniel’s sister Clara had eyed the dress with thinly veiled disapproval, calling it “homespun” and asking a few too-casual questions about where it would be kept overnight. Now the pieces fit together.

I found Clara downstairs arranging fruit at the makeshift breakfast table, calm and polished as if nothing were wrong. I asked her to step into the hallway, where the noise of the house softened behind a closed door. I told her what I had discovered, and when her gaze flickered toward the stairs, her silence spoke louder than denial.

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