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A woman making wedding gift bags | Source: Unsplash
Then one afternoon, she showed up at my fitting uninvited and circled the dress like a predator.
I turned to her, laughing off her comment. “It’s sentimental. My mom made it.”
Her face froze for a second, then she smiled. “Oh, right. That dress again.”
Her tone made something twist in my gut, but I brushed it off, thinking she wouldn’t dare sabotage me.
I was so wrong.
A woman frowning | Source: Freepik
The morning of the wedding was bright and calm, but I woke up shaking with nerves. I’d slept over at home to be closer to the wedding venue. When I went down, I found Dad downstairs making coffee, humming.
He looked proud and emotional, like the father of the bride in every movie. My stepmother, of course, was fussing with her makeup. I went and took a bath before leaving with Dad and Cheryl for the wedding venue.
A woman in the backseat of a car | Source: Pexels
The dress, which Maddy had collected from the seamstress, hung in the suite, sunlight glowing through it like a blessing. My best friend fluffed it while I tried to eat something.
“You ready?” she asked.
I smiled. “As I’ll ever be.”
Then the florist called about a mix-up with the boutonnières. I stepped outside to take care of it. I was gone for maybe 10 minutes, tops.
A blurry view of a woman on a call | Source: Pexels
When I came back, Maddy’s face had lost all color! She was literally chalk white!
“Lila,” she whispered.
My mother’s dress, the one sewn with her last breath, lay on the floor—torn, slashed, and stained!
I couldn’t breathe. I dropped to my knees, my hands shaking as I picked it up. The embroidery was ripped. The silk and bodice were jagged like it had been attacked. Beads were scattered everywhere like tiny shattered bones!
A cut up wedding dress | Source: Midjourney
“No… no no no…”
Maddy reached for me, but I pulled away, clutching the ruined fabric. “Oh my God, who would do this?!” she exclaimed.
“These are deliberate scissor cuts,” I said. “This wasn’t an accident.”
She nodded slowly. “I’m sorry, Li. I stepped out to use the toilet while you were on the phone, but—”
I abruptly stood up straight and didn’t wait to hear what else she wanted to say.
I stormed into the hallway, still in my slip. Guests turned. Music played somewhere distant, unaware of the explosion building inside me.
There she was!
A happy woman holding a drink | Source: Pexels
Cheryl stood by the catering table, sipping champagne and laughing.
I’d noticed before I stormed off that her perfume lingered faintly in the air of my bridal suite, that expensive rose scent she bathed in.
“You,” I growled.
She turned. “Lila, darling, what’s wrong?”
“You did this!” I yelled. “You destroyed my mother’s dress!”
Her expression shifted just for a second before the fake concern took over. “I beg your pardon?”
“You slashed it! You ruined the last thing she gave me!”
A woman shouting | Source: Freepik
Cheryl sighed like I was a petulant child. “Maybe if you hadn’t left it lying around, it wouldn’t have gotten damaged. Relax, it’s just a dress.”
“It’s not just a dress!” I screamed. “She made it with her dying hands! It was her last gift to me!”
Guests stared, and some had their phones out, recording the drama. Luke rushed over.
My stepmother looked cold and smug as she smiled. “Well, maybe it’s time you stop living in the past. You can go get a real gown now.”
A woman with a bad attitude | Source: Pexels
I lunged toward her, but Maddy, who’d followed me out of the suite, held me back! Guests started whispering, the music stopped, and then my dad appeared, his face pale as he took in the scene.
“What’s going on?!” he demanded.
“Your wife,” I spat. “She destroyed Mom’s dress!”
Cheryl’s eyes widened in mock horror. “That’s a ridiculous accusation! I would never—”
A shocked woman | Source: Midjourney
Then Maddy stepped forward. “I was trying to tell you earlier that I saw her leaving the suite with scissors. She came in while you were out, before I went to the toilet. She said she wanted to wish you luck. I never thought anything about it, until you mentioned the scissor cuts on the dress!”
Everything stopped.
Dad’s confusion turned to horror. “Is that true?” he asked.
Cheryl opened her mouth, then paused. “I… I was just trying to help.”
“Help with what?!” he said. “What were you doing with scissors?!”
A serious man | Source: Pexels
For the first time, Cheryl’s mask cracked. She snapped. “You both treat that woman like some kind of saint! I’m tired of being second. I thought if the dress was gone, she’d finally move on!”
The air left the room.
Dad’s voice dropped. “Get out.”
“What?”
“You heard me. Get out! You’re not welcome here. And when I get home, I want you gone from my house!”
She tried to argue, but Dad turned away as two of the groomsmen, his friends, stepped in.
A shot of two men in suits | Source: Unsplash
Cheryl stumbled trying to gather her things and tripped, knocking over a champagne tower before she disappeared out the side doors, the groomsmen escorting her out of the venue.
I stood frozen.
“Sweetheart,” Dad said softly, placing his hand on my shoulder. “I’m so sorry. I never should’ve brought her into our lives.”
I couldn’t speak. My throat hurt from holding back sobs.
A sad woman in a robe | Source: Pexels
Then Maddy took my arm. “Li, we can fix it.”
“It’s ruined.”
But then she said something I’ll never forget.
“No. Your mom’s love isn’t in the stitches. It’s in you. We’ll make it work.”
So we did.
With fashion tape, pins, thread, and sheer will, we patched the dress. It wasn’t perfect—one sleeve was gone, and the bodice was uneven—but when I stood at the end of the aisle, sunlight made it shimmer like new!
A bride in a wedding dress | Source: Pexels
Dad held my arm, tears in his eyes.
“She’d be so proud,” he whispered as he walked me down the aisle.
And I swear, in that moment, I could almost feel Mom there—warm, steady, smiling.
As I walked toward Luke, something lifted. The pain didn’t vanish, but it softened. I carried it like the gown—damaged, mended, cherished.
“You look like magic,” Luke whispered.
“That’s what Mom called it.”
A bride and groom at the altar | Source: Pexels
We said our vows, then danced under twinkle lights.
Later that night, Maddy showed me a photo.
“She tried to sneak into the reception. Security caught her.”
My eyes widened.
“She tripped when her heel broke on the cobblestone driveway and fell into the fountain! Full splash. Her hair, dress, and makeup—ruined!”
I burst out laughing. Karma had perfect timing!
A bride laughing | Source: Pexels
After the wedding, Dad filed for divorce. Cheryl didn’t get a cent. The prenup Mom insisted on all those years ago held strong.
I had the dress restored. It took months, but I had it framed, and now it hangs above my fireplace in the living room. The faint scars are still there if you look closely.
But I love them.
They remind me that love—real love—isn’t fragile. It’s thread that binds even the torn parts together.
And no one can ever take that away.
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