My Stepmom Destroyed the Skirt I Made from My Late Dad’s Ties—Karma Knocked on Our Door That Same Night

They’re his. Please don’t throw them away.”

She rolled her eyes dramatically. “Sweetheart, he’s not coming back for them.

You need to grow up and face reality.”

When she left the room to answer her phone, I rescued the bag and hid it in my closet. Every single tie still smelled faintly of his aftershave, that familiar scent of cedar and the cheap cologne he bought at the drugstore.

I wasn’t going to let her throw my dad’s belongings as if they didn’t matter at all.

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