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

He wore it every single Christmas morning while making his famous cinnamon rolls.

When I finally finished and put it on for the first time, standing in front of my bedroom mirror, it shimmered under the light.

It wasn’t perfect by any professional standard because the seams were a bit crooked in places, and the hem wasn’t completely even. But it felt alive somehow, like Dad’s warmth was woven into every thread.

“He’d love this,” I whispered to my reflection, touching the soft silk.

As I was looking at my reflection in the mirror, I noticed Carla walking past my open bedroom door. She stopped, glanced in, and actually snorted out loud.

“You’re seriously wearing that to prom?” she asked, rolling her eyes.

“It looks like a craft project from a thrift store bargain bin.”

I ignored her, turning back to the mirror.

But later that evening, as she passed my room again, she muttered under her breath just loud enough for me to hear, “Always playing Daddy’s little orphan for sympathy.”

The words hit me hard.

For a moment, I just sat in my room in silence.

Was that really how she saw me? I thought. A pathetic girl clinging to memories everyone else thought I should’ve let go of by now?

Was I wrong to keep holding on to him like this?

I looked at the skirt sitting on my bed.

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