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

She glanced down at the ruined fabric, then back at me with those cold eyes. “If you mean your little costume project, I found it lying there when I came in to borrow your phone charger.

Honestly, Emma, you should thank me. That thing was absolutely hideous. I saved you from public humiliation.”

I couldn’t even move.

My throat burned with unshed tears, and my whole body felt frozen.

“You destroyed the last thing I had of Dad’s,” I whispered, my voice breaking.

She shrugged as if she’d just commented on the weather. “Oh, please. He’s dead.

A pile of old neckties isn’t going to bring him back from the grave. Be realistic, Emma. Please.”

I fell to my knees, gathering the shredded pieces in my arms, shaking so hard I thought I might be sick.

“You’re a monster,” I said, looking up at her.

“And you’re dramatic,” she replied coolly.

“I’m going to the store to pick up some things. Try not to cry into the carpet while I’m gone. It’s new.”

The front door slammed behind her, and the sound echoed through the empty house.

I don’t remember exactly how long I sat there on my bedroom floor, holding the pieces of my father’s ties and sobbing.

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