Behind me, the door clicked.
I spun around.
Stephanie stood there, leaning against the frame like she’d been waiting for this moment. She wore a sleek black dress, her hair perfect, earrings shining. She smiled.
“Oh,” she said brightly. “You found it.”
My vision blurred. “Did you… did you do this?”
Stephanie shrugged, as if we were discussing a broken vase. “Accidents happen.”
“This isn’t an accident,” I choked out. “The seam is ripped. The stains—”
Stephanie’s smile widened. “Maybe that’s the universe telling you to move on.”
The words hit me like a slap. My knees wobbled.
“That was my mom’s,” I whispered, and suddenly I couldn’t hold it together. Tears spilled down my cheeks, hot and unstoppable. “You knew what it meant to me.”
Stephanie’s expression hardened. “I’m your mother now,” she snapped. “Enough. You should’ve thrown this dress in the trash a long time ago.”
For illustrative purposes only
Something in me cracked—not just sadness, but fury. Raw, shaking fury.
“You are not my mother,” I said, voice trembling. “My mother loved me. My mother wouldn’t—”
Stephanie stepped forward, eyes flashing. “Don’t you dare compare me to her.”
“I didn’t compare you,” I said, wiping my cheeks with the back of my hand. “You did. And you lost.”
For a second, I thought she might yell. But she only smirked.
“Stop being dramatic,” she said. “You’ll wear the dress I bought. It’s already laid out. And you’ll thank me later.”
She turned to leave, then paused like she remembered something. “Oh, and your father doesn’t need this stress tonight. So be smart. Don’t make a scene.”
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