When I was thirteen, my mother passed away.
It was sudden, cruel, and the most painful thing I had ever experienced.
But before she left, she gave me something priceless: her wedding dress.
_”To my beautiful daughter,
so that a part of me will always be with you on your special day.
—Mom”_
Then, my dad met Lisa.
Lisa entered our lives like a whirlwind—always smiling too much, inserting herself into every conversation as if she belonged. She made thoughtless remarks about how I needed “a strong female figure” and how “a girl can’t grow up properly without a mother’s touch.”
I knew no one could ever replace my mom, but I also knew she would have wanted us to be happy.
Lisa, however, didn’t just want to be my dad’s new wife. She wanted to erase my mother entirely.
Then came the engagement.
After only a year together, my dad proposed. It was his life, his choice.
But when Lisa started planning the wedding, I should have known she’d take things too far.
The Ultimate Betrayal
One night, I came home late and heard laughter coming from my dad’s bedroom. A voice that wasn’t his rang out—Greta, Lisa’s sister.
I approached the slightly open door and peeked inside.
Lisa was wearing my mom’s wedding dress.
— WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?! — I shouted, slamming the door open.
Lisa turned to me, completely unfazed.
— Oh, sweetheart, I didn’t think you’d be home so soon! — she said with her fake, sugary-sweet smile.
— TAKE. IT. OFF. NOW.
— That dress is mine! My mom left it for me! It’s not yours!
She sighed, still smiling.
— Honey, it’s just a dress. Besides, wouldn’t it be a beautiful way to honor your mother? Me wearing her dress to marry your dad? The symbolism is lovely, don’t you think?
I turned to my father, who had just walked in, briefcase in hand.
— Dad. Say something. This isn’t okay!
Lisa linked her arm through his, smiling up at him as if she already knew he wouldn’t fight her on this.
— Your dad thinks it’s a wonderful idea.
The Plan
That night, I could have screamed, cried, or drowned my emotions in junk food.
Instead, I sat in my dark room, laptop open, scrolling through articles with shaking fingers.
Then, I found something interesting.
Soaking fabric in water and letting it dry repeatedly weakens the fibers. Over time, delicate materials become brittle.
By sunrise, I had a plan.
When Lisa tried the dress on again, I smiled and nodded as she admired herself in the mirror.
— See? I knew you’d come around! So, the dress is in your hands?
I nodded.
She had no idea what was coming.
That afternoon, I visited a thrift store with Willow—my best friend since before my mother passed, more like a sister than a friend.
The place smelled like old fabric and dust, racks of dresses packed so tightly that lace and tulle tangled together.
I exhaled, gripping my list of requirements: “Long sleeves. Lace. Beading. Something that looks expensive but isn’t.”
Willow sighed.
— Come on — I muttered, moving toward another rack. — Let’s find Lisa something worthy of her.
That night, after everyone had gone to bed, I made the switch.
My mother’s dress remained safely locked in my room. In its place? The cheap thrift-store replica.
The fake dress was about to be soaked, dried, and weakened—again and again—over the next several nights.
Lisa had no clue. She thought I was being sweet. Dutiful.
The Wedding Day
The big day arrived.
Guests filled the venue. Lisa beamed as she slipped into the weakened dress, completely unaware.
The music started. She walked down the aisle.
And just as she reached my father—
Rip.
A collective gasp filled the room.
The fabric at her side split clean open.
I stepped forward, arms crossed.
— I guess that’s what happens when you wear something old…
Silence. My dad looked horrified. Guests whispered amongst themselves. Children giggled behind their hands.
Lisa’s picture-perfect moment was unraveling—literally.
The Aftermath
Lisa refused to speak to me after that.
My dad? Furious. But I told him the truth.
In the end, they still got married. Just not the way Lisa had envisioned. No grand ceremony. No stunning dress. Just a quiet courthouse wedding. I didn’t even attend.
And my mom’s dress?
It’s still mine.