“Okay,” she whispered, “I have to admit… watching Mom get humbled was kind of amazing.”
I snorted softly. “It wasn’t my plan.”
“I know,” Claire said. “That’s why it was perfect.”
On the night before the wedding, my mother helped me into the dress for a final fitting at my parents’ house.
The silk slid over my skin like water. The beadwork caught the light gently, not shouting, just glowing.
My mother adjusted the neckline, her hands practiced and calm.
“You know,” she said softly, “in all my years wearing runway creations, I never felt as beautiful as I know you will tomorrow.”
I looked at her in the mirror. “Because it’s a Richie dress?”
My mother smiled. “No,” she said. “Because tomorrow, you’re wearing it for love. Not for appearance.”
I swallowed, throat tight.
Outside, my father was grilling vegetables, the smell of smoke and seasoning drifting through the open window. David was in the backyard helping him, laughing at something my dad said.
My life—simple, steady, real—was waiting for me on the other side of this wedding.
And for the first time, I didn’t feel like I was walking into a world that required me to change.
I felt like I was bringing my world with me.
Part 5
On the morning of the wedding, sunlight poured through my childhood bedroom curtains like it was trying to bless everything at once.
My bridesmaids—my cousin Emily, my best friend Rachel, and my fellow teacher friend Monique—buzzed around me in a mix of excitement and nerves. My mom moved through the room like a calm current, placing pins where they needed to go, smoothing fabric, steadying hands.
Elena Richie arrived with a small garment bag and the kind of confidence that made the room feel quieter.
“Okay,” she announced. “Let’s make a bride.”
My dress hung on the closet door like a secret weapon and a love letter all at once.
When it was time, my mother helped me step into it.
The silk settled. The beadwork kissed my collarbone. The train pooled behind me like a soft promise.
Rachel stared. “Sarah,” she breathed. “You look… unreal.”
Monique grinned. “Like a princess who could also run circle time.”
I laughed, the sound shaky and bright.
My mother adjusted my veil, then looked me in the eyes.
“You’re ready,” she said.
Not because the dress was expensive.
Because I was me.