When my daughter Jane walked down the aisle, it wasn’t in the ivory gown we had spent months perfecting. Instead, she wore a dress as black as night. The color wasn’t the surprise—it was the reason behind it that left me speechless.
I’ll never forget the day Jane called me, her voice filled with excitement. “Mom! He proposed!” she nearly screamed through the phone.
I had seen it coming. Jack had been in her life for five years, and they seemed happy—at least, I thought they were. The wedding planning took over everything as soon as Jane shared the news. The first thing we focused on was the dress.
Jane had always wanted something unique—nothing off the rack. She wanted a custom-made gown, one that would be entirely hers. Luckily, my best friend Helen was an amazing seamstress. “We’re going to make her look like a queen,” Helen had said, sketching out the first designs.
For months, Helen poured her heart into it, stitching every detail with care. The dress was stunning—ivory satin with delicate lace and a long flowing train. It was everything Jane had ever imagined.
As the big day approached, everything seemed to be falling into place. I saw the dress one last time just a few days before the wedding, and it was perfect.
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