You never forget the moment you find the dress.
For me, it was love at first shimmer—ivory satin that moved like moonlight, lace sleeves soft as breath, and a row of tiny pearl buttons that made me feel like I’d stepped into a dream. I’d imagined that day since I was twelve. Now, at twenty-eight, it was finally here. Everything was perfect… until it wasn’t.
A week before the wedding, I walked into my room and found my future mother-in-law, Margaret, photographing my wedding dress. She jumped, forcing a smile.
“Oh, sweetheart! It’s just so beautiful. I wanted to remember it.”
It felt odd, but I let it go. Margaret had always been a little over-the-top—curious, dramatic, and way too involved. My fiancé Jake would just laugh and say, “She means well. Don’t overthink it.”
But as the big day approached, her questions grew unsettling.
“What shade of lipstick? Hair up or down? Pearls or diamonds?”
She even asked what perfume I’d wear.
I brushed it off—until the morning of the wedding. The church was glowing with candles and eucalyptus, music playing softly as I walked toward the altar. My heart was pounding for all the right reasons… until the doors opened.
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