Over the next few weeks, our evenings turned into a routine — spreading fabric swatches across the living room floor, sketching designs, juggling homework, and laughing at how over-the-top my ideas kept getting. Lily wanted simple elegance…. something that would make her feel confident without trying too hard.
We settled on a soft pink fabric that shimmered when it moved, with a fitted bodice and flowing skirt that would dance when she did. I ordered the fabric online, used my credit card, and tried not to think about the balance. Every night after my second job, I’d come home and sew. My fingers remembered the rhythm of the machine even after all these years.
Lily would sit with me sometimes, doing homework or just talking about her day. “I love watching you work,” she said one Thursday evening, looking up from her history textbook. “You get this look on your face, like everything else disappears.”
“That’s because it does!” I told her, adjusting the bodice seam. “When I’m making something for you, nothing else matters, dear.”
Three weeks in, the dress was finally finished. Lily tried it on for the first time on a Sunday afternoon, and I nearly cried. The fabric brought out the spark in her eyes, and the cut made her look like the young woman she was becoming instead of the little girl she used to be.
“Mom,” she whispered, turning in front of my bedroom mirror. “It’s… it’s beautiful. I feel like a princess.”
“You look like one too,” I said, and I meant every word.
Then Cassandra showed up unannounced. It was the night before prom, and I was putting the finishing touches on Lily’s dress when I heard heels clicking up our front walkway. Through the window, I saw Cassandra — perfectly styled hair, designer handbag, and a white garment bag draped over her arm like she was carrying the crown jewels.
I opened the door before she could knock, already feeling defensive. “Cassandra? What brings you here?”
She smiled, fidgeting with her pearl strings. “I have something for Lily. A little surprise!”
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