Prom night wasn’t just a dance — it was a promise kept.
When I was little, my mom showed me her lavender prom dress and said, “One day, you can wear this.” After she passed away, that dress became one of the few pieces of her I had left.
Years later, as prom neared, I took it out — still faintly smelling of her perfume. Then my dad’s new partner, Stephanie, called it “an old rag.” The next day, I found it torn and stained.
Heartbroken, I called my grandmother. She simply said, “We’ll fix it.” Together, we cleaned, stitched, and brought it back to life. It wasn’t perfect — but it was beautiful.
When my dad saw me wearing it, tears filled his eyes. “You look just like your mother,” he said softly. And when Stephanie tried to speak, he stopped her. “Not tonight.”
That night, I didn’t just wear a dress — I wore love, memory, and strength. It still hangs in my closet today, a reminder that some things — and some promises — can never be destroyed.
