When my daughter Chloé got engaged, we poured our hearts into planning the perfect day. The dress was the first thing on our list — a custom gown by my dear friend Laura, a brilliant seamstress. For months, she worked on a masterpiece: delicate lace, satin cream, and every detail just right.

Then, on the morning of the wedding, Laura arrived with a large white box. I opened it and froze.

The dress was black.

— “Laura, what is this?” I whispered. She only said, “Trust me. You’ll understand soon.”

At the ceremony, guests waited, music played, and Chloé entered — in that black gown. The room went silent.

She wasn’t there to say “I do.” She was there to say goodbye.

Chloé had discovered, just days before the wedding, that Thomas had been unfaithful. But instead of canceling, she chose to make a statement.

— “This dress,” she said, “represents the end — of who I thought he was, and what I believed love should be.”

Thomas pleaded. Guests whispered. But Chloé stood firm.

— “I deserve better,” she said, and walked out with her head held high.

I held her hand. I was heartbroken — and so proud.